My Life Is Exactly What I Wanted, So Why Am I Grieving What Came Before?

When we’re young, we often have a “life plan”. I’ll get married at 25. I’ll have a baby at 30. I’ll land my dream job somewhere in between. Once we reach adulthood, these goal posts usually shift, or even become irrelevant – maybe we don’t want to get married anymore, or life throws us curveballs that remove some of these goals entirely. 

Still, there are always life milestones we achieve, ones that propel us into a new stage. Often, we really wanted to achieve these milestones. Sometimes, they come after years of pining, searching and plenty of heartache. This was definitely my experience. After two years of infertility struggles and wanting so badly to start a family, I finally fell pregnant via IVF. My growing baby is healthy, and I am in a stable relationship with someone I adore. So why do I feel so sad?

It started in my third trimester. Suddenly, I was waking up with a feeling of dread. I wanted this baby, but I already had strong nostalgia for the life before this baby. I realised my partner and I would never be “just us” again. We would always be a family; this child would always be part of our unit. Even if we went on mini breaks without our child sometimes, they would be front of mind.

My independence was gone. I knew that mothers often found their way back to a form of identity outside of motherhood, but my ability to just travel on a whim, party for however long I felt like and do, well, anything I damn well wanted? That was all over.  Life would never be the same again. Suddenly, having a baby felt claustrophobic. 

And yet, I was still excited, somewhere underneath this anxiety. It wasn’t that I exclusively dreaded this baby’s arrival. I just wasn’t exclusively overjoyed about it. I felt like I was losing something significant, even though I was gaining a life I had always wanted. This, it turns out, isn’t that surprising.

“Even the most joyful life transitions — moving out of home, falling in love, becoming a parent — can stir up a deep sense of loss,” explains psychologist Emma Peterson. “When we intentionally choose growth, we are also choosing change — and even when that change is welcome, it naturally stirs up grief for what we are leaving behind.”

I’d felt this sense of loss before. In my early teen years, I was desperate to get my period and “catch up” to friends who had already entered adolescence. When that first stain on my underwear appeared, though, my heart sank. Suddenly, this representation of growing up – something I had craved and emulated by experimenting with makeup and shopping at adult stores like Sportsgirl – had now arrived in full force. I wasn’t a child anymore, and never would be again. I’d been itching to escape my days of climbing trees and playing tag, but now that season was ending, I wanted to grip onto it with all my strength.

It also reared its head when I moved in with my partner. After a decade of being single, give or take a few short-term relationships that fizzled fast, I should have been tired of the solo life. I was, to a degree. I’d never lived with a partner before. I was thrilled at the direction my life was going. But as we signed a lease and negotiated which furniture to keep, that sense of doom appeared. This time, it was the realisation that I wouldn’t have any more anonymous party hook-ups, or swoon over a first date (even when they ended up being terrible by the third). I was tied to this person forever, if things worked out the way I hoped. I wanted that, but I also mourned the end of my single years.

Peterson calls this ‘grief of identity’. “We're not just grieving lost time or old routines — we are mourning versions of ourselves,” she explains. The growth process of stepping into a new stage of life doesn’t just involve change from a practical standpoint; it also shifts who we are as people. “Different sides of ourselves, ones we were deeply attached to, begin to step into the background.”

Our identity has to shift in accordance with where our life takes us. The sense of loss is understandable and expected when this shift comes due to a curveball. When we’re suddenly dumped, lose a loved one, or experience a health crisis, we anticipate the grief. We didn’t ask for this life shift, so it feels natural to grieve the loss of what came before. But it’s equally as natural for us to feel grief when we’re moving forward intentionally. You can want your future and still be sad about what you have to leave behind.

Peterson says life shifts don’t have to mean a complete loss of your identity as you knew it. “These parts of us aren’t gone forever; they are simply evolving,” she explains. “They take on new shapes and new rhythms. The adventurous side becomes the planner of family trips. The independent side finds expression in carving out small pockets of time just for you.”

Look at it this way – you’re not losing these aspects of your identity, they’re just growing into something different. “Growth doesn’t erase who you were — it gathers all your different parts and invites them into something bigger,” says Peterson.

She says that making space for feelings of sadness and loss, rather than feeling guilty about them, is key to transitioning well. “Grief and joy often walk side by side, especially during major life changes,” she explains. Speak to loved ones about your emotions and honour the chapter you’re leaving through self-reflection. Acts like journaling or creating a playlist of songs from that season can also help with the transition. Acknowledging these uncomfortable feelings, instead of pushing them down, can also be helpful. She also says that there is a difference between the natural discomfort of transition and more serious mental health issues. “If you notice that sadness is deepening into hopelessness, or that anxiety is making it hard to enjoy what's ahead, reach out for support,” she says.

As my pregnancy journey reaches its final stages, I’m starting to embrace the complexity of my emotions. It’s okay that I have moments where I miss my old life so much, I begin to dread motherhood. It’s tough to embrace a life stage I haven’t yet completely entered, to understand the full spectrum of that experience before it’s even entirely upon me. 

Something I like to remind myself of is this. Moving forward can be painful, and there are plenty of life stages I miss from time to time. But change is inevitable, and looking back, eventually there is joy, new thrills and growth. Without those, what would life really be?