As expectant Fathers, we dream about living every part of the pregnancy, wanting to be included in every movement of the baby, every declaration of the size of fruit that the baby has become and the readiness to drive to the local take away to buy the latest craving of Cheeseburger with a side of egg fried rice with peanut butter on top
Men are fully aware that we haven’t got the bond that comes with carrying our little bundle of joy so we try to be involved wherever we can and compensate for that.
We dream of the first Parents Evening at school, the mosaic of daubed paintings that we will hang across the kitchen wall, unashamedly parading our baby proudly to our friends and families, showing off their new range of vocabulary and top of that list, we dream of Father’s Day.
The day that we get to receive the cards with beautiful words that your partner helped your child write. We will get more than our fair share of cuddles and kisses that day than we would normally expect to get on any other given Sunday. The gift that your child made you at school in which they look at you longingly to unwrap so that they may witness your amazement at their craft skills even though they have been shocking at keeping it a secret that they had made you a cup holder for your toothbrush…
But what happens when it is taken away from you…..
We give ourselves a hard time, we think similar things that feel so individual to us;
Why should we be sad about what we will miss? We didn’t have a bond
‘Man up’ (awful and outdated) – what does it even mean?!
I will just cry on my own, nobody will know
I will grieve after I have made sure my partner is OK
This shouldn’t be so hard, they weren’t born yet
So often when I speak to other men who have suffered this, the same lines come out. You are not alone and never have been. You just didn’t know where to go and that there is help out there.
We are allowed to dream of these things and equally we are allowed to hurt when we have those dreams temporarily put on hold.
My Story
My journey started in the early 2000’s when my wife and I received the news that we had miscarried. There was no sugar coating the news whilst sitting in that very open and less than private ward. It felt like that midwife/nurse had said that same line at least 10 times that morning prior to us.
It didn’t change the fact however that the devastation had hit us.
We were lucky, we had a lot of family and friends that supported us but all through the times when we were mourning, the selfish part of me always wondered why I got the quick ‘pat on the back or hug’ whist everyone, naturally, was making sure my wife was OK, helping to wipe away her tears, holding her hand, giving her massive bear hugs and telling her that everything will be OK.
I had no bond with our baby…that was my conclusion. I didn’t have the right to mourn or be upset, I had to be there for my wife and forget about my pain.
I couldn’t speak to any of my family, after all, I was being selfish, wasn’t I?
So, when the pain became too difficult to keep to myself, I plucked up the courage to speak to The Miscarriage Association and later in 2005 ran the London Marathon for them raising money and awareness in the hope that men would also speak up.
Truth is, I wasn’t being selfish. I was aching inside, I needed support as well and I shouldn’t have been so ashamed to ask for it.
So that is why I am here. I have been through the pain and heartbreak and come out of the other side. I even wrote a semi-autobiographical account of my baby loss named ‘482 Days’ which was published with IVF Babble along with another article named ‘We never want to leave you’
I continue to write articles of my experience and be present for anyone that needs to just talk and be understood.
My two babies are 17 and 13 respectively now. They were ready to come into this world and allow my dreams to become a reality. However, I will never, ever forget the one we lost and I spare a thought for them every Father’s Day.
After all, whether they made this world or not, you were still their parent.
