Loss is never the same, no matter how similar it may seem. One thing that drives me absolutely batshit crazy is someone telling me they know how I feel. No, really, you don't. And I will not ever pretend I know how someone else feels.
I appreciate that often we can relate our pain to others, however we'll never know exactly how someone else feels. I feel a closeness with other mothers who have lost their child - or children - however they don't know my pain and I don't know theirs. We can say "Hey, I felt that way too" and there will be similarities. There will never be the same pain, though, because we are different people, with different children, different circumstances, and different loss.
I have a lot of mixed feelings on "level of loss" and which is "worse" than another. I ran into an old friend the other day who lost her sixteen year old daughter in a vehicle accident seven years ago. I asked how she was doing and she said "It still just sucks". Sounded pretty accurate to me, and what I expect it to feel like for the rest of my life. Sitting there talking to her I also felt like I could never understand her pain, and she could never understand mine.
Which one of us is more fortunate in such an unfortunate scenario?? Is she more fortunate because at least she had sixteen years with her daughter? She was able to watch her grow, play sports with her, laugh and cry, love and live with her child. I was robbed of all of that. Or am I fortunate that I can't miss those things that I never knew with Colton, and therefore she is entitled to more pain than me? I just don't know. I don't know which is worse or better, but either way, it just sucks.
I do get very angry and bitter when someone with a miscarriage tells me they understand how I feel or makes a huge deal of a miscarriage. I will say, I have never experienced a miscarriage and am certain it is sad and disappointing. However, it does NOT compare to a stillbirth.
A few months back a girl was going on and on about how she knew how I felt and when she lost her baby it just killed her inside. She just gushed about how devastating it was. I finally said, "I am so sorry you ever had to bury a baby too. It's the worst thing ever to hold your baby's empty body, plan a funeral, and bury your child." She immediately shut up.
You cannot compare a miscarriage to a stillbirth. You just can't. Is it still sad? Absolutely. There is a whole new level of loss, though, when you know your child's gender, your baby has a name, a nursery is ready, and all you're waiting for is baby to come home. A miscarriage frequently happens by nature ending a life that wouldn't make it ... my son was PERFECT. He was healthy and ready for this world. Had he been born alive he had the capacity to live. But then he died, for no damn good reason. I have no problem with the grief and sadness over a miscarriage. I DO have a problem with the association and relation of that to a stillbirth or infant loss. Apples and oranges people.
I have felt guilty for feeling this way and finally talked to a friend of mine about it. She has lost two babies; one during labor and one at 18 weeks. She told me that I was absolutely right, there is no comparison. Her son was on his way. He was alive in every aspect and then he was dead. He was a perfect little handsome boy, and had he been born alive he would have been wonderful and thrived. But there was an accident, something went awry, and suddenly - on what should have been the most wonderful happiest birthday - he was gone. Her second child lost was born at 18 weeks was a fully formed baby. Without a name, unprepared for this world, and a loss. A loss that couldn't have been prevented. A baby that couldn't have lived if born. A miscarriage, not a stillbirth. In her own words, there was no comparison.
I have reiterated before, and will again, that I understand that people try hard to console, comfort, and relate in an attempt to help and everyone is just doing the best they know how. Overall the gesture is appreciated. Sometimes, though, an appreciation for the fact that no matter how much you want to help, telling someone that has lost someone they love will never console them would go a long way. It's sometimes hard to smile and graciously say thank you when just the assumption that they know how you feel makes the pain that much heavier.
No one will ever know anothers' pain. That's a good thing. I would never want anyone to know how I feel ... I hate that there are so many angel moms that can even relate with me.
I don't know their pain, they don't know mine. Their loss is no greater, neither is mine. The sad truth is we are all truly alone in our struggles and pains and comparing and contrasting is just a smoke-screen to make us feel less alone and a little better. Prior to having my loss I would say to others "I can only imagine how you must feel". Now that I have experienced it I say "I could never imagine how you feel".
I wish that no one else could truly come close to understanding, and wish people didn't think they do when they don't.
More accurately, appreciate that you can still feel. The emptiness is a demon all its own.
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