by rantywoman

There is no pregnancy, no child, and therefore no real grief. But when there is no single cathartic moment which allows one to whole-heartedly give in to that grief, no way to point directly to something and say “that, that is what I’ve lost”, then there is no means to assimilate grief. And when there is no publicly known event to create the expectation in others that we might be grieving, it becomes a private pain, and therefore somehow questionable, invalid: the grief can seem to be over nothing more than a cycle of trying and hoping and trying and hoping – and to grieve that seems faintly ridiculous.