Loss Beyond Loved Ones

'Loss takes many forms,' a lesson I learnt. Read the Grief Story, 'The Hidden Grief of Postpartum Depression: Navigating lost expectations’ by Michelle Habrych about a loss that often goes unseen...

Welcome to the Grief Stories community! I hope you’ll find this to be a welcoming place where you’ll be able to share experiences, get things off your chest, support one another, ask questions, and chat to people who truly ‘get it’. I invite you to read and share stories of hope and healing; giving a voice to loss and grief. This is a safe place helping us to feel less alone on our journey and providing comfort in hard times.

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There are countless types of loss, and some may feel heavier than others. But grief is never a competition, and our losses should never be compared. While every loss is unique, grief is a universal experience. When we're in the midst of that turmoil, it all hurts, and the only way to heal is to walk through the pain.

Today, I want to acknowledge a type of loss that often goes unnoticed—yet is far from uncommon—and deserves more attention. Unacknowledged losses can be some of the most difficult to carry. These are the losses that often go unnoticed by others, the ones we may even feel pressured to push aside ourselves. This hidden grief or sorrow, called disenfranchised grief, is the kind of grief that goes unrecognised or unacknowledged by society.

Whether it’s the loss of an expectation, identity, a dream, or a sense of safety, these losses don’t always fit into the neat boxes of what others expect us to grieve. Because it’s often minimized or misunderstood, it can be especially difficult to navigate and heal from. This grief, though invisible to many, is just as real and painful as any other, and it deserves the space to be seen and felt. My heart is with all who experience this hidden grief, just like Michelle. Today, I’m honoured to share her grief story.

In today’s Grief Stories, Michelle Habrych courageously shares her journey of processing the profound losses tied to her pregnancy and the birth of her daughter, Anastasia. This deeply personal experience became the foundation for her book You Are Not Alone: My Experience with Postpartum Depression. Through her memoir, Michelle offers a lifeline to women facing the challenges of postpartum depression, sharing the kind of support and understanding she longed for during her darkest days.

I’m deeply grateful to Michelle for sharing her story with such honesty and vulnerability. Her words are a testament to resilience, providing comfort and hope to those who need it most. Please let us know what you found meaningful in the comments.

‘The Hidden Grief of Postpartum Depression: Navigating Lost Expectations’ by Michelle Habrych

Grief Stories #009

Grief is a natural reaction to a deep loss, a loss of any kind. Typically, grief is associated with death. In my story, it accompanied a birth.

My son was born in early June 2001, happy and healthy. My husband and I were in love with this cute little boy who completed our family. I took him everywhere, enjoying my new life as a mother. I also started to get healthy and lose weight for the first time in my life.

Just before his first birthday, I discovered I was pregnant again. While we had not been doing anything to prevent such a possibility, we had hoped for a little more of an age gap between the two. Also, since I had been losing weight, I was discouraged that I would suddenly gain it all back as a result of the pregnancy. Though disappointed about the potential loss of my health success, my husband and I were pleased to welcome another child into our happy little family.

My first pregnancy had been complicated as a result of my pre-existing high blood pressure. The weight loss had helped somewhat, but I was still considered high risk. With this second pregnancy, my gynecologist ordered me to come in for weekly non-stress tests in the later months of my pregnancy to check the baby's well-being. He told me to be on bed rest as much as I could, knowing how impractical that would be with a toddler at home. Instead of enjoying our outings, we spent a lot of time in our living room, lying in front of a video on the television or something similar. Gone were the fun adventures we had been enjoying together; the playgroups and park dates ceased. This loss of freedom became another thing to lament.

The weather began to turn cold as fall turned into winter in Chicagoland where we lived, so staying home was not the worst thing for us. A mom friend watched my son for me so I could attend the weekly appointments on my own. Then, unexpectedly, at one early January appointment in 2003, my doctor turned to me and asked if I wanted to have a baby that evening. I was ready to be done with the pregnancy for sure, but I worried about my little boy who was still at my friend's house. His grandmother was able to pick him up and take care of him while my husband met me at the hospital.

This birth would be the second time I was induced due to my high blood pressure. Again, my doctor wanted to monitor the entire event so I was unable to experience what it was like to go into labor on my own. That loss was the first of many I would grieve in relation to my daughter's birth. Unlike all of the other moms I knew, I would not have an entertaining story to share about feeling contractions and speeding to the hospital or water breaking at an inconvenient location and going into labor. My story would be different: "They hooked me up to the pitocin and then hours and hours later, I gave birth."

While this loss was frustrating, I still looked forward to meeting my daughter. The fact that I had not had a chance to inform my toddler that I would not be home as planned heaped guilt upon me. However, I reasoned that he was still young enough so he would not remember. He had always had a cheerful disposition and never really experienced separation anxiety, willingly going with whoever would help watch him. As I waited for the medication to bring on the contractions, I thought about introducing them to each other and what fun we would all have together.

Then as morning dawned, my contractions grew stronger and more painful. I requested the epidural to numb my lower half for the delivery. There was some delay in having the medication administered. As they gave me the shot, I continued to contract so much that suddenly I was at 10 centimeters, fully ready for delivery. My doctor said to push. I felt every painful moment of that delivery. About half an hour after her delivery, I finally felt the epidural take effect, too late to be of any assistance. This numbness foreshadowed the incredible emotional difference between my postpartum experiences.

As soon as possible, I convinced the doctor that we were fine and to let us go home to our son. We were released the day after her birth. Later that week my newborn was discovered to be jaundiced. Then I began having horrible abdominal pain. It turned out that there was an infection in my uterus and I was admitted to the hospital without my newborn. I began to grieve another loss as I was alone in a hospital, unable to cuddle and nurse my daughter, our bonding was disrupted. When I returned home, it was to a fussy newborn, an exhausted husband, and a needy toddler. Without realizing it, I slowly began to mentally distance myself from them. It would be a couple of months before I was diagnosed with postpartum depression, and even longer until I was able to get the help I needed to work through it.

Through my journal and in counseling, I saw all of the losses I had experienced and needed to grieve. Until I acknowledged them, I would not be able to work through the feelings of anger, depression, inadequacy, sadness, and isolation I had suffered. I loved my daughter, yet her birth was the opposite of what I had expected. I was unprepared for such a departure from the blissful birth and following months I enjoyed with my son. Much of what I went through during that time was lost to my memory as a result of the extreme emotional stress I felt. I had to grieve the loss of those months with my newborn and toddler. I am grateful that the traumatic time eventually came to an end while still saddened that I can never get it back or even fully remember it.

Postpartum depression and other maternal mental health mood disorders affect 1 in 5 women. I was completely blindsided by my experience, partly because it was not openly discussed as it is today. Yet, there is still much to do to raise awareness of what can affect a mom during the months leading up to the birth of her child and after. I have written my memoir You are Not Alone: My Experience with Postpartum Depression to help those who are going through their own unexpected challenges. Additionally, I speak to groups to raise awareness and encourage women to seek help. There are moments I still grieve the losses related to my second pregnancy, yet I have found a way to turn them into something good by helping others.

Grief Story by Michelle Habrych

Friend, have you ever grieved an invisible loss? What does it look like for you and what is helping you to navigate it? Share in the comments.

Illinois native Michelle Habrych lives with her college-age children, Jesse and Anastasia, and her husband, Brent, of 28 years. Her first book, You are Not Alone: My Experience with Postpartum Depression, is a memoir and self-help book. She is a hope*writer and speaks to groups around Chicagoland to raise awareness about postpartum depression.

When she is not writing, she enjoys reading, discussing books, and playing board games, as well as cheering for the Chicago Bears and dancing at local concerts.

You can find more about Michelle and her work on her website michellehabrych.com or you can connect with her on Facebook or Instagram.