โWhen women discover that I lost a baby during the 20th week of pregnancy, they will often open up to me about their own loss, but reduce its significance by saying they were โonlyโ six weeks, eight weeks, or fill-in-the-blank weeks pregnant when their loss occurred. They usually follow up that โonlyโ statement by saying something along the lines of how their loss does not compare to mine.
And I guess Iโve said or thought some variation of the same thing. When discussing my early loss versus my later loss, Iโve reduced it to being nothing more than a medical mishap that occurred when I was โonlyโ six weeks pregnant. And when hearing of someone elseโs full-term loss, Iโve considered how much worse it might have been to lose my baby at 40 weeks instead of at โonlyโ 20 weeks.
But thatโs where the problem lies. Itโs in the comparison. Itโs in thinking that one pregnancy, one life, is more significant than another based on its duration. Itโs in thinking that the loss of a baby who was too small to be seen, or held, is less significant than the baby who was big enough for a crib, but was laid in a casket instead.
The truth is that my losses are no more or less significant than anyone elseโs. Whether it was an early loss or a late loss, Iโve missed out on the same things as every other loss mom. Iโve missed a lifetime of getting to know two of my children. Iโve missed milestones and celebrations. Iโve missed the mundane moments that would have made up the majority of memories with the two babies who didnโt make it home.
I donโt know the details of anyone elseโs loss, nor can I say I know exactly how they were affected by loss. But I do know that there is no โonlyโ in pregnancy loss. Not in mine or anyone elseโs.
There is โalready.โ
There was a pregnancy that had already progressed to six, or eight, or twenty weeks along.
There was already life as evidenced by two pink lines. The same pink lines that had already alerted a woman to her role as mother.
There was already the sound of a heartbeat, whether it beat for a day, a month, or longer.
There was already a connection between mother and baby.
And there was already love planted deeply in a motherโs heart. A love that had already begun to grow from the moment the first sign of life was displayed in the once empty window of a pregnancy test.
It doesnโt matter if a pregnancy โonlyโ lasted for a few weeks. It doesnโt matter if it was an early loss or a late loss.
What matters is that there was already a baby who was loved immensely. And love cannot be measured in weeks.โ

This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Jenny Albers. You can follow her journey on Facebook. Subscribe to our free email newsletter, Living Betterโyour ultimate guide for actionable insights, evidence backed advice, and captivating personal stories, propelling you forward to living a more fulfilling life.
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