Nobody prepares you for the guilt and anxiety you have when you find yourself pregnant after a pregnancy loss. 

My first pregnancy was far from planned. Not unwanted, but definitely unplanned at the time. I had just come back from a nursing mission trip to Costa Rica, and couldn't shake the travel exhaustion. After a few too many days of a late period, I decided to ease my mind by taking a pregnancy test. To our utter shock, it was positive. Me, 23 years old, and expecting a marriage proposal in the very near future. Our shock and endless questions of "what do we do about..." ended very quickly, when we realized that there was no perfect time, and so the perfect time was now. 

 

We shifted every way of our thinking. We were no longer us, or just a couple, but we were parents. We had appointments, we did ultrasounds, we announced to family, we started making a baby registry, we were daydreaming about a nursery. At an appointment where we should have been "in the clear", we received devastating news. Everything was uprooted, again. We were never the same, but we couldn't unsee our future as parents. And so after some time of recovery and grief, we were ready to try again. 

 

Our initial ecstasy of the word "Pregnant" on the test was quickly replaced by a slew of mixed feelings. What if my body failed again? What if I did something wrong that caused my first loss and I did the same thing? How can I love this but still love my last pregnancy? How do I feel grateful but not like I'm replacing what I lost? And on, and on, and on. After my loss, I was constantly told "At least you know you can get pregnant," or "You're young, you can just try again,", but nobody prepared me for the guilt I felt about finding myself pregnant again. 

 

I spent my pregnancy walking on eggshells; afraid to announce to the world that we were growing, afraid to make another catastrophic mistake, afraid to trust my own body to do what it was designed to do. 9 months later, much to my disbelief, we delivered a healthy baby boy. It was a miracle. When he was born, I was so happy to have him outside of my body, where I could see him with my own eyes and know he was okay.

 

Now that I look back 4 years later, I realize that I suffered all along. I spent my entire pregnancy afraid. I never appreciated any of the work my body was doing, only criticized it for failing the first time around. Finding yourself pregnant after a loss is a very complicated time. The feelings of fear, anxiety, guilt, and then guilt for feeling those feelings, because "Hey, at least you're pregnant," are okay. I wish I could go back and tell myself that those feelings were okay to have. But that it was also okay to have positive feelings too. 

 

If you're navigating pregnancy after loss, give yourself permission to feel everything, both the hard emotions and the joy. It's normal to experience fear and uncertainty, but don’t deny yourself moments of happiness when they come. Celebrate every small milestone, because they are victories, even if they feel fragile. Know that you're not replacing the baby you lost; you're creating space for both the baby you carry now and the one who is no longer with you.

Here are some things that I feel would have helped me, and I hope they bring you a bit of peace:

1. Find a support system: Whether it’s friends, a therapist, or a group of women who have experienced pregnancy after loss, having a safe space to talk about your feelings without judgment is incredibly important.

2. Focus on the present: Take things one day at a time and celebrate the milestones, no matter how small.

3. Acknowledge your grief: It’s okay to grieve the loss while still being excited for this new life. Grief and joy can coexist, and both are valid.

4. Lean into self-compassion: Be kind to yourself. It’s normal to feel anxious, guilty, or scared, but remind yourself that your body is capable, and you deserve this new beginning.

5. Trust the journey: Even though it’s hard to let go of the fear, try to trust your body and this pregnancy. Every pregnancy is different, and you deserve to hold on to hope.

You are stronger than you think, and this baby is a new chapter, not a replacement, but a continuation of your journey as a mother. Trust your heart, trust your body, and know that you are not alone.