125: Christmas After Pregnancy Loss: How to Cope With Grief During the Holidays

If today feels heavy, I just want you to know: you’re not alone. Whether or not you celebrate Christmas, this time of year can feel especially hard when you’re grieving the loss of a baby. The quiet moments hit differently. And the weight you’re carrying, though invisible to others, is so, so real. In this post, I just want to sit with you in that space, and offer a few thoughts to help you feel seen and supported.

Why the Holidays Feel So Hard

There’s something about Christmas that makes it all feel heavier. You might find yourself thinking, “They would’ve been this old,” or “This would’ve been their first Christmas.” This season has a way of reminding us of what could have been, and that kind of grief can sneak up and take your breath away.

It feels like a milestone you didn’t ask for—a marker in time that shows you what you’re missing. And when you imagined what today might look like… this probably wasn’t it. Maybe you thought you’d be holding a baby in your arms. Instead, you’re holding onto memories and dreams that feel painfully unfinished.

Whether today is quiet or noisy, the silence where your baby should be can feel incredibly loud.

You Don’t Have to Fix Anything

Let me say this clearly: you don’t have to feel okay today.

This isn’t one of those “how to fix your grief” kind of messages. You don’t need to push it down or clean it up. You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to feel heartbroken. Shocked. Numb. Disbelieving that this is your life.

And even if you feel all those things at once—plus a little guilt for not being more “festive”—you’re still not doing anything wrong. The holidays can come with this weird pressure to be joyful and grateful, and when you’re not, it’s easy to feel like you’re somehow failing. But you’re not.

You’re just grieving. And it’s okay to not be okay.

You Can Hold Two Feelings at Once

You might have older kids, and there’s joy in that—watching them light up on Christmas morning, hearing their laughter. And at the same time, there’s this ache that something’s missing. Someone’s missing.

It’s confusing to feel both joy and sadness so deeply at the same time, but that doesn’t make it wrong. That’s just what love looks like after loss.

One minute you might be smiling, the next you’re crying. Or maybe both at once. That’s grief. It doesn’t show up in neat little stages—it moves in waves, and sometimes it just crashes out of nowhere.

So if that’s you today, be gentle with yourself. There’s no “right” way to grieve. There’s only your way.

However You Spend Today, It’s Okay

Maybe you're surrounded by family today. Maybe you needed to spend it alone. Maybe you're curled up on the couch with a blanket and a candle, just getting through the hours. However you’re spending today, I want you to know it’s valid.

You don’t have to do what anyone else expects. You don’t have to perform joy just because it’s December 25th.

If the feelings get too loud, try stepping outside for a few minutes. Change your scenery. Put your hand on your heart and ask yourself what you need in that moment. You might be surprised how much that little check-in helps.

Remembering Your Baby With Love

If it feels right, I want to invite you to remember your baby with me today.

Say their name out loud if you can—or just whisper it in your heart. Think back to those early days when you first found out you were pregnant. The dreams you had. The way your heart swelled at the thought of who they’d be.

That kind of love doesn’t just disappear. It lives in you. Always.

If you could give them a gift today, what would it be?

Maybe it’s a special ornament, or a letter you write to them. Maybe it’s doing something kind for someone else in their honor. Whatever it is, let it remind you: they mattered. They still do.

Grief Doesn’t Mean You Can’t Laugh

I want to tell you about a mom I spoke with recently. She laughed for the first time in months—really laughed—at her husband’s Christmas party. And then, in the middle of that moment, she panicked. She ended up in the bathroom, crying, overcome with guilt.

If you’ve felt that, please hear me: joy doesn’t cancel your grief. Laughing doesn’t mean you’ve forgotten. Smiling doesn’t mean you’re “moving on.” You can laugh and still miss your baby. You can have a good moment and still be grieving. You’re allowed to have both.

In fact, that’s something we talk about in my free workshop called Practical Ways to Release Guilt and Navigate Grief. I’m hosting another one on January 8th, and if you’re craving a space where you can feel understood and supported, I’d love for you to join us.

If You Need Support, I’m Here

If you’re having a hard time today and just need someone to talk to, I’m offering a few one-on-one SOS coaching sessions—just an hour to sit together and talk through what’s on your heart. You don’t need to have a plan. You just need to show up. I’ll put the link in the show notes if that feels right for you.

You’re Not Alone. Your Baby Is Remembered.

However today looks for you, please know that you’re not alone. I see you. I see the love you carry. And I want you to know your baby is remembered.

Their life mattered. They brought love into the world just by existing. And you—you’re doing an incredible job carrying that love forward.

So if today is hard, I hope you’ll give yourself a little extra kindness. And if today happens to feel okay, or even joyful—let that be okay, too. That’s not a betrayal. That’s a gift. Maybe even from your baby.

You’re surviving something no one should have to. And next year? It might be easier. Or it might just be different. But you’ll carry what you’re learning now into that new season with a heart that has expanded to hold both grief and hope.

And I’ll be here, cheering you on through it all.