When I was 16 my mom miscarried really early. My parents hadn't told us about the pregnancy, but did tell us about the miscarriage. They didn't mark it in any way. I, however, was devastated. I secretly named the baby, found my smallest stuffed animal, gave it the same name and carried it in my pocket for months. I didn't know how else to process it. My faith, at that time, which was similar to Jill's, says that any pregnancy is a child, no matter how far along. They make no distinction between 3 weeks and 30 weeks.
This may be what Jill needs to grieve. I eventually stopped carrying aro