Going Back to Work After Baby Loss

Returning to work after your baby has died is beyond painful.

We live in a world obsessed with productivity. Our Western culture is particularly inept at allowing the space grief needs to breathe. And in a cost-of-living crisis, not many of us can afford the luxury of doona therapy. So, no matter how many days or weeks have passed, it can feel as though we are expected to return to work long before we are ready.

There are many wonderful practical resources available to support bereaved parents returning to work. I leaned on some of these myself when the dreaded day eventually came. And they helped, to a degree.

Things like having a conversation with your manager about what you do and don’t want your colleagues to know. Exploring whether you can return part-time or work remotely. Perhaps you can negotiate extra breaks, opt out of particularly intense projects or team meetings, or identify safe people or places you can retreat to when things become too much.

But here, I want to shine a spotlight on the emotional side of this journey.

When Tommy died, I was already on maternity leave, but it was before Baby Priya’s Law came into effect in Australia. Because he didn’t take a breath, most of my workplace leave was rescinded. My brain was rapidly trying to reconcile our change of direction: the future I had imagined with the reality we were now living.

That included the year I had put aside in my mind to spend with our new baby.

Returning to work a few months later felt like the earth had been ripped from beneath my feet. It was salt in an already unbearable wound.

Lucky for me, I was working in an academic, remote role, with an understanding manager who allowed me to set my own pace. Of course, I was profoundly unlucky to be in this situation at all.

I spent most of my first few days of work dipping in and out of sobs, emails and dissociation. I burned a particular candle that represents Tommy. At times, I had his urn resting in my lap. At other times, I held the teddy we had chosen for him. I took extra breaks, avoided meetings, and stuck pictures of Tommy and my daughter on the walls.

Did any of this help soothe the sting?

Maybe a little.

But the sting was so sharp that it was hard to notice much of a difference.

It wasn’t lost on me that these were the days I was meant to be caring for my son. These were the moments when he should have been napping in my arms.

Sometimes there are no practical solutions to emotional problems. We can only ride them out.

When May and Dora later died, through miscarriage and ectopic pregnancy, my journey was different.

No one at work had known that I was pregnant yet. While that was a blessing on the one hand, it was painful on the other. I didn’t have to answer questions or navigate other people’s awkwardness around my loss. But I wasn’t offered the same compassion or flexibility either.

Looking back, perhaps I could have taken more time off, or been more open about these losses.

Perhaps I was scared of falling into the abyss again. Perhaps I unconsciously thought that if I acknowledged my loss, I would have to feel more of the pain.

Or perhaps I simply did what my grief needed me to do. Looking back, I can imagine other choices I might have made. But I don't think that means the choice I made was wrong.

For some people, returning to work can be a reprieve. It can feel helpful to step back into a familiar routine, to have somewhere to be, and to be forced to think about other parts of life for a while.

For others, returning to work can feel like the ultimate invalidation of the profoundness of their grief.

And for those who walk this path of loss more than once, the journey might lead them in different directions at different times.

There is no right or wrong.

Some people need to step away from work. Some need the structure of it. Some need to talk about their baby; others can't bear to say their name. Some days we might need one thing, and the next day something completely different.

So, what do I suggest?

Consider some of the practical advice, but don’t neglect your emotional journey.

Listen to your inner world and determine your own path and pace.

Expect that grief will probably come and find you.

We can prepare for the meetings. We can arrange the flexible hours. We can find a quiet room. But none of those things can guarantee that grief will stay contained.

She is a reminder of your precious baby, your enduring love, and your changed world. You can’t get rid of her, just as you can’t get rid of your love.

So, pull up a chair and let her sit beside you.

Acknowledge her when she demands to be heard. Hold her when she needs to be felt. And find ways to allow her to be.

She will sting your eyes and hold your hand.

And she will be your companion as you breathe through your hardest working days.

Tommy's Mum x