Getting Through Baby Showers When It Hurts

If baby showers, kid birthday parties, and family gatherings have started to ache, you're not being dramatic — you're grieving something real. The most protective thing you can do is make a plan before you go, decide with intention whether to attend at all, and give yourself permission to say no.

Summer in Chicago is one long invitation. Weddings, backyard barbecues, a friend's shower in Bucktown. And if you're navigating infertility, a pregnancy loss, or a hard postpartum stretch, all that togetherness can feel less like a break and more like a minefield.

I want you to know: what you're feeling has a name, a plan, and — I promise you — company.

Why these gatherings can hit so hard

Here's what I'm seeing in my office lately. In my own words:

This summer I'm seeing more distress around social functions — especially when there are babies or kids in the room. It's not that my clients don't love the people throwing these parties. It's that a shower or a birthday puts the exact thing they're grieving right in the center of the table, with cake.

Part of why it lands so hard is that this kind of grief is often invisible. There's no card, no casserole, no bereavement day for the pregnancy you haven't had yet, the one you lost, or the version of new motherhood you pictured that didn't arrive. RESOLVE: The National Infertility Association describes exactly these moments — pregnancy announcements, baby showers, the endless "So, when are you two going to have kids?" — as some of the most predictable triggers there are (RESOLVE).

And you are not an outlier for struggling. Research summarized by the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists finds that roughly 30–40% of people going through infertility treatment experience depression and anxiety (ACOG, 2025). That's not weakness. That's a normal nervous system responding to real loss.

First, decide whether to go at all

This is the part people skip, so I say it first, out loud, in session:

A lot of the work is helping clients explore whether they even need to attend every function. We talk about giving yourself permission to say no — and how that isn't selfish or fragile. Sometimes it's the single most protective thing you can do for your mental health that week.

You are allowed to decline. RESOLVE puts it plainly: you're allowed to set boundaries, and a kind, honest "no" is a complete sentence (RESOLVE). If it helps to give the host something, you might borrow language like: "That kind of day is really tender for me right now. I love you, and I'm going to sit this one out — but I'd love to drop off a gift and take you to lunch, just us, another time."

Notice what that does. It protects you and honors the relationship. You don't owe anyone your grief as a party favor.

If you're going, build a plan

When a client decides they do want to be there — for their sister, their best friend, themselves — we don't just white-knuckle it. We make a plan. Here's the structure I use with clients, built around before, during, and after.

Before

Line up your supports ahead of time, not in the moment you're already underwater. That might be a short walk before you go, a grounding practice in the car, a text thread with a friend who knows what today costs you. Decide in advance how long you'll stay — "I'll come for the toast and leave by three" — so the exit is already yours.

Give your partner a job

You should not have to manage the room and your own heart at the same time.

I always ask: what's your partner's role here? Not vaguely "be supportive," but an actual job. A signal that means get me out of this conversation. A plan to leave together when you tap out. Someone whose whole assignment for the afternoon is you.

If you're parenting solo or arriving without a partner, this role can go to a sibling, a friend, or a well-briefed cousin. The point is that one person in the room is on your team on purpose.

Prepared responses

The questions that land hardest are usually the same handful, and you can take their power back by deciding your answer before you're cornered by the veggie tray. A few you're welcome to borrow:

• "We'll see what life has in store — thanks for thinking of us."
• "That's a tender topic for me, so I'm going to change the subject — how's your summer been?"
• "I'm focusing on other things right now, and I'm good with that."

You don't owe anyone your medical history! A prepared line lets you stay warm without going into a story you didn't choose to tell.

After

Plan the landing, too. What I tell clients: the drive home is part of the event. Have something gentle waiting — a real dinner, your partner debriefing with you, a bath, an early bedtime, permission to rest. A hard afternoon you recover from on purpose is very different from one you white-knuckle and then crash from alone.

You can hold two true things at once

If there's one sentence I'd tape to your mirror before a shower, it's this: you can be genuinely happy for your friend AND be quietly heartbroken for yourself — at the same time, in the same body. Both are true. Neither cancels the other.

That's the opposite of "just be grateful" or "at least you can try again." Toxic positivity asks you to delete half of what's real. You don't have to. The both/and is not a problem to fix; it's just what love and loss look like standing next to each other.

When it's more than a hard day

A rough afternoon at a shower is one thing. But reach out for support if you notice the harder signs settling in — dread that swallows the whole week before an event, sleep that won't come, anxiety that won't switch off, numbness, or the sense that avoiding people is quietly shrinking your life.

As a Licensed Clinical Professional Counselor (LCPC) and an EMDR-trained therapist, I help women in Chicago work through exactly these knots — the grief of infertility, the aftermath of loss, and the perinatal season when everything feels like too much. Sometimes that's building the kind of plan above. Sometimes, when an old loss keeps hijacking the present, it's deeper reprocessing work. Either way, you don't have to sort it alone. Peer support helps too: both RESOLVE and Postpartum Support International (PSI) run free virtual groups where nobody needs the loss explained to them.

Frequently asked questions

Is it wrong to skip a baby shower because it's too painful? No. Protecting your mental health is a legitimate reason, not an excuse.

How do I answer "when are you having kids?" without falling apart? Decide your line before the event so you're not improvising under pressure. Something simple like "We'll see what life has in store" closes the topic while keeping things kind. You never owe anyone the details.

Why do these events feel so much harder than everyone tells me they should? Because you may be carrying a grief that others can't see — for a pregnancy, a loss, or a version of motherhood that hasn't arrived. Roughly 30–40% of people in infertility treatment experience depression and anxiety (ACOG). Your reaction is common and it makes sense.

When should I talk to a therapist about this? If dread, sleeplessness, avoidance, or low mood are spilling past the event itself and into your everyday life, that's a good time to reach out. Support can help you feel more like yourself again.

If summer's calendar has been quietly wearing you down, you don't have to keep bracing alone. Schedule a free 15-minute consultation to learn more about therapy.