The Quiet Grief of Letting Go

There is a particular kind of sadness that arrives not when something goes wrong, but when something meaningful changes.

The other morning, I was eating breakfast when I looked down at my stomach.

Flat again.

And I cried.

The tears didn’t feel dramatic. They simply arrived, uninvited but real. We often dismiss moments like this as trivial, but emotion rarely points to nothing. When something moves you, it is usually signaling meaning.

I cried because I missed being pregnant.

For months, my child was with me constantly. Every place I went, he went. There was no separation, no distance, no moment of being alone.

And then that season ended.

I looked across the room and saw him lying in his bassinet, outside of me. Safe. Loved. Alive in a way that was now separate from my body. In that moment, it became clear that I would never be with him every minute of every day again. I  came to grips that apart from me literally he’s begun to live his own life. 

That chapter had closed.

No one prepares you for that realization. Pregnancy creates a bond that exists nowhere else. It is intimate, unseen, and sacred. And it ends the moment birth begins.

It is a beautiful ending. And it is still an ending.

Yes, hormones shift after birth, but this isn’t only chemistry. It is reality settling in. A role has changed. A form of closeness has transformed.

You can love the present while mourning what has passed. Gratitude and grief are not opposites. They arrive together.

If you’ve ever felt overwhelmed watching your child grow, there is nothing wrong with you. Feeling deeply is not a flaw. It is evidence of love.

Peace doesn’t come from pushing the emotion away. It comes from allowing it. Of course this hurts. Of course this matters.

These tears don’t mean something is wrong. They mean something mattered.

The tears were never petty.

They were love noticing time move.

And perhaps the better question is not why you are crying, but what your tears are quietly asking you to cherish today? 

Cherish the day.