When Fear Walks Alongside the Journey to Pregnancy

In psychology, we often talk about grief. We talk about the loss of loved ones, about breakups, about relationships that end.

What we talk about much less are other kinds of grief: identity loss, the loss of a pet, or perinatal grief.

Not long ago, during a session with a patient who had experienced an early pregnancy loss, I was struck by how much pressure she was putting on herself—and how much pressure her partner was also placing on her—to “stay positive.”“It happened very early,” they said. “We shouldn’t complain. This happens much later to other people.”

In that moment, it felt essential to validate her pain. To make space for her need to express it, to share it—whether through complaint, sadness, anger, or simply naming what hurt.

I also noticed something else. When I told her that she absolutely had the right to feel sad, to complain, to grieve—while also acknowledging that there are later pregnancy losses that can be devastating, and even more painful experiences such as losing a child to illness or accident—I emphasized that pain is not a competition. There is no ranking system for suffering.

What surprised me wasn’t what I said, but her reaction. She visibly relaxed.“It makes sense,” she said. “I don’t know why I’d never thought of it that way before.”

Perhaps she hadn’t thought of it because these losses are rarely shared. And when something isn’t shared, it often isn’t normalized.

This is just one example of what we see in therapy almost every month. Different women, different stories, different levels of support—but strikingly similar emotional patterns.

There are two key elements worth reflecting on here: normalization and companionship.

Whether we’re talking about pregnancy loss, long and difficult fertility journeys, or the fear and vulnerability that can arise during the forty weeks of pregnancy, speaking openly about these experiences gives voice to realities that have long remained quiet.

The problem is that when we silence discomfort, we also silence the emotions that come with it—treating them as inappropriate, exaggerated, or unjustified.

Research in cognitive and clinical psychology has shown us time and again that trying to suppress emotions and thoughts may offer short-term relief, but often leads to greater emotional distress in the long term, sometimes even to clinical symptoms. This is why it’s so important to name and validate emotions such as grief, sadness, frustration, fear, and vulnerability—so they don’t quietly turn into guilt, hopelessness, or shame.

I’ve shared a patient’s story, but I’d like to share a personal one to speak about the second element: being accompanied.

When I was around 22 weeks pregnant, after a day of mild abdominal discomfort, I suddenly began experiencing intense, sharp pain—stronger than anything I had ever felt, including the most painful menstrual cramps. Afraid it might be contractions or a sign that something was wrong, I went to the emergency department.

As I entered the hallway of the gynecological emergency unit, waiting for tests, the first thing I noticed was a familiar face. A friend was sitting across from me, wearing a hospital gown, looking straight ahead.

There we were, both waiting, each with our own physical and emotional pain. We didn’t speak. We didn’t ask questions. We simply held hands, both with tears in our eyes.

Thankfully, my pain turned out to be benign, and the pregnancy continued without complications. But I have never forgotten how that familiar face and that silent gesture—holding hands without words—became a balm for fear and a bridge of connection.

It makes me wonder how many women face fear during fertility journeys, pregnancy, or loss alone—if not physically, then emotionally.

Perinatal psychology helps regulate emotions and gently challenge unhelpful cognitive patterns. But above all, it seeks to normalize experiences and offer companionship.

If you are in a process of trying to conceive, waiting, or grieving a loss, remember this: these are not emotions you are meant to carry on your own. Asking for support is not only valid—it can be deeply meaningful as you continue forward, in whatever direction feels right for you.