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Article from the Editor - “I got the voicemail message of my wife crying about 3 hours after she had left it. I had just come out of a successful meeting and my stomach flipped. I immediately called my wife and she answered in floods of tears. I can cope with just about anything, a stressful meeting, a guy trying to put in
my face in a dark alley but when my wife is upset I can’t think straight.
It’s not macho, so it’s very difficult to talk to anyone or even try and explain my feelings. Who would I confide in... the lads at work, the guys in the footie squad or one of those helpline numbers? Society tells us that we are the cave men, the warriors, and whilst it may sound sexist this is exactly the role I fulfil for my wife. I am the main bread winner, the knight in shining armour and the gun fighter when required. This works for us and we like it. The roles are at the end of the day, for the purposes of this article, irrelevant.
We went to what would have been the 12 week scan. Close family and friends knew “we” were pregnant and this was the day that we were going to go official! As we look at the screen we are told our baby stopped growing at about 7 weeks and was dead. My wife lost it, not surprisingly. I however did the guy thing and supported my wife as she dissolved in front of me. My eyes full of tears, but pig headedly making sure I didn’t breakdown myself right there, I asked the midwife what the next stage would be.
We were asked, very nicely, to go into another private room and someone would come and talk to us. Help yourself to tea and coffee we were told but I have to say I wanted something stronger, a lot stronger. I held my wife, now crying and sobbing silently in my arms and stared around the bleak private room that we were in. They always do those bleak rooms so well in hospitals! Bleak with that odour that you only get in hospitals. I hate those rooms because when ever you are in them, something bad has happened or is about to happen. The last time I was in one was in an A&E department for close friends. That night wasn’t much better but this was my baby. My boy, the next England captain, that Oxford scholar etc. My dreams had gone, well, just been smashed without warning. I was due in a meeting in the office in about an hour. But I wanted to say stick the job, hell, what’s important, but I didn’t. It was only sitting there that I realised that I was useless, not for the first time, in this whole pregnancy thing. I had sat in bed with my wife and most nights went to sleep with my hand on “our” little bump. We had often read the baby magazines together on what our baby was doing. Only too aware that he was still tiny but we knew that at the scan there was a chance that we could see what sex he was going to be. Eyes completely formed looking at the little hands etc. Hey, you get the message. None of that was to be.
The midwife came in and was charming. I asked some questions, don’t ask me to remember them all now but I did ask what we, and that’s the royal we, did next. Now, the reality is quite stark really. My wife was told to wait for I think about a week or 10 days - I don’t recall exactly. The “sack” would then pass out naturally whilst my wife went to the toilet. This may not all be in one go, but over this period. We were then told to come back for a further scan to see what had happened and if nature had not done the necessary then into hospital for the rest of the sack to be “sucked out.”
We left hospital that day and I had to tell my office why I was not attending that meeting. Now, I work in an industry where the money can be good but we don’t talk about our private lives too much. Oh sure, we do the pleasantries better than most, but we really don’t give a damn. You just need to hit targets etc!
I have never known my wife to cry so much. I didn’t think it was possible to cry so much!! Now my wife normally keeps me in check and is not one of those frail little things that gets upset over anything. Seeing her like this threw me completely and I could not actually do anything to help. I made cups of tea and close family were brilliant and rallied round.
I would be asked if I was ok and would get a slap on the back and a firm hug or handshake. All the focus was on my wife, and that was right. Some may think I seem selfish because I too wanted attention. I don’t care about what those people think and it is genuinely right that my wife was fully supported. However my role was to be supporter also and once all the family had gone it was down to us to get on with things. That meant the two of us with a house full of baby gear had to discuss every time my wife went to the toilet if the “sack” had gone. There were bits and pieces but we didn’t know and waited in dread now for the next scan.
My wife was as low as I had seen her. Of course it wasn’t her fault. No, she hadn’t done anything wrong and no, she couldn’t have done anything differently. Could she? God know she asked me enough times and I thought it also. No, I genuinely think she did all she could and I, and our unborn, are lucky that she doesn’t smoke, eats healthily and didn’t drink at all during those short weeks of pregnancy. She probably only has a couple of bottles a year anyway.
Each time I consoled her I said it was just not our time and that it was simply nature’s way of sorting out a potential problem. I said that we had assumed, as people do, that we would just get pregnant when we wanted. We had put it in the diary for that month! We organise everything else in our lives so why should this be any different. My wife had been on the pill for years and perhaps the body just wasn’t ready. Fact is we will never know. My wife was very healthy and I think gave my son the best chance but it just wasn’t to be. Her feelings of guilt and despair were all consuming for a while. Would we be able to have kids ever, was that our best chance over already?To make it worse we returned for our scan and my wife had to have the procedure to remove the rest of the sack. Whilst physically my wife experienced no pain during that procedure mentally it almost broke us. Not as a couple but the strain is so much that I can see how that could happen. The remains of our child were
being removed which meant that they were still inside my wife. As a bloke I can’t imagine anything like how that must feel. As blokes, we never will.
My anger just grew. All my focus was on my wife and so was the focus of those that had known. A few weeks passed and people stopped asking how I was and just asked about my wife. Fair, I guess, as she was still undergoing all the physical torment as well. But what about my feelings? This was what I was thinking. Of course I daren’t breathe a word to anyone. Selfish pig they may have thought but I was
really past caring.
It just ain't the bloke way! Suck it up and get on with it. I’d been back at work for a few weeks now and had a couple of beers with people saying they were sorry etc. Eventually it gets confined to rather like a girlfriend that’s dumped you. The lads rally round, beer the best cure for all male ailments, and then it’s plenty more fish in the sea mentality. Not meant to be, you’ll soon be back in the saddle!! For a fleeting moment I thought I
couldn’t get any lower and you start thinking can I go on? I had let my wife down. What if it was because of me? Was my sperm strong or healthy enough? How would we ever be able to get back in bed and have sex and think about another child? Again I thought would we be able to have one?
The level of anger was a real shock to me. I would drive my car and if I cut someone up, who cared. I’d have loved the opportunity of someone squaring up to me! The intensity of my gym work outs increased and I spent hours on the punch bag. Fortunately I didn’t meet anyone in a dark alley and managed not to hurt or offend
anyone.
My wife’s crying stopped eventually and so did our discussions about it. We will both never forget it! In fact writing this has probably been the most open I have been about my true feelings. My eyes have filled up a few times whilst sitting here. If you read this and it hasn’t happened to you I am pleased for you. Don’t think of me as a wimp but, as I say, I don’t really care what you think. Have a best mate die, or bury your mum and then you may understand my emotion.
If it has happened to you no words can take away the pain you are feeling and perhaps those “stupid” thoughts of ending it all. Don’t!!! There is light at the end of the tunnel and with discussion you will cope. It’s not your fault or your partner’s fault. It is just nature’s way of saying you were not ready. Hang in there because quite genuinely I know how you feel!
The other really annoying part of this is that when it happens to you you are made aware of just how common it is. The numbers are quite staggering particularly in the first 12 weeks. Experts recon that 1 in 6 confirmed pregnancies result in a miscarriage. You can take heart however because most women who have one miscarriage go on to have a healthy pregnancy next time. (www.bbc.co.uk/health)
I now have 2 sons that are just perfect. One is on course for the England captaincy and the other a stand up comedian. They are only 2 and six months but hey it’s good to dream. In time, I hope you can fulfil yours!
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