- This topic has 8 replies, 8 voices, and was last updated 14 years ago by
.
-
Posts
-
A tale of two miscarriages, a dad’s story.
My wife June’s first miscarriage was relatively early in pregnancy. And it was just that, “my wife’s miscarriage”. It was all hers. For me, it was a women’s medical issue, a gynaecological matter, “no big deal”. I shrugged it off, concerned only with her healing and getting back to normal. For me, there was no real sense of a loss of a life, just a pregnancy that failed to take off. I don’t think that either of us went through a grieving process, certainly I didn’t. I just encouraged her to move on and get on with life.
And so we did. As nature took its course, in time June became pregnant again. To be completely honest, I wasn’t particularly welcoming of the news. At this point we had two wonderful, healthy children and as far as I was concerned we were complete. But pregnant she was, and so we began to prepare for a new arrival and I started to become more accepting of the situation, even enthusiastic. This time, because of the previous miscarriage, we were more aware of the possibility of things going wrong and had some early scans to see how things were progressing. I clearly remember the last of these scans where we could see the infant’s arm apparently waving. Later, we would come to think of this moment as her waving goodbye.
When she told me one day that she hadn’t felt any movement for a while, I thought little of it. The earlier movements had been quite faint and, surely, unborn infants must have quiet periods. But, to reassure her, and encouraged by our GP, we arranged another scan. This time was so different to the earlier ones. When the nurse told me that they could not detect a heartbeat, I simply refused to understand. I thought there must be a problem with the machine, or they were doing it wrong. But no, the truth began to force itself upon me. June was devastated. I felt so guilty because of my earlier lack of enthusiasm about the pregnancy; it was almost like I had put a curse on it.
The next few days are a bit of a blur with some very clear, stark moments remaining etched in my memory. June was admitted a few days later and Julie Ann was delivered at 24 weeks. At this stage, my primary focus was my wife, how to support her, console her and get back to our life together. This was a bit like the first miscarriage but with a bit more fuss and bother.
All of this changed when the nurse asked if we would like to see the baby. June was unsure but my morbid curiosity impelled me to say “yes”. And so, little Julie Ann was handed over to us in a kidney bowl, covered in green tissue paper. She was so tiny, yet so perfect. And so, so cold. I wanted to hold her, warm her up and give her the kiss of life. It was all I could do to restrain myself from trying. I had to keep telling myself it was too late; there was nothing I could do.
In an instant, it was no longer just the two of us in the room; now there were three. In that moment, I was transformed from concerned husband to devastated father. Now I suddenly experienced the full reality of what had happened. This was not a women’s medical issue; this was a death. My daughter lay dead in my hand, literally.
That was the moment I climbed on board an emotional roller-coaster and strapped myself in for a very rough ride. In the hours and days that followed I experienced emotions I never suspected existed. I went through anger, then rage, resentment, then bitterness, despair and frustration. I cried uncontrollably. Most of all, I felt impotent. I was supposed to be the one to make everything right, the fixer, the protector, the provider. I was failing on all counts and I could do nothing about it.
We buried Julie Ann in the Holy Angels plot in Glasnevin. As we slowly came to accept what had happened to us, we began to reflect on the first miscarriage and wondered how much we had missed out on. We had never grieved or even really acknowledged our first lost baby. Now we call her Lauren. We don’t actually know what sex the baby was, it was too early, but June’s instinct tells her it was a girl and that’s enough for me.
Julie Ann changed my life. I experienced a whole new set of emotions. It was like going from black and white TV to a full colour HD screen. Everything was sharper, deeper and richer. The pain was exquisite. But it was not all bad. I learned a new empathy, I became softer, more caring. Some might say I “got in touch with my feminine side”. It was an experience I would never wish to repeat but I have grown as a result.
So, there you have it. I cannot speak for all men, just this one man. I suspect most men have a similar experience of miscarriage, some like my first one a mere medical matter and some like my second, a death in the family.
Lorcan O’Toole
July 2009Mumstown would like to thank Lorcan for writing this article and giving it to us to post. It is honest, poignant and written beautifully and from the heart.
All too often Dads are forgotten when a baby is lost, so it is very important to recognize that Dads hurt too.
Many thanks again, Lorcan.
I was moved to tears by that story Lorcan, and it takes a lot for me..
It was so well written and the pain you felt jumped out of the screen as I read it…
I often wonder if most men feel this at these times but can’t show their feelings..I think this is definately where a lot of resentment could come in to a relationship..whereby the Mother is frustrated and upset that her partner isn’t "as upset" as they are..but the reality is far from that.
I wish men could show their feelings more, I know it is a genetic thing but I certainly think relationships would do better when both parties can share more deeply.
Sorry for your losses and thanks again for sharing this story.
Thanks so much for sharing your story. I m sitting here with tears streaming down my face. You are so brave to tell your story and I m sure it will help many people to understand how miscarriage affects both parents.
Thank you for sharing your story… it has me in tears too…. must be a terrible thing to have to go through…. my friend lost her baby recently at 33 weeks, a very tough time, but her strength and her husbands strength and support is getting them through it….
Just came across this. It was very brave of you to share it with others. It was beautifully written, honest and touching.
I hope things are getting easier for you and your wife.
Thank you for sharing such a deep and painful experience, I hope it illustrates to others just how deeply it can affect both Mums & Dads x
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.