What If Your Kids Never Get the Grandparents You Dreamed Of?

She lay in bed at 4 am, wide awake—again.

Not because the baby was crying. Not because she was behind on work or overwhelmed by the laundry (though, that too).

But because she couldn’t stop thinking about how her kids were growing up… and their grandparents hardly seemed to notice.

She’d tried everything. Invited them over for dinner. Sent adorable videos of her toddler’s first dance class. Offered to FaceTime whenever they were free.

And still—silence. Or, at best, vague replies. “We’ve been so busy.” “Let’s try next weekend.” “Tell the kids we say hi.”

Meanwhile, she saw the pictures. Her friends’ kids beaming next to doting grandparents.

Stories about spontaneous visits, sleepovers, shared traditions.

And it broke something in her—not because she needed her parents to show up for her, but because her kids deserved more.

If you’ve ever felt this heartbreak—that quiet, aching gap between what you hoped your kids would have and what’s actually happening—you’re not alone.

It’s a grief that doesn’t get talked about.

Because you’re supposed to just be grateful. For your healthy kids. For your stable job. For whatever support you do have.

And yet… when your kids ask why Grandma didn’t come to the recital, or why they haven’t been to Grandpa’s house in a while, your stomach drops.

You’re the one trying to hold it all together.

Trying to build connection. Trying to create a sense of family.

Trying to protect your kids from the sting of feeling unwanted.

But deep down, you feel it, too.

Here’s what I want to say, just in case no one else has:

You’re not asking for too much.

You’re not overreacting.

And it’s okay to feel sad—or even angry—about this.

Because when we become moms, we often start dreaming of a big, beautiful web of love around our kids. And when parts of that web are missing, it hurts.

Not because you’re needy.

But because you love so deeply.

And while you can’t control how others show up…

You get to grieve the gap.

You get to name the loss.

And you still get to be the kind of parent who shows up with her whole heart.

Even when others don’t.

If this resonates with you, coaching might help.

Not because I have a script to fix your family dynamics—no one does.

But because you deserve a place where you get to be cared for. Where your heartbreak has room to breathe. Where we can gently untangle the guilt, the resentment, the mental spirals—and help you show up with strength and softness, even in the messiest moments.

This is the kind of work I do with moms every day.

Not to make them less emotional.

But to make space for the full truth of their experience—and help them find steadiness again, even when others don’t change.

If you’re carrying a quiet heaviness like this, I’d be honored to support you.

You don’t have to keep holding it all on your own.

PS – If this story resonated, and you’re curious what it would be like to have someone in your corner, I’d love to talk with you. Here’s the link to book a call. There's no sales pressure and I promise you'll learn something fascinating about yourself. 





​