Miscarriage

Losing a child is awful on a multitude of fronts.

Your wife

My wife has been on the front line of this pregnancy. She felt a physical change inside her, and knew she was pregnant. From that moment on, she couldn’t wait to meet her child.

She spent her mornings in the bathroom fighting off nausea and her afternoons fighting off fatigue and sleep. The only thing making these trials worth it was the prize at the end of the race.

The mental tortures

Now she has even more physical anguish to go through, as her body attempts to remove what is left of your pride and joy. The mental battles, however, are worse. My wife is running the entire pregnancy through her mind, questioning every decision she made. She feels it’s her fault the baby is gone. She worries about the food she ate, the activities she did, about being too sedentary, about any number of things, that, truth be told, have absolutely no bearing on what has happened.

She worries she forced this pregnancy on you, not heeding your advice on earlier complications. She worries something was wrong with the baby. She worries something’s wrong with her body. She worries she’s an awful person because she’s hoping for the former, as opposed to the latter.

Your children

We told our children a baby brother or sister was on their way. This has made it tougher than our previous two. The first occurred before Tom. The second was an early miscarriage, we hadn’t felt the need to tell the boys about it yet. This one though, this one we were sure about.

Tom actually got mad at me when I tried to talk to him about it. He doesn’t understand why God wants to keep the baby. He knows his mother is upset. I know he doesn’t think it’s fair.

He brought my wife a rock from a gem mining excursion we took on our last vacation, his favorite blue one. He’s trying whatever he can to cheer his mother up.

Huck is completely confused. Just last week he was blowing raspberries on my wife’s belly, poking her, and cooing “Baybee!” Now he sees his mom and Grandmother crying, and he’s been told we won’t be seeing the baby anymore.

On a car ride yesterday he just said, “Mommy, we don’t see baybee?”

What do we tell them? How do you help a child understand? I don’t think you can.

The loneliness

Raising a child is a community endeavor. Everyone comes together to help.

When going through a miscarriage however, there’s the feeling you’re on an island. Friends and family attempt to give you space, unsure of what to say. They try to contact you, and say the wrong things, and you nod, and say thank you, as you know they’re trying to help. They don’t acknowledge it at all and hope you don’t think they don’t care, or don’t see you crying, and think you’re feeling just fine. Luckily for my wife and I, friends, family, and neighbors came forward, letting us in on their experiences.

So, for anyone going through this, know you aren’t alone. Feel free to reach out to me. Talk to your family. They’re there for you.

If you need more resources, you can go to this support groups page.

Please know, you aren’t alone.