Sad and Happy… at the Same Time… and It’s Still Okay

Today in therapy, I said something out loud that I hadn’t fully admitted to myself: I don't want to be sad anymore. Not right now anyway.

I’m approximately six weeks away from having a baby. It’s such an exciting time… maybe the most exciting time in my life. There’s so much anticipation, preparation, joy, and love already wrapped up into our little one. And when I focus on that, I feel lit up inside.

But there’s another feeling I’ve been trying to push away...

Grief.

It's almost been 3.5 years since Mom died. Over that time, I’ve been doing the hard, sacred work of grieving. I've been growing around my grief, feeling it soften, and learning how to carry it in healthier ways. I’ve honoured Mom's memory in therapy sessions, blog posts, and everyday moments. I’ve let myself miss her, cry for her, and ache for her.

But when it comes to having a baby... I’ve been trying not to go there. I don’t want to be sad right now. I don’t want this part of my life (the most joyful, miraculous part) to be tinged with grief. I want it to be all happiness... 100% joy. I want to protect this chapter from the weight of missing her.

But today in therapy, I realized: I can’t do that. Not fully. Not honestly. Because the truth is - this sucks. It’s unfair. She should be here.

Back when I first started therapy, more than 2.5 years ago, I began in a short-term, solution-focused setup. Because I sort of had to choose one central issue to focus on, I picked this: becoming a mom without my mom. It was the next big chapter I knew I'd want to enter one day, and it felt impossibly hard that she wouldn't be here for it.

Eventually, I transitioned into long-term therapy without restrictions, and we continued to talk about my fears and sadness around becoming a mom without Mom. But somewhere along the way, I stopped bringing it up and I stopped thinking about it. I think it's because I finally accepted that no matter how much I talk about it, it was still going to suck. No amount of processing was going to fix it. But now that it's really happening, I've realized I've pushed it so far down that I've barely acknowledged it, other than a few moments and blog posts here and there. And I need to.

Because Mom SHOULD be here. She should be helping Jeff and I paint the nursery and helping me make decisions about decor. She should be calming my nerves when I text her at midnight with a pregnancy worry. She should be laughing with me about all my silly questions I have because I know nothing about caring for an infant. She should be dreaming with me about what BabyGirl is going to look like, sound like, and be like. She should be planning her visits to meet her grandchild, and packing her overnight bag to stay over to help me. She should be here, full stop.

And I need to give this sadness more airspace. Not because it takes away from the joy, but because it makes more room for it to be real.

Even though I know that joy and sadness can exist at the same time, it's taken many reminders to believe it to be true, and to be able to apply this truth to this piece of my journey.

So here I am, reminding myself:

I can be deeply happy and deeply sad.

I can look forward to my baby's arrival with all my heart and feel heartbroken that my mom won't be here for it.

I can celebrate this chapter and mourn that it isn't the way I had envisioned.

I can smile and cry, in the same day, or even in the same hour. 

I can be excited about becoming a mom and devastated that mine isn't here to witness it.

I can hold space for love and longing at the same time.

I can be strong and soft at the same time.

I can honour both what I've lost and what I'm gaining. 

So today, I make space for both. I will let the grief in. I will let the tears fall without fear that they'll wash the joy away, and I'll remind myself that it's all still okay. 

Maybe you need that reminder too? 

P.S. My therapist shared this chart with me and we spent some time talking about it in my session today. We both really appreciate the Inside Out movies and the many concepts we can learn from them, and it feels perfectly suited to be the image attached to this blog post.