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I’ve debated writing about this; the words still sting. I’ve been reminded by many a woman, some who have been through all three sides of the “fertility triad”, that obviously this woman has some work to do regarding her anger. Hopefully she works through it before they bring their daughter home from China. A child doesn’t need to feel as if she is a consolation prize, at best.

Anyway, I got this lovely message two days ago:

Funny how you knew that you were one of the people who hurt me. I’ve always thought of you as a kind and thoughful person. Your reaction to your miscarriage was a bit much. You weren’t trying to conceive. You didn’t even know you were pregnant. In my opinion, your reaction was a huge slap in the face to other woomen who’ve been through so much more than you.

One of my friends asked if she wanted a cookie for the “Pain Olympics.” To be fair, this woman had an ectopic pregnancy, lost a tube and then had her husband go through liver failure and a transplant which effected his fertility. They’ve been through the wringer and back again. But never once have I ever said that my pain is worse than hers. I’ve never once said my pain is worse, equal to or less than any other woman, mother or family.

My pain is mine. Anyone who has ever been pregnant, planned or not, knows of the immediate joy that spreads through your heart at the simple knowledge of knowing you are carrying a human being. (Just like any parent who has ever adopted a child knows that joy the moment they lay eyes upon their child.) In my personal experience, I’ve had that moment three times. First, with Munchkin, I had fear followed immediately behind by, “Oh my, a child. In my womb. Will she look like me? How can I all ready love this child?” As I had never birthed a child, I didn’t understand the feeling that was overwhelming throughout the pregnancy and sticks with me to this day. I loved her from the moment I saw those two surprising lines on the stick.

With BigBrother, we were trying, racing against time and my kidney, but the positive reading was still a surprise. My first thought? “I love this child so much I could burst and I understand that feeling, having given birth to the coolest Munchkin on the planet.” I understood the unconditional love that enters your heart the moment that you understand and accept your pregnancy. (This moment comes later for some families. As you note before, my moment came immediately after the initial fear.) With BigBrother, I understood the motherly love that was all ready flowing from head to toe. I loved this child as much as I loved the Munchkin… and the thought of finally being able to parent my child and show that love was unbelievable.

And then, with Rose, in the very same instant, I had two polar feelings. The “I’m Pregnant! A Baby! OMG!” feeling followed immediately behind, if not coincided with, “She’s gone. She’s all ready gone.” My loss is my own. I will not claim it to be the worst emotional moment known to mankind. I will also not demean my child in heaven and say that she meant absolutely nothing to me. I mourn for the things that she will never be. Even with Munchkin, though I do not get to parent her, I see what she does, what she will become. I see her laugh. I see her cry. I will never see Rose do any of those things. She won’t skin her knees and come crying to me to kiss them “all better.” She won’t ask me to read her a bedtime story. She won’t fall in love and have her heart broken.

No, we were not trying. No, we did not know of our loss until it was all ready gone. Does this make my pain less? Of course not. Pain is relative to every unique situation. Some of my pain is compounded into my issues with Munchkin’s placement; I am aware of that. I acknowledge it. Fully. While we weren’t trying, both J and I take parenting very seriously and love every single moment that we have with our Son. We both love every single moment that we have with Munchkin. We loved every single moment of my pregnancies. (Maybe minus morning sickness…) And we would have loved this child, unconditionally, every single moment of her life.

And since she is all ready gone, we will love her every moment of our lives.

I am sorry if my mourning is a slap in the face to others who have been through more. I will not deny them their pain. I will not minimize their pain. It is real. And it hurts. But don’t tell me I don’t have a right to grieve. My heart aches with love for the child that I will never see, never hold, never kiss. My heart aches for all the other women across this world who have felt this pain, for the women who will someday feel this pain. No one should.

Not even someone callous enough to tell another human being that their grieving is improper. I’d take that pain from her in an instant if I could; no one, ever, should feel this pain.

Oh. Wow.

Yes, I do hope she works through some, well, a lot, of that anger. And in the end, the one who could pay the most is the child.

Infertility is truly one of the circles of hell, but even so, it doesn’t give someone the license to abandon all civility and compassion. It just doesn’t. And I don’t know what she’s thinking, jumping into adoption. The good thing is that adopting from China isn’t a quick process; maybe the timeline is long enough that it will give her time to process her grief; for her future daughter’s sake, I hope and pray so.

And I’m sorry you were caught in the middle of her own madness.

You don’t even need to respond to folks like that. Sheesh. Just pray she gets over herself before she brings home a child!

Jenna -

That lady had no compassion whatsoever. Your pain is real and valid. And you need that time to grieve. It’s not easy. I’ve gone through it 3 times. And the pain is real. My heart went out to you when you posted that story because I had walked in your shoes in that event of your life.

I’m an adoptive mom and an adoptee that loves reading your blog because you shoot from the hip and say it from the heart. I’ve learned alot from your writings. Hope you don’t mind me commenting on this.

Judy; I have no experience with infertility. Obviously. I do have experience with a ticking clock on my kidney and thus, also, my fertility. But no, I’ve never been through the process of trying everything and failing. My heart grieves for those who have. (Ya know… compassion?) Anyway, I, too, thought that China’s timeline, especially with the current stall, might be beneficial to her healing process. Adoption isn’t the easy way to a child either. There is no easy way. They are all hard as hell.

Stacey; Pssshhh, why would I mind your comments? I love to know new people are reading. Thank you for your compliments. I also like the “shoot from the hip” comment. That’s me, in a nutshell. ;) Thank you for sharing your story as well. If I’ve learned anything from this miscarriage, other than I don’t like it, it’s that it happens more often than we talk about over brunch with casual friends… and there is no right or wrong way to grieve.

Your grief is your own of course and I’m truly sorry for your loss as well as the physical problems you’re undergoing.

I’ve read back through your current posts.

As I said to Karen W., keep on writing.

Ann

Jenna, as you know, you endured a loss and no one has a right to tell you how it should affect you and how you should react to it. I am appalled by her statement! I wonder if she also tells mothers who suffer the death of a child that they don’t deserve to grieve if they have other children. Each child is an individual; each loss is horrible. As you know.

I’m. Speechless.

That is the absolute epitome of uncompassionate behavior.

Jenna,

You may not have or now suffer from infertilty, but you have obviously suffered in other ways and therefore, you really can have compassion for those of us who have. I mean, come on — have you suffered loss? Ummmm, hell yes! Let’s see — Munchkin, difficulties of having as many kids as you want whenever you want due to your kidney issues, your miscarriage. So for this person to try to say that you don’t know what other women go through. This is what just about put me through the roof. YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT OTHER WOMEN GO THROUGH??!!

OK, breathe, Judy, breathe. Granted, she has been through a lot. And you? Ya, well. Need I say more? Yes, compassion. You have it, my dear, in spades. She? I don’t get it, I really don’t. Because what the difficulties I went through in my life, the one thing that they DID give me was COMPASSION for other people who have gone through something similar. I have always wondered how some people can go through something horrendous and somehow miss that valuable lesson. It really is like something is missing in their heart. Just really hard, if not impossible, for me to understand.

So, while I hope the China process is long enough, I have to say I wonder. I hope and pray so. I really do. For the child’s sake.

Your pain is your pain is your pain is your pain. Period. If you’re not going to “go on and on” about your pain in your own journal, where else can you go? When I was 21 I had an abortion because my fear that turning into my mother was genetic was so great. My husband and I lost our first baby. In my small secret place in my heart I felt it was eye for an eye. We went on to have two more boys - both are special needs. I found out AFTER I had them that I only had a 60% chance of carrying them to term without one of us (baby or me) dying due to a congenital birth defect in my reproductive organs. It is probably I never would have tried had I known that before. Anyway, my point is - I have all kinds of pain of my own. It is no worse, no better, than anyone else’s, but it is mine. What you went through hurts. It was still a loss of a daughter, and no one can take that from you.

Jenna- It’s inconceivable to me that someone would honestly feel as though your mourning is a slap in the face to them. This isn’t a contest of who’s experienced more pain, for heaven’s sake! You have every right to mourn in whatever fashion you choose and if blogging about it helps you process, then blog on! I’m listening!

Even though you can understand that she is angry and stupid, it still hurts when people say unkind things to you. Some people say unkind things because they don’t know the “right” things to say and some people say unkind things because they are ignorant and angry. The truth is that all of us can look around and see someone whose pain is greater than our own, but that does not mean that our pain is not real. I hope you are healing some. It is so very hard. I still remember some of the unkind comments that I received….”You’re just not learning the lesson that God is trying to teach you” that one after my 2nd miscarriage…another personal favorite, “I guess you aren’t the baby machine that you thought you were”. My rambling really comes down to this, be glad that you truly have compassion and respect for others - those are not gifts that everyone possesses. Take care of yourself.

You know my response.

I just cannot fathom all this talk about infertility… but while I understand, completely the loss of a child.. I am most upset about the “to women who have been through more than you” part of it. Is infertility the be all and end all of things to be through?

Why do I get the feeling that she grew up sheltered and doesnt really know what it means to “be through” anything. Ok I could be wrong.. she could have grown up on the street corner begging for food… but I think if that were true.. she may have compassion enough not to share that crude comment. My gut says anyone who has “been through more” would not be so callous.

Grrr. Still mad for you.

just joining in again. i don’t know what to say about everything that’s been going on the last few months with you. but i wish i were there to give you a big hug. i’m thinking of you.

I’m an adoptive mom, ten years secondary infertility (well more, but I don’t count the years since we adopted) and I know that kind of pain. It still wouldn’t make the pain of infertility loss worse than the pain of a miscarriage.

You can’t compare pain of any kind- you just can’t. It’s so unique to the individual and should be valued as a valid experience.

I ‘thought’ I was pregnant many years back. The first time my period skipped months and I didn’t know I had PCOS. When I found out (after three months of negatives, a doctor visit and an ultrasound) I wasn’t, I was devastated. Ya, it wasn’t a miscarriage but it sure felt like I lost a baby. It would have been nice if someone would have said, I’m so sorry. But it was more along the lines of, well you weren’t pregnant.

So sorry for your loss.

Pain is not a competition. Everyone’s pain is valid and real and whether you’ve planned your pregnancy for 10 years or conceived without knowing it I should imagine the sense of utter, utter desolation that comes with a miscarriage is common to all of us. The-my-pain-is-bigger-than-your-pain tone of your correspondant confused me, to me suffering is about more than being the centre of attention. Poor thing, she must be very screwed up.

I hope you’re healing well! Mine was in May. I knew for three days. Good luck and god bless.

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