Solo pregnancy: what no one prepares you for

When I found out I was pregnant, I was terrified. Not just because of the pregnancy itself, but because the moment I told my daughter's dad, he left.

Just like that, I was alone.

I want to talk about solo pregnancy today — not the glossy, "you've got this mama" version you see on Instagram, but the real, raw, complicated version. The one where you're lying awake at 3am wondering how you're going to do this. The one where you're watching other couples at antenatal appointments and feeling a grief you can't quite name. The one where you smile and say "I'm fine" because it feels easier than explaining.

You're not just growing a baby. You're growing a whole new identity.

There's a word for what happens to a woman when she becomes a mother — matrescence. It's the profound psychological, emotional and identity shift of transitioning into motherhood. And it's huge even when you have a partner by your side.

When you're doing it alone? It can feel seismic.

Nobody really prepares you for the moment you realise that the person you thought would be doing this with you... isn't. Whether your partner left, your relationship ended, or you chose to do this solo — the experience of navigating pregnancy without a partner carries its own specific kind of grief, loneliness and fear that simply doesn't get talked about enough.

My story

When I was pregnant with my daughter, I did it alone. Her dad left when I found out I was pregnant, and so I navigated the whole journey — the sickness, the scans, the sleepless nights of worry — largely by myself. On the day I gave birth, it was my mum and my sister who were by my side.

And they were incredible. I am so grateful for them.

But I also won't pretend that it didn't hurt. That I didn't feel the absence of what I thought my daughter's arrival would look like. That grief is real, and it deserved to be acknowledged — not pushed down in the rush to just cope and keep going.

That experience is a big part of why I do the work I do today.

What solo pregnancy can feel like

If you're going through pregnancy alone right now, you might recognise some of these feelings:

A grief for the partnership or family unit you imagined. A pressure to hold it all together because there's no one else to share the load. Feeling invisible at appointments designed for couples. Guilt for feeling sad when you know you should feel grateful. Exhaustion — not just physical, but emotional. And underneath it all, a quiet fierce love for the baby you're already doing everything for.

None of this means you're not coping. It means you're human.

You are allowed to struggle and be strong at the same time

Solo pregnancy asks so much of you. It asks you to process enormous emotions while also growing an entire human being, often while working, perhaps while caring for other children, and usually while pretending to the outside world that you're absolutely fine.

You don't have to be absolutely fine.

Matrescence — that identity shift into motherhood — is hard enough with support. Without it, many women find themselves feeling lost, anxious, disconnected, or numb, and wondering why they aren't enjoying something they're "supposed" to be grateful for.

There is nothing wrong with you. This is what unsupported matrescence looks like. And you deserve more than just surviving it.

Support exists — and you deserve it

Therapy during pregnancy and early motherhood isn't a luxury or a last resort. It's a space that is entirely yours — where you don't have to hold it together, explain yourself, or be strong. Where someone sits with you in the complicated feelings rather than trying to fix them or rush you through them.

If you're navigating solo pregnancy and you're struggling, I want you to know that I see you. I've sat where you're sitting. And I built my practice specifically for moments like this.

You don't have to do this completely alone.

If this resonated with you, I'd love to hear from you. I offer a free 20 minute call where we can talk through where you're at and whether working together feels right. No pressure, no commitment — just a conversation.