Motherhood, Masculinity, and the Medicine of Asking for Help
So much changes when you become pregnant—and that’s not even accounting for the trials and tribulations of fertility challenges.
I’m currently nine months pregnant. I’ve battled hyperemesis gravidarum, I’ve stopped working, and there have been many days where I’ve felt completely debilitated, stuck in bed. I’m deeply grateful for my supportive husband, who has picked up so much of the slack in our lives.
One thing I’ve realized during this dark, cocooning season is how lonely pregnancy can feel. My husband (34) and I (33) don’t have any friends nearby in the Bay Area who have children, want them, or are close to that stage. We’re the first in our circle. While our broader community—both here and internationally—is amazing, we’re on a different life path right now.
I’ve found myself gravitating more toward women—near and far—who are interested in midwifery, babies, or motherhood. At the same time, I’ve subconsciously pulled back a bit from friendships that don’t resonate with this current season as I navigate this unknown and hysterically emotional period. There’s nothing wrong with that; relationships ebb and flow with life.
Over half of American mothers (56%) report that they lack a “non-family village” of support. This is so unnatural to our tribal roots, it’s no wonder so many mothers feel isolated. We’re fortunate to have a wide range of ways to stay connected, but that same digital ease also enables a physical distance that leaves many mothers without hands-on support. It can feel superficial—but it’s better than nothing.
My husband and I don’t have parents nearby, which is a common reality in the individualistic urban life. But what happens when you not only don’t live near family, but also have one parent who is completely estranged—especially during such a pivotal moment?
Pregnancy brings with it not only physical and emotional changes, but also deep reflection. You start looking back—at your own childhood, your attachment styles, your traumas. You think about what kind of parent you want to be, and what you want to avoid replicating.
My husband and I have done a lot of inner work to show up as the best partners and parents we can be, but there’s still pain. It hurts when the confusion and grief creep in—wondering how a parent could emotionally or physically abandon their child—especially when I feel so wildly in love with the life growing inside me.
It brings up a resurgence of old wounds and anger. I don’t understand how my father could disappear when I feel my heart expanding with so much love for my son. And, pregnancy hormones intensify everything, making it nearly impossible to compartmentalize emotions.
To be specific: my father found a new family when I was 12. They’re lovely people, and I’m truly grateful for their presence in his life. I don’t worry about his well-being—he’s 78 now—but I still have no idea what a present, devoted father looks like.
We’re having a son, and I consider it an honor to raise a man at this time. It feels like a chance to help heal some of the wounds in our masculine lineages. But it’s also hard. How do I embody or model what I never had?
Conscious masculine energy is grounded in integrity, commitment, and structure—a willingness to recommit, especially in fear or conflict. That wasn’t my father. When we tried to call and share the sex of our baby, he was with his other family and said he was “too busy” to talk for 5 minutes. He hasn’t offered to visit or help in any way. That’s not surprising. For the past 10 years, I’ve kept more distance—because he made it clear he doesn’t want to be involved.
The most merciful thing I can do is accept that he’s shown me who he is. Maybe he gave what he could—visiting my sister and me until we were about 10 and 13, then telling us we needed to “be grown-ups.” I’ve long since stopped expecting anything from him. It's easier that way.
Growing up without an engaged father is, sadly, incredibly common. As of 2022, over one in four American children are raised in fatherless homes (U.S. Census Bureau), which comes with a slew of issues, one being that mothers bear the brunt of EVERYTHING, which wipes out feminine energy and they usually don’t get enough credit. This creates generational cycles: men who don’t know how to father with love and discipline, who feel shame in their masculinity, and who disengage from their families. For women, the absence of a father often leads to a longing to be rescued, to play every role for their children, and to burn out more easily. It leaves women feeling unsafe and unprotected around men.
Many women with father wounds often find themselves repeating familiar patterns in adult relationships. They may try to mother emotionally unavailable men, justify a partner’s lack of commitment, fall in love with potential, become bitter, overly sexualize, or end up in emotionally or physically abusive relationships—settling for scraps of affection in place of genuine connection, even if it’s harmful.
Pregnancy, along with major life transitions, often invites deep reflection—on our childhoods, the way we were parented, and the kind of parents and people we hope to become. For me, this process has unearthed generational wounds, particularly around the masculine. It’s forced me to reconcile my father’s absence with the profound love I feel for the baby boy growing inside me.
This journey is about releasing expectations, being clear about our needs, and allowing others to show up for us. It’s about doing the inner work to break cycles, even when we weren’t given a clear model of how to be, which most of us weren’t.
A friend recently expressed surprise that I grew up "fatherless"—especially since I’m now in a deeply loving, committed marriage. So, how do we break the cycle, especially during transformative moments like becoming a parent?
Work 1:1 with a therapist, coach, or healer. This is your one life—do the ancestral healing, process the trauma, and release it somatically. You’ll be better for it, and so will your future.
If you're a woman, try a forgiveness ritual with the masculine. If forgiveness is out of reach, start with curiosity: What could healthy masculinity look like? What would it feel like to invite that energy into your life—and your being?
If you're a man, engage in a feminine reclamation ritual. Be honest about the ways you may have harmed or misunderstood women because of your own wounds. How did your father figure fail you? What did he teach you? Do you feel safe in your masculinity? Do you want to protect or harm the feminine? Be real.
Find a well-held women’s or men’s circle. Some of the deepest healing I’ve experienced has come through group work—trainings, retreats, and circles. Transformation is amplified through community.
If you're TTC or pregnant, invest in inner development. This could look like mindfulness and compassion, inner-child work, relationship and attachment studies, tantra, trauma release exercises (TREs), or consistent spiritual practice. Do the work now—it lays the foundation for your parenting.
Practice open, vulnerable communication with your partner and support system. Allow yourself to receive love and help. You don’t have to do it all alone—and you won’t get your needs met unless you name them. And when needs aren’t met by others, self-regulate with compassion.
Don’t be afraid to ask your community for support. Be specific about what you need—people can always say no, and that’s okay. But getting into the habit of receiving support is powerful. It’s something many of us struggle with. For example, when I was 8 months pregnant and feeling pretty immobile, I asked a friend to please bring me a bagel and a latte from my favorite café. She was so surprised—and impressed—that I simply asked for what I wanted, it ended up being a healing realization for her, too.
Lastly, remember to pendulate between healing and joy. It's easy to get lost in the sauce of our shadows—making excuses, breaking commitments, and becoming overly identified with our diagnoses and neuroses. But that doesn’t serve us or our relationships and tends to create attachment with our stories. Joy is just as important, if not more so, than working through our pain.
Sending loads of love and warmth your way!!! Please feel free to post a comment or like below if this resonated with you!
Love,
Empress Wen (@abundantflirt)
_________
Current Offerings:
Organic Whipped Tallow Cream — I’ve received RAVE reviews and re-occurring customers for my homemade whipped tallow balm. It can be used for dry skin, stretch marks, natural retinol, wrinkles, and even sunscreen! Each cream contains organic beef tallow, essential oils, argan, jojoba, and coconut oils. Each 4oz glass container is only $25 (shipping already included), and you receive a free lip balm if you purchase two creams. If you’re interested, feel free to email me your order count and address here.