July 3rd, 2007
Posted By: Jenna Hatfield
Categories: Grief

Gold Medal In recent discussion and blog commenting with others, some questions have come up about the way that society in general and, sadly, some adoptive parents treat birth parents with direct regard to their grief and loss. Having lived through my own pain while others have been living through their own as well, I have learned one thing: pain is not quantitative.

The pain of one group in the triad is not greater than another group’s pain. In fact, just because another group also experiences pain does not mean that someone else’s pain is diminished or negated. Pain is pain is pain. Grief is grief is grief. Loss is loss is loss.

I’ve seen birth parents be dismissed when it comes to discussing grief and loss because:

a) “She can go on to have other babies.”

b) “She has never experience the loss of a pregnancy. She doesn’t KNOW.”

c) “Well, if he’s sad now it’s his own fault for not being involved.”

My head spins and my heart aches. Addressing each issue:

a) No, there’s no guarantee that she can go on to have other babies. Beyond the fact that medical complications of labor and delivery itself causes risk to future pregnancy, there are some birth mothers who make the decision to avoid having another child. On top of that, to say something like that is to imply that a child (or memory of a child) can be replaced with another. Anyone who has experienced any form of grief and loss should know that is simply not the case.

b) Do you know that before you say it? Birth mothers are not immune to miscarriage; I’m a living example of that as are, unfortunately, too many other birth mothers that I know. Beyond that, the birth mother (in today’s world) has actually held that child in her arms and then said goodbye. I’m not saying that’s a pain worse than miscarriage (personally, I know them to be quite different) but it’s a unique pain in itself. Frankly, it would be my wish that no one would know the pain of miscarriage. It would be my wish that no one would know the pain of relinquishment. It would be my wish that no one would have to shoulder them both… and be left alone because their grief wasn’t “good enough” for someone else.

c) Too often, birth fathers get the short end of the compassion stick. However, they too experience pain, grief and loss. To assume that their level of involvement is directly correlated to how they feel about the child or will continue to feel about the child throughout their life is a common misconception. In fact, the adoption system words hard to make sure that birth father’s stay uninvolved so as not to “create problems.” Before you go judging a birth father’s grief process, find out how he was actually treated by the families and agencies or attorneys involved in the adoption.

These are three recent examples that I have seen of birth parents being told that their grief is “less than” someone else’s experience. To be honest, I don’t know what to tell the birth parents who have been told these things. The fighter in me wants to say mean things but what good does that do? I just went about saying that pain is not quantitative. What good would it do to try to prove that by saying something along the lines of, “Well, this is why my pain is worse.”

Do you even bother arguing? Is there a poignant phrase that would drive it home that the original commenter is out of line without making them feel “less than” in any way? Are there those who are simply never going to be willing to accept that those who have lived and chosen differently from them can also experience similar emotional responses? Are we ever going to be able to stand in the same room and say, “I acknowledge your pain and, like mine, I’m sorry that we have to feel it?”

There’s no gold medal for the person who hurts the most or longest or worst. There’s also no gold medal for tramping all over someone’s unique story and attached emotions. Grief and loss are expressly unique. While no two people can totally understand the other’s full realm of feeling, I think we can try to muster up a little understanding.

Don’t you think?

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For more on birth parent grief and loss, read:

1. Core Issues in Adoption: Grief by Jenna Hatfield.

2. Who Hurts the Most by Jan Baker.

3. Munchkin’s Birth Father: His Grief, Guilt and Sorrow by Jenna Hatfield.

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Photo Credit.

5 Responses to “Quantitative Pain: No Grief Gold Medal”

  1. JudyK says:

    Oh, the One-Uppers. Frankly, I don’t know if those people can be reached. They’re selfish. For some reason, they need to have their pain acknowledged as worse than others; I have no idea why. The Pain Olympics is one challenge I’ve never wanted to get a gold medal from.

    I have a feeling that those people are just never satisfied unless they’re the ones getting all the “Oh, you poor thing” attention.

    I’m with you. Pain is pain is pain. I see no reason to say that this pain is worse than that pain is worse than whatever pain.

    Even years after the fact, it still shocked me when another infertile asked me about ever getting pregnant and when I said that I had 2 miscarriages, she gushed, “Ohhhh, you’re SO lucky!!” Wow. Now, that’s what I’d call an unreachable One-Upper. Yeah, they’re everywhere.

  2. Well said and very well written.
    Thank you.

  3. Faith Allen says:

    Very well said.

    I tell people that the fact that another person has lost two legs does not, in any way, diminish my pain in losing one. Pain is painful.

    There is no value in “comparing” pains. Instead, I try to tap into the pain that I know in order to help me establish empathy for the pain that others are feeling, even if I have never experienced the other person’s exact form of pain.

    I don’t know why people get into a “contest” over whose pain hurts worse. ANY pain hurts.

    - Faith

  4. Chromesthesia says:

    I just want to be compassionate towards anyone that has suffered and contests about who suffers worse doesn’t make anyone feel better.

  5. Veronika says:

    I find the whole concept so childish. The same goes for adoptive or infertile parents who claim to love their children more than someone like me, who conceived my children “easily”. Since when is everything a competition? Sorry, but I missed the memo. No-one can see inside me to measure my pain or my love. Until they have that ability they can’t make any assumptions on my feelings. They should just grow up and let someone else have a place in the sun too.

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