Why I’ve Decided to Give Birth Alone

There is a certain kind of loneliness that comes with loving a man whose career is bigger than both of you.

It’s not the kind of loneliness that makes you resent him — no, that would be too easy.

It’s the kind that makes you recalibrate, adjust, and ultimately accept that while you are deeply loved, you are also deeply alone in certain moments of your life.

And this, I suppose, is one of them.

Despite the difficult conversations, the emotional unpacking, and the well-intentioned (but often painfully insensitive) comments from my husband, I have decided that when our baby girl arrives, I will labor alone.

I know.

It’s unconventional.

It’s the kind of choice that makes people raise their eyebrows, tilt their heads, and say, But if you have a husband, why wouldn’t you want him there? But if I’m being honest, having him in that room would make me more self-conscious than comforted. And when I am bringing a life into this world, the last thing I need to feel is the weight of my own insecurities.

I have spent the majority of this pregnancy alone.

Not in a dramatic, woe is me kind of way, but in the quiet, inevitable reality of being married to a man whose job is relentless, whose exhaustion is permanent, and whose absence is not a reflection of love but of duty. The truth is, my husband is barely around long enough to see me change, let alone process those changes himself. Sometimes, he forgets I’m even pregnant.

And yes, I know how ridiculous that sounds.

A neurosurgeon in training forgetting his own wife is carrying his child. But when you only see each other for 24-hour increments every two weeks, reality becomes something you visit, not something you live in.

There is a part of me that wishes I didn’t feel this way. That I could be the kind of woman who leans into her husband’s presence, no matter how sporadic, and finds comfort in whatever crumbs of support he can give.

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But that is not our dynamic.

That has never been our dynamic.

I have had to become fiercely independent in this relationship, not because I wanted to, but because I had no choice. And while some might find that heartbreaking, I have simply come to accept it.

So, I will labor alone.

Not because I don’t love my husband. Not because I am angry. But because this, in many ways, is simply an extension of what has already been. I have done this pregnancy alone. I have carried the weight — physically, emotionally, mentally — alone. And while I know my husband would be there if I asked, I also know that his presence would not erase the months of solitude that came before it.

I don’t plan on sharing this decision with family.

Our birth plan is private, and quite frankly, I don’t need the added weight of justifying my choices to people who will never fully understand them. I only hope that my husband, the man I love and admire beyond words, can understand. That he can see this for what it is — not a rejection of him, but an acceptance of myself.

I don’t know what my readers will make of this. Maybe some will find it unfathomable. Maybe others will see themselves in these words. Either way, I suppose I just needed to say it out loud. To admit that while I am not resentful, I am still lonely. And while I do not seek pity, I do seek to be understood.

So here I am.

A woman who loves her husband but has learned to exist without him. A woman who does not need her partner, but wants him — when he is able to be here. A woman who is about to give birth and has decided that the best way to do so… is alone.

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Hi, I’m Fiona, a writer going through an unexpected chapter in life.

I lost my job in April 2024, and my husband and I have been getting by on his small medical residency income. After stepping away from IVF, we were surprised and overjoyed to find ourselves pregnant, but it’s added financial stress as we prepare for this new journey.

Writing is my way of contributing to our family while covering essentials like groceries, bills and maybe items for our 🌈 miracle baby.

If you’d like to support us, your kindness would mean the world — every little bit helps. $1, $2…Anything is appreciated. Donate here (Venmo).

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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