
Motherhood is not a straight line. It never has been. And yet, we live in a world that loves tidy stories. Stories that begin with two pink lines, follow the bump-to-birth-to-baby path, and end with a happily ever after in the nursery.
But that is not everyone’s story.
Some of us have walked through infertility, miscarriage, TFMR, stillbirth, postpartum depression, relationship trauma, NICU stays, medical trauma, or all of the above. Some of us were afraid to become mothers because we were still healing from our own mothers. Some of us lost our babies. Some of us raised children in grief. Some of us parent through fear. Some of us are still deciding what motherhood means to us now.
This blog is for the women with complicated motherhood stories.
The ones who carry pain and joy.. The ones who feel unseen in the mommy world. The ones who know what it is to love fiercely through loss, disappointment, or trauma. This is for you.
Let’s name something out loud. Some of us had complicated relationships with motherhood before we ever got pregnant. Maybe you were raised by a parent who did not know how to love you without control or shame.
Maybe you grew up parenting your siblings or your own mother. Maybe you swore you would never be like her, and then panicked the first time you saw yourself in her.
Maybe your journey started with years of infertility. According to the CDC, around one in five women of childbearing age experience infertility. And with it comes grief, isolation, and a loss of trust in your body long before there is ever a baby to hold.
Maybe you’ve experienced trauma, sexual abuse, intimate partner violence, or childhood neglect, and becoming pregnant felt terrifying. Research from the Journal of Women’s Health shows that trauma survivors are more likely to experience anxiety, PTSD, and depression during pregnancy and postpartum.
And maybe, you felt deep excitement and joy about becoming a mom, only to have that joy shaken by worry, fear, or pressure to do it all perfectly.
Motherhood was never simple. It just became more complicated when loss entered the picture.
No matter how we arrived at motherhood, losing a baby blows the whole thing wide open.
Stillbirth, miscarriage, TFMR, and neonatal loss are not just medical events. They are soul-quaking ruptures. They shake our identity, our trust, our dreams.
After my daughter Evelyn was stillborn at 40 weeks and 5 days, I was not just grieving her. I was grieving who I thought I would be. I was grieving the family I had pictured. I was grieving the kind of mom I was becoming. And I was grieving the idea that anything in life was safe or guaranteed.
Baby loss often magnifies what was already complicated.
If your mental health was fragile before, it may crumble under the weight of grief. If your relationship had cracks, they may turn into canyons. If your faith was shaky, it may fall apart entirely.
And in all of that, you are expected to keep functioning. To be okay for your other children. To return to work. To go to follow-up appointments where people ask, “How is the baby?”
Let me say this clearly: you do not have to be okay. Not now. Not quickly. Not ever in the way people expect you to be.
Grief does not follow a schedule. Healing is not a finish line.
There are often invisible layers of grief in our motherhood journeys. We do not talk enough about the silent griefs that come with complicated motherhood:
All of this is real. And all of it deserves space.
You are not too much. You are not broken. You are not alone.
For many of us, motherhood does not end when our baby dies. We are still mothers. And sometimes, we become mothers again, to new babies, to ourselves, or to new versions of who we are.
Pregnancy after loss is one of the most emotionally complex experiences you can have. Research in the British Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology found that women pregnant after a stillbirth have elevated levels of anxiety, often requiring additional support, monitoring, and trauma-informed care.
But it is not just about the next pregnancy.
I want you to know that your story is still valid, even if it does not fit the mold.
Even if your birth was traumatic.
Even if you never got to bring your baby home.
Even if your relationship with your body has never been good.
Even if you are still angry. Or sad. Or numb. Or all three.
Even if you feel like a stranger in motherhood now.
Even if you do not know who you are anymore.
You are still a mother. And your motherhood matters.
Motherhood is not defined by live babies or clean timelines. It is not defined by baby books or breastfeeding. It is not defined by how well you are holding it together.
It is defined by love.
By showing up again and again for your children, living and gone. By showing up for yourself, even when you feel like you have nothing left to give. By allowing your story to unfold in its full complexity, without trying to edit out the hard parts.
If you are navigating complicated motherhood, here are some things that have helped me and the women I support:
Loss-informed therapy, support groups, and coaching can help you process what has happened and begin to reimagine what motherhood looks like now.
Journaling, art, music, and storytelling are powerful ways to honor your journey. There is science behind this; expressive writing has been shown to lower anxiety, regulate emotion, and support trauma recovery.
Walking, yoga, dancing, or even lying on the floor with your hand on your heart, these are not small things. They bring you back to your body, to your breath, to this moment.
You do not have to be okay in three months. Or a year. Or ever in the way you were before. Progress is not linear. And you are not behind.
This may be other loss moms, trauma survivors, or mothers who just get what it is like to have a layered, non-linear story. Find safe spaces where you can be fully you.
Complicated motherhood is still motherhood.
Grieving mothers are still mothers.
Mothers who question everything are still mothers.
Mothers who are healing and breaking, and rebuilding at the same time, are still mothers.
There is no one way to do this. No single path forward. But wherever you are, I want you to know, you are not alone. You are not too complicated. You are not too messy. You are not too much.
You are exactly the kind of mother your story needs.
And I am so proud of you for being here. Still standing. Still loving. Still mothering.
With love,
Vallen
I’m Vallen Webb. I’m a mom to five, a bereavement and postpartum doula, a podcast host, a grief advocate, and the founder of Evelyn James & Company. But more than that, I’m just a mom who had to learn how to live again after her baby died.
And if you’re walking that path too, I see you. I love you. And I’m here.
Find more resources created by Vallen at Evelyn James & Company.
Supporting Dads and Partners After Baby Loss: How to Grieve, Lead, and Heal Together
Pregnant After Loss: Holding Fear, Hope, and Everything In Between
When Their Sibling Dies: How to Support Children After Pregnancy or Infant Loss
Community, Culture, and Compassion: Healing Together After Baby Loss
Complicated Motherhood: Navigating the Before and After of Baby Loss
Empty Cradle, Broken Heart by Deborah L. Lewis
An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination by Elizabeth McCracken
The Worst Girl Gang Ever by Bex Gunn & Laura Buckingham
The Baby Loss Guide by Zoe Clark-Coates
Whole: Navigating the Trauma of Pregnancy Loss by Heather Dolson
Pregnancy Loss Affirmation Coloring Book
Pregnancy and Baby Loss Guided Journal
Now I Lay Me Down to Sleep Remembrance Photography
Share Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support Groups
Postpartum Support International (Hotline, Provider Directory & Resources)
Evelyn James & Co Support Guides
Evelyn James Grief Marketplace
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