Father's Day

I think sometimes as women, we forget , that our DHs, whether they show it or not are on this journey of infertility and or/recurrent losses too. I asked my husband (who will henceforth be referred to as JD for his initials) how he felt about today being Father's Day. Had Squirt lived or Chicken Little lived he would be a daddy by now. Had Snowflake or Rocky lived, he would know by now whether he would be a dad to a boy or girl. He answered that he was OK. He did not want anything honoring the day for him. Although, he did say that when we are in our home state next week he does not want to hold the two babies that belong to our sets of coupe friends. He compared it to the "Stanley Cup Curse." "If you touch it before you win it, then you will lose it."

I thought that today of all days I would share something he wrote when we found out we were pregnant with Chicken Little:

Women Aren’t the Only One Bleeding
“No longer in the womb but forever in our heart”

The funny thing is, is that as I type this, my wife is 9 weeks pregnant. The joy that is in my heart has replaced the feelings of loss and sadness. The funny thing is, is that as men, we are not supposed to feel sadness, the least of all at the death of a child. A miscarriage is the most painful lesson I have ever learned as a human being. I have learned that I am not the most gifted athlete, I have definitely learned that I am not the smartest human on the planet, and I have learned that I am not as “strong” as I thought I was.

I was 28 when my wife told me we were pregnant, she was late, and I was excited. We rushed to tell everyone, I even copied the positive pregnancy tests on our scanner. The conversation I had with my parents was the best we ever had. To finally have something positive to tell my parents was a joy I will never have again.

I grew up in a loving household of four boys. My parents did the best they can, and better than most. Masculinity was not missing in our household. I have always felt a gravity towards societies version of masculinity. Men were the bread winners and women were better at taking care of homes and babies. I always thought that women were more emotional than men: that is until this happened.

My parents were the best that their generation could offer. Mom and Dad were a dying breed in this country that taught their children right from wrong. They taught us that fate was what we made of it. Why then did my child have to die before he/she could make their world what they wanted.

I feel this loss as I have felt no other. I have lost grandparents, I have felt the sting of losing someone close, yet this was different. This was like a knife cutting into my chest. I had to be strong for my wife, and yet my body was crying to God for answers. I let myself feel the grief, alone in the car on my way to work the next day. There was no sick days that could cover this loss. No personal grievance day that could quench the thirst of my pain. I drove in silence, no radio, no phone, nothing to make me think of the child that was now passing through my wife’s body. My wife was losing our child and there was nothing we could do about it.

This is an addendum I wish I would have never had had to written. It is now almost 9 months since the first and we have had 2. The second was a missed miscarriage. Not only did we have the slap in the face of another, but my wife went through the pains of childbirth. What kind of “God” allows this to happen? Not only do we have the pain of loss that will echo our hearts for all time, but she has to go through the physical and emotional toll of a birthing that we will not come out of with a gift that we have been praying for forever. I watched as my wife went through what most would consider hell. I have no idea what is going on with our babies.