Friday, July 26, 2013

Degrees of Loss

Losing your child is hell and you feel like you are the only person in the world whose heart has broken like that.  Then you meet others in the baby loss and child loss community and you hear of other hells that seem just as bad or even worse than what you have lived through and you start to measure degrees of loss.  At first I was jealous of those parents who got to see their child breathe and live only to have them die later.  They got to hold their living baby and whisper sweet words to them, I only got to hold my daughters' body.  Then the parents who had their babies for weeks or even months before they died, I was so envious of the time they got to spend.  Was their loss less than mine because they got to have those amazing minutes, days, weeks or months?  At the time it felt that way, but now having Rosabella for not just minutes or days, but 9 weeks I cannot imagine the hell of losing her.  A new perspective on loss has reached me, having those memories does not make it easier, it makes in harder.  Rosabella has brought me so much understanding about being human, just like Grace taught me how deeply you can love another person, even before they are born, even before they have taken a breath, even if they don't.  What I know now is that losing your child whenever, however is hell, there are no degrees of loss it is all hell, different hells, but hell all the same.  We have all lost our babies and no matter how long we got to know them for they are still gone.  I wish kind thoughts to all those mamas I was jealous of before, I just did not know and I am sorry.


  1. My oldest son was 3 when his little brother died. Even though I have been through a child loss now, I cannot even fathom the thought of my oldest son (now 6) dying. The thought fills me with absolute terror. Maybe because I lost his brother our bond is even stronger than it was before or maybe because, since I've lost one child, I KNOW what it feels like now. It's kind of funny that you used to be jealous of people who got to know their babies and hold them and talk to them. I used to be jealous of those who didn't. Then, when pregnant with my daughter, I suffered a partial placental abruption at 22 weeks and was told that she was going to be born that night and "might live a few hours." She held on until 37 weeks. The thought of losing her was horrifying, especially since she was my "rainbow baby." I don't think there is a better or worse. It's all different and it all just sucks.

  2. I guess you were jealous of me then dear. It never showed. Some boys in my community died a few days after Eva died. They were 14. Some unkind person told me that it would have been harder for those families to lose their child at 14 then for me to lose Eva at 10 months. At almost 2 years later I envy them their time with their sons and I'm sure they think I didn't know Eva long enough to miss her. There is no measuring loss or love or brokenheartedness. It all just sucks. Enjoy your rainbow my dear.