That Pit in Your Stomach is Information
One of the most common things I hear from birth and postpartum doulas is
“I was dreading what I would do if I ever encountered pregnancy loss. I had this big pit of sadness and anxiety in my stomach.” Or something VERY similar.
It mattered so much to them, and it was obviously not a lack of compassion.
They had plenty of compassion.
They were incredible professionals who could feel the weight of what might happen one day.
That pit in your stomach is not always a warning that you are not meant for the work.
Sometimes it is information.
It is the part of you that knows love alone may not be enough in the room.
It is the part of you that knows you need more than “I'm so sorry.”
It is the part of you that knows grief support is not just about being sweet or soft or emotionally available.
It is also about knowing what to do.
How to offer options without pressure.
How to support the mother's body after loss.
How to talk about lactation when there is no baby to feed.
How to help the family ask for time with their baby.
How to support memory-making.
How to speak to siblings honestly and gently.
How to validate the partner's grief.
How to communicate with medical staff.
How to follow up when everyone else has gone quiet.
How to hold the family's pain without absorbing it all into your own body.
That is a lot to carry without tools.
No wonder so many professionals feel anxious when they think about pregnancy loss.
No wonder so many avoid the topic.
No wonder so many hope they will “just know what to do” when the time comes.
But hope is not a care plan.
And dread is not a strategy.
Here is what that same doula said after training:
“I feel like I am so much more full of strategies, knowledge, and passion for this work now.”
That is the transformation.
From dread to grounded.
From frozen to supported.
From “what if this happens?” to “I have a place to begin.”
That is what I want for more professionals.
Because the goal is not to completely remove the weight of this work.
This work will always be tender. It should be tender.
A baby died.
A family's world changed.
A mother's body is postpartum without the baby she expected to bring home.
A partner may be grieving silently.
Siblings may be confused.
Grandparents may be shattered.
The room should feel sacred and heavy.
But you should not have to walk into that room with only anxiety and good intentions.
You can have language.
You can have tools.
You can have a framework.
You can have support.
You can have a way to care for the family and yourself.
So here is your tool for today.
Do a “preparedness audit.”
Take five minutes and answer these questions honestly:
If a client's baby died, what are the first three sentences I would say?
What memory-making options would I know to offer?
What local resources would I share with the family?
How would I support the partner?
How would I support living children or siblings?
What would I do for postpartum support after loss?
Who would I debrief with afterward?
What follow-up dates would I remember?
Do not feel bad if you don't know the answers. This is the point to locate the gap.
Because once you can name what you do not know, you can start learning it.
And that pit in your stomach can become something else.
Not excitement exactly.
But steadiness.
Readiness.
A deeper trust in yourself.
That is what preparation gives you.
Want support as you navigate your reflections? Have ideas for how to improve supporting families through loss? We’d love to see you in our self-paced pregnancy loss education course, or connect with us directly here!
