One is not less than the other

     Have you ever experienced the craziness of feeling like you’re alone in something because you’ve never heard anyone else mention it and then the moment that it happens to you, everyone starts sharing their story? That’s the way stillbirth was for me. I knew it happened but didn’t know anyone that had experienced it; at least, that’s what I thought. Before losing Wyatt, I only knew a couple people who had even lost a baby shortly after they were born. It isn’t that it doesn’t happen; it is just that we don’t talk about it. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t think that stillbirths or early infancy death is a topic that should be had every time you speak with people, but the reality is that these heart-wrenching experiences happen a lot more than anyone is willing to talk about.
     The one heartbreaking experience that I hear about all of the time and have for a long time is miscarriage. I have several friends and know of many others that have experienced this tragedy. Some have had several miscarriages. What strikes me as odd is the way people react to those who have suffered a miscarriage. They are saddened by the news, but that is usually as far as it goes. If they are close to the person, they may ask if they need anything, but that is only within the first week or two of the miscarriage. So, why is this odd to me? From the outside looking in, with a different perspective because of losing Wyatt, it appears to me that most people see the hurt of a miscarriage being less or “not as bad.” I have even had women who have suffered a miscarriage tell me their story only to follow it up with “it isn’t nearly as hard as what you’re going through though.” Why isn’t it? Didn’t your baby die too? Why is my pain more than yours? It isn’t. For both of us, one minute we had a little life in us and then in the next, that life stopped. Obviously the circumstances are different, but that is the case if you look at two stillbirth stories side by side.
     As we march closer to the second Wyatt’s Day, I find myself not just hurting for me but for a dear friend too. She lost her baby within a week of Wyatt’s death. She hurts, she cries, she wonders what would be as well. The only difference is that her loss was a miscarriage. Very few people even knew she was pregnant. I didn’t. It was too much to tell me, and I don’t blame her. She is a very private person and wouldn’t be the type to put it out there, but there were people that knew. I always wonder what Wyatt’s cry would have sounded like. I always wonder if he would have had brown eyes like his brothers or would they be different. My friend didn’t even know if she was carrying a little boy or girl. She wasn’t even given the opportunity to see her little one moving, even from the inside. When we would talk she would express the exact same feelings that I had. Of course she would! She lost a baby too!  As the weeks followed our losses, I found it difficult to stomach, at times, how people seemed to fade away faster for her. Maybe her quietness gave people the impression that she didn’t need them, but why is that ever a reason to stop talking to a friend that’s hurting? Maybe it is because  miscarriage is defined so differently by society that we brush it off like it wasn’t a baby.
  Please let me set the record straight. Women who suffer a miscarriage have lost a child. They hurt and deserve your love and support as well. The hurt isn’t less than a woman who was given more time with their child growing inside of them. The hurt is different, but of course it would be. With love-Heather

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