The Difference | slackermama . com

by Marilyn on August 22, 2005

One of my biggest downfalls is I tend to think a lot. I think when I should be doing other things, like working on blog designs or sleeping. And lately I’ve been thinking about the difference between the aftermath of a miscarriage vs. the aftermath of a stillbirth.

First off, here is the mosaic garden stone we made over the weekend for Jackson. We’re going to place it at the cemetery as we still don’t have a proper headstone. And its so sad to go and see that unmarked grave, with just toys and decorations we’ve put there to show us where it is. I took this picture after it had cured overnight and yes, we’re keeping it in the oven. That way the cats won’t be tempted to play with it and believe me, they’d be tempted. We’ll probably go next Sunday to place it. I think it turned out pretty nice. Anyhow, on with the show.

Physically, and probably emotionally too (if you could manage to seperate them in your mind and heart), the stillbirth would be the bigger obstacle to overcome. After Jackson, I had to deal with my milk coming in, my incision which refused to heal, losing the “baby weight”, and all those wonderful post-partum hormones. Plus a giant helping of grief. After Shmear (s/he will never be known as anything else), the physical recovery has been simpler. Bleeding for a few days followed by intermittent spotting for the next two weeks. No breast problems, no incisions… comparatively the miscarriage is a lot easier to deal with afterward.

Emotionally, I’m not so sure.

Yes, we had so much more time to bond with Jackson. By the time a woman makes it to 38 weeks, she’s pretty darned sure she’s getting a baby out of the deal. That was a *lot* to deal with. But this time around, we had such tenuous hope. We knew exactly what could go wrong and knew there was never going to be a moment where we could totally relax. The second trimester felt better, but as we learned, it’s by far no guarantee. We wanted this baby every bit as much as we ever wanted Jackson. In fact, maybe we wanted him/her more. Because we knew what we could lose and how long and hard it had been to get to that point. Plus, losing Shmear brought back all the emotions and pain and anguish we felt after Jackson died. It was like no time had passed. Like ripping off a scab to expose the gaping wound beneath. Same wound, just maybe a little more raw this time around. Some salt has been rubbed in for good measure.

But I get the impression, from the rest of the world, from family, from friends… heck, even from myself, that I should be getting over this a lot quicker. That it’s somehow not as “important” as the stillbirth, because it was just a miscarriage. People whom we know know of our situation make no mention of it around us. The very same people who 18 months before let us cry on their shoulders and urged us to talk about how we were doing. Is it because they don’t know what to say to us? Maybe we’ve migrated from being a sad case to being a tragic case. Maybe they’re afraid they’ll upset me more (as if that’s possible)? Maybe they’re afraid they’ll “catch” it.

I haven’t had this problem with friends I have on the internet, interestingly enough. It is somehow easier to offer support online than in person? But I am extremely grateful for all my online friends, you guys are like very real friends to me. You have been wonderful. So don’t think I’m talking about you, please.

I don’t want to ignore Shmear. I was pregnant for only 15 weeks (nearly sixteen). Yes, I count those weeks because even though we know the baby died earlier, I was pregnant and I felt pregnant up until the day of my D&E. No one can take those weeks away from me. 15 compared to 38 is a lot less. But my heart loved this baby just as much. To me, the pain is the same, maybe even worse somehow.

I feel so bad for women who’ve had miscarriages. Is this what it’s like? Do you all really get this poor an amount of support? My heart goes out to you. I don’t feel cheated so much, since I have felt the outpouring of love and support after Jackson died. But if I hadn’t, I would feel very, very, very alone right now.

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