Mr. Miscarriage…

I thought I moved beyond the loss, but I found myself in my office, at work, angry for no apparent reason.



I asked my husband if he would like to be a guest on my blog, talking about what our miscarriages were like from his perspective. No one talks about these experiences, but espcially what it is like from a man’s perspective. So without further ado, here’s what my husband had to say!


My advice: Manage your expectations.  Control the hype train and maybe miscarriage number one won’t hurt as much.

Miscarriage number two wasn’t a sneaky emotional bastard like number one.  Maybe because I took my own advice or maybe because I was numb, but number one sucked, plain and simple.  Nothing will test your emotions as a man like losing your first potential child.  Especially when you get your hopes up, start giving it a nickname and dream of what he/she will look like running down the hall when you chase them as monster Dad.  These were the things I did during our first pregnancy.  I should have known better.  I worried, of course, about birth defects and such, but I didn’t think we’d lose our first born before 8 weeks.  No, our first would make it out and would be a son.

*Knock Knock* “Oh, hello Reality, haven’t seen you in a while, what can I do fo-” Our first born’s heart rate stopped.  We found out in a hospital bed, late at night when my wife had some symptoms we wanted to get checked out.  I knew this kind of thing could happen.  I accepted it and consoled my wife the best I could.  At least I thought I accepted it.  My mind decided it would subtley take that pain from the loss of our little “Greenbean” and stash it away in a pressure cooker until ready to serve.

Days and weeks passed.  I thought I moved beyond the loss, but I found myself in my office, at work, angry for no apparent reason.  I fantasized about throwing my cell phone through my office window.  I confided in one coworker, a doctor, who did his best to say the right things, but maybe those words of comfort kept fueling the fire.  It’s rare that I get angry, so I thought about what it could be and I kept drawing the same conclusion: the miscarriage.

Remember the pressure cooker?  Well that sucker cooked my emotions until well done.  My wife and I laid in bed a couple nights later and I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.  I opened up.  It felt good to discuss our loss together and figure out if the miscarriage was the root cause of my emotional upheaval.  She dealt with it more openly than I did, so she did most of the listening and helped me rationalize my feelings.  Then we put on some music.

Be prepared to cry.  Especially when a song like, “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver starts playing off your playlist because you had it on shuffle.  Then you recall that John Denver died and your first born also died.  The cry will come, you can’t stop it, but you will be better off.  Crying relieves the pressure and helps you cope.  This may be obvious to you, or maybe you’re the type of guy that refuses to cry because that’s what pussies do, but it is the best way to heal in my opinion.  Give in and let it out, then let time take over.

TV and movies usually paint a perfect picture of pregnancy.  The main character gets pregnant and 9 times out of 10 they go on to have a healthy baby with no complications.  As grim as this sounds, even if your perfect healthy wife gets pregnant for the first time, temper your expectations.  Miscarriage is more common than romantic comedies, dramas and sitcoms let on.

We lost 2, and number 2 hurt as well, but by keeping my excitment under control, my pain was much easier to handle.

So keep it together, manage your expectations and when your wife successfully gives birth to a  healthy baby girl (or boy), your heart will soar.  Now prep for lack of sleep…




3 thoughts on “Mr. Miscarriage…”

    1. I’m glad you haven’t experienced it. You never believe it will happen to you, and so rarely do people hear about it. It’s so much more common than we would think and so many suffer in silence.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. My mother had many before having my brothers. I have two friends that have gon through it. It’s a tough thing just watching from the outside. I think it’s one in four women that have a miscarriage, if I’m not mistaken. It’s a scary number. It’s pretty hush hush even with such a number but I think more support has started to become availble. I’m happy you had your rainbow baby.

        Liked by 1 person

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