When Grief and Motherhood Collide

It is so hard to parent when you are deep in grief.

You love your children—but some days it’s hard to get out of bed, let alone dive into make-believe games or respond patiently to another snack request. Your world feels grey and heavy, while theirs still glimmers with colour and noise and movement. Even if they’re grieving too, their sorrow moves differently—like smoke in the air: visible, but fleeting. Yours might feel dense and unmoving, clinging to every corner of your day.

Your patience wears thin before the morning has even really begun. You want to be calm, fun, present—the kind of parent you imagined you'd be—but she feels so far away. That shiny, colourful version of you feels unreachable. And then the voice of your inner critic—your “mean mumma”—starts whispering:

You’re failing. You’re not doing enough. You’re messing this up.

But that couldn’t be further from the truth.

You are still showing up. You are still loving. You are grieving and parenting—and that is no small thing.

When we are grieving, our nervous systems are already running hot. Tender. Activated. It doesn’t take much to tip us over the edge, and then we’re left dealing not only with the grief, but also the guilt. And the loneliness. And the ache of not being the parent we wish we could be right now.

Joy may feel distant. Dull. Less frequent. But it is still there. Even the smallest glimmers count—a warm cup of tea, the smell of your child’s hair, the feeling of your feet in the grass. Try to seek those out, one breath at a time. One moment at a time.

And please—don’t feel like you have to hide all of this from your children.

You can let them see your tears. You can name (in child-safe language) that you’re feeling a bit sad, or a bit extra sensitive. Children are often more resilient and compassionate than we realise. When they understand what’s happening, it can actually rebuild their sense of safety. You’re helping them learn that emotions are allowed. That grief is a part of life. That even when things feel hard, love remains.

Sometimes, they’ll become clingier—sensing the shift in your energy. And I know… that can feel like the final straw. When you already feel like you have nothing left to give, and here they are asking for more.

You’re not a bad parent for wanting space. You’re not weak for needing time to yourself. You’re not broken.

You’re grieving. While parenting. And that is incredibly hard.

If this is you, I see you. I’m walking this road too.

And if you need help navigating the mess and the beauty of parenting through grief, you don’t have to do it alone. I'm here.

Note: My personal experience is in grieving while raising younger children, so that’s the lens I write from. Each season of parenting brings its own griefs and its own ways of coping, and this is just one story among many.