Mourning the Unknown
October 24th, 2007I’ve recently been thrust back in time to when my dad died. I was doing all the work around thinking about the aftermath and how that event changed my life so completely. There isn’t a major decision in my life that hasn’t been touched by my dad dying when he did. Grieving this event and reviewing it is at once a hobby and rich field of heartache. There are memories good and bad, things I can conjecture about and things I wish were different. But he’s gone and I have to be okay with that or else my life will be torture. He’d want me to move forward. Not be a pansy ass.
The last few weeks have been really difficult. We lost the future. We lost a question mark. Part of my man brain won’t accept that it was a life yet, but I’m still sad. I don’t want to belabor the point or wallow in it, because that’s not moving forward.
I remember having a conversation about 10 years ago or so with a friend on a ski lift. I conjectured that most of my friends acted a certain way in life because we were young, but also because most of us hadn’t experienced loss. Loss of a friend, family member or loss of a great job; it didn’t matter. Just loss. I may have been wrong, but I suspect that’s true of most young people. Until one goes through death of some kind life is lived a certain way with a certain approach. After going through a loss, life is lived no less certainly, but every choice and reaction that follows the loss is formed by it in strange and unforeseen ways. It’s as if the loss itself becomes a separate entity. It’s the event and the emotions. I suppose it makes it easier for me to see it like this, but that’s how I’ve been getting through these past days.
I don’t know who our unborn child would have become and I never will. I don’t know if this event deserves the amount of attention I’m giving it. Some of my reticence is because I’m a man and cannot carry a child. I will never know what it is like to miscarry a child from a physical standpoint. Some of my hesitance to share anything is because there are a whole bunch of other people who have miscarried more times and under more painful circumstances. Still, I am sad.
However, there is always tomorrow. There is always the new. I have to think that this happened for some reason or set of reasons that I’ll never understand. I must move forward or else be consumed by a question mark of grief. o
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October 24th, 2007 at 12:48 pm
Thank you (both) for sharing your story. When I was about 3, my mother gave premature birth to my brother, who soon after died. Neither of my parents talked about how this affected them while I was growing up until after my mother died. I then found out how hard it was on her. This was all back in the 70’s, and my mother was raised not to make a big deal about things, too, so this stuff was never discussed. I wish she would have been more open to talking about it.
October 24th, 2007 at 12:51 pm
What a great outlook. I hate when people tell me that things happen for a reason. It never makes me feel better. But, when I give things some space and time and I look back on them, I see that things do really seem to happen for a reason.
Hang in there… it will all work out in the end. =)
October 24th, 2007 at 12:52 pm
I am sure that this will be said a hundred times, but I’ll say it anyway. Thank you for sharing your grief. It is a profound thing to have happen, and your writing about it has helped me to put words to my own similar grief.
October 24th, 2007 at 12:56 pm
The loss of an unborn child is agonizing and heart wrenching for all involved, and I don’t think there is a wrong way to mourn or that you are dwelling on it too much. Although it is a small, sad comfort, all of your Internet acquaintances are mourning with and for you.
October 24th, 2007 at 12:58 pm
My wife went through the same thing a couple of years ago. It was very difficult to deal with and the throughts that go through your mind about what could have been will drive you crazy if you let them. I think that part is a “guy thing” as my wife didn’t go through it nearly as much as I did.
This happened probably about the same time that Heather became pregnant with Leta. We tried again and have an incredible 2 1/2 year old boy. We use dooce.com as our parenting guide.
It will get better. Every once in a while I still think about what could have been with the first pregnancy and then remember that without that miscarriage we wouldn’t have our son who makes our lives incredibly rich.
October 24th, 2007 at 1:06 pm
Please know that so many people are praying for you and Heather and share your sorrow at this point in your lives. Trite advice is all I really have to offer; things will get better.
October 24th, 2007 at 1:11 pm
Thank you for sharing your experience. This is something that sadly occurs quite often, but is seldom spoken about until it touches your own life. Hopefully by sharing this so eloquently, you and Heather can help others who have also dealt with this same question mark of grief.
October 24th, 2007 at 1:13 pm
Jon - you have approached this, and talked about it, more intelligently and with more feeling than most men would ever be able to admit to. It is so horribly sad that this should happen when you’re both so eager to welcome another child into your family. I am so glad that you and Heather have such a close bond, that she doesn’t have to suffer it alone, and neither do you.
I don’t believe there is any ‘happens for a reason’ or ‘big plan’ etc, I just know that life is so incredibly difficult to start in the first place, so many things that can go wrong, that it makes you appreciate just how even more amazingly precious life is when it actually happens. But you already know that - you have Leta. And before long, she will have a brother or sister, I’m sure.
Lots of love, hugs and best wishes from across the pond. And thanks for sharing your experiences, both of you - it helps us all xx
October 24th, 2007 at 1:16 pm
When I told my mom about Heather’s miscarriage she told me my dad was extremely upset when my Mom miscarried after Tim was born.
If he can be a pansy ass at a time like this, I think you can too.
October 24th, 2007 at 1:22 pm
There is a definite, almost palpable gravity to someone who’s experienced that depth of loss. Easily recognizable by anyone else who’s been through similar hardship, there’s a certain sadness lurking just beneath the surface. Or perhaps it’s just a sense of grounding?
October 24th, 2007 at 1:27 pm
You may not have physically endured the miscarriage; but you do endure the emotional miscarriage. It deserves as much attention as you are giving it. You are that little precious angels father and you deserve to grieve him/her as you need. There are bbs’ for women who’ve had miscarriages all over the internet, but not nearly as many for men. Please continue to share your thoughts and feelings as you need, it is important for men to know that they are not alone either. Take time and be patient with yourself. Hugs to all of you!
October 24th, 2007 at 1:54 pm
Honey, you have a right to feel heartbroken. You are one half of a parental unit, the daddy. That’s pretty f’ing important. So grieve, my friend and stop beating on yourself.
October 24th, 2007 at 1:55 pm
You are not a pansy ass. You are human and there is no shame in that.
I agree wholeheartedly with this statement, “Until one goes through death of some kind life is lived a certain way with a certain approach.”
I think that death opens your eyes to the difference between living life to the fullest and living only for yourself.
October 24th, 2007 at 2:03 pm
Dude… if it is pansy for you to grieve this loss then I am a total fucking pussy because I nearly cry every time I think about you guys.
October 24th, 2007 at 2:26 pm
I agree with Pete. Often the more pansy-ass thing to do is put on your “man-face” and act like everything’s Okay all the time. Most guys I know who do that are the most emotionally stunted people ever.
It’s more than okay to grieve, and be pissed off. Even though we’re all strangers here on the Internets, know that we’re all - especially those of us who have been through this ourselves in one way or another - grieving with you.
October 24th, 2007 at 2:30 pm
Don’t let anyone belittle your grief. You are right when you say that others have lost much more, sometimes in horrific situations, but you and Heather deserve your time to be sad, time to reconcile what has happened to both of you. You might even find in the coming days that you’re angry for no good reason, or ‘touchy’. Ride it out with one another. And try again.
October 24th, 2007 at 2:42 pm
two miscarriages resulting in divorce,….sudden death of my father, the greatest man I have ever known, …..prolonged painful death of my mother(10/08)….and people tell me that I will get “over it”…and things will get back to “normal”.
That’s just not true.
I will get used to it and it will be replaced by a new normal.
That is all I have control over. Those two I can handle.
But I doubt I will get “over it” and the old normal now seems lacking.
I hope your new normal turns out ok.
bb
October 24th, 2007 at 2:45 pm
We all may be strangers to one another, but we’re still woven together with threads of things familiar - love, laughter, sadness, sorrow - all the emotions that make us human. Thanks for speaking from your heart and for sharing it with all of us. There is no one way to handle grief of this magnitude, and you and Heather will both deal with it and grow from it in very similar and very different ways. But you knew that already.
I hope you all find peace and comfort and are able to move forward through all the emotions you’re experiencing to many more moments of happiness and wonder as you grow together as a family.
We’re all here with you, cheering you on.
October 24th, 2007 at 2:56 pm
Many years ago, a friend of mine lost a baby. It was very painful, and difficult for her to get over. But she told me that what had helped her, was that she believed that our children are chosen for us, and that even if miscarry, that same child, or “soul”, will still be there the next time, wheather through adoption, pregnancy or however they come into our life. I really like that thought and I believe that’s how it is. It’s nothing to do with religion as such, but to me it makes a lot of sense.
Don’t know if it makes any sense to you, but if it does I hope it can help.
October 24th, 2007 at 2:58 pm
This happened to us a while back. It was/is the hardest thing we ever went through as a couple. Even though I believe that is was a child, not just a blastocyte, the grief was unbearable all the same. For me it was not time to retreat, but to embrace a chance for growth through loss. You said “I don’t know who our unborn child would have become and I never will. I don’t know if this event deserves the amount of attention I’m giving it.”
To my mind it only matters that you DO deal with it.
October 24th, 2007 at 3:36 pm
Sorry for your loss. So sad. So very sad.
http://pregnancy.about.com/od/pregnancycalendar/p/week10.htm
October 24th, 2007 at 3:37 pm
Its okay to mourn the question marks in life.
October 24th, 2007 at 3:38 pm
regarding the death of a parent–
i lost my mom last february. she was 60, i was 26, and she’d been dying for almost 3 years. for me there are absolutely two kinds of life- ‘before’ losing her and ‘after’. when she got sick, without ever discussing it with her, i put everything on hold and waited for her to go. in my heart i lived everything for her, made every decision with her in mind (consciously or not). we were living half a world apart and she was part of everything in my life.
losing her was devastating, and trying to relate to my friends became so difficult– how could we bicker about what movie to see when MY MOM IS GONE FOREVER. but after a period of adjusting, of learning how to not have a mother, things are better.
now, i have found that this life can be full and free, and though i mourn daily and have countless wishes and regrets and laments, i find i’m finally able to live my life for me too.
October 24th, 2007 at 4:28 pm
I read your post and cried for you both. I am so so sorry.
Then I read Dooce, and I have never laughed so hard.
A fine metaphor for life, no?
October 24th, 2007 at 6:46 pm
I’m sorry for your loss. It really is as much your loss as it is Heather’s. Let yourself grieve, it’s ok. I’ve been keeping you both in my thoughts.
October 24th, 2007 at 7:04 pm
It deserves the amount of attention you feel the need to give it. To this day I wonder about the four children I didn’t carry to term. I’m thankful and grateful for the two I have of course and don’t think I wallow in it but that doesn’t mean I don’t think about it. The “pain” of it lessens but I can’t help sometimes thinking about “what ifs”. Was one of those pregnancies the girl I never had? Do I romanticize it into this perfect child when maybe we would have had a dreadful relationship in reality? If I’d had those children would my life, and home, not be large enough to care for the young niece and nephew I’m now raising? I lost my dad about two years ago (he was only 67) and both grandmothers died just last year. My best friend committed suicide (something I will never completely recover from) They all changed my world in a way I never could have predicted. Maybe these losses are why your post today was so meaningful to me.
Especially your second paragraph. You reminded me that I’m not alone in some of these feelings even though I often think I am. It’s good to be reminded every once in a while we’re not as alone and as different as we think we are.
You and Heather have the ability to touch so many lives with your honesty and frankness. It is sad. You deserve to be sad. And, as difficult as it might be thanks for sharing your thoughts on loss. Gives others the opportunity to share their stories and feelings of loss too. It’s healing. A small step towards a long journey. Thanks.
October 24th, 2007 at 7:20 pm
Jon, I have to tell you, besides my husband you are the most evolved man I’ve ever “met”. Ladies like the evolved man…yes, they do.
Heather is damn lucky. Bet she knows it too. And so are you. The situation sucks but your relationship sure doesn’t obviously.
Best wishes to y’all. And, as since I first saw your news, my thoughts and prayers. I can’t imagine and I admire your strength.
October 24th, 2007 at 7:34 pm
I just wanted to thank you for this entry. I lost my father when I was 17 (I am 21 now) and I am still trying to come to terms with it. You described everything so perfectly here. Honestly, thank you.
I am so sorry for the loss of your child.
October 24th, 2007 at 7:37 pm
I appreciate so much what you have written and also the kindness, generosity and humanity of the comments posted here today. All our losses are so hard, but we frail imperfect lost humans reach out to try to connect with and comfort each other and it helps. It helps.
October 24th, 2007 at 9:28 pm
I think you are right about the freedom of youth (or my youth) and the lack of loss.
October 24th, 2007 at 10:31 pm
Hi Jon and Heather,
I am so sorry about your loss.
Jon, you are right when you say young people act one way before a true loss such as yours happens and after. I lost my husband at 31. I live my life the way I do now because of that moment. It is like I lost a part of my innocence….and my last bit of feeling immortal…Whether it be a spouse, parent or an unborn child it is still loss and their will still be grief. Do not feel guilty for grieving. We all do it in our own ways.
Thank you for sharing your story.
October 24th, 2007 at 11:05 pm
I’m so sorry for your and Heather’s loss.
October 24th, 2007 at 11:15 pm
I’m sorry for your loss and the incredible grief you both are suffering. There is always someone who has it worse, has been through more suffering. It is difficult to balance being, on the one hand, a person who is empathetic to the plight of others and who puts things into perspective and, on the other hand, giving your own life the attention and respect it deserves. Yes, ok, someone else may have it worse, but it doesn’t make your suffering any less valid. Warmest wishes to you and dooce.
October 24th, 2007 at 11:40 pm
Jon,
I am truly sorry for your and Heather’s loss.
I want to say so much but the main point I want to make is that I am really moved that you are openly talking about this. Not that it would be unexpected from you but generally speaking, men don’t grieve publicly. I am in awe and I wish there were more husbands as wonderful and supportive as you.
If I send you mine, do you think you could fix him and send him back? Maybe offer classes? No? Ah well…
October 25th, 2007 at 2:46 am
I am sorry, Jon and Heather. It’s good that you think about it and talk about it, and don’t just pretend it never happened. I am not saying the pain will go away, but in time, it wont hurt as much. And I know a new baby will not make you forget the baby you lost, but for me, it made me appreciate my second daughter much more, and it helped me accept and live with the fact that I lost a baby before her.
October 25th, 2007 at 6:36 am
Gotta love a man who’s a “pansy ass”. If only all men were evolved enough to express the feelings you have here.
What you said about losing your future. That’s exactly how I felt when I got divorced. In one fell swoop my entire future…..gone…WTF?!
The minute you discover you are having a child, you begin to build a future in your mind, to lose that is difficult to deal with but it seems you are working through it in a healthy manner.
While I have often found that when I get far enough down the road, I can look back and see that something happened for a reason, I don’t think that applies in the case of miscarriage, or any tragic sudden death. There is no reason for it, it is just a sad part of life. In the case of miscarriage, it is often nature at work, survival of the fittest and all that.
This baby you lost will always reside in your mind and in time the loss won’t hurt as much.
October 25th, 2007 at 7:36 am
I believe you are right, in everything you wrote.
I lost an beloved Aunt, my Godmother and a close friend within a few short months this year .. and you are right, this changes the way I think, it changes everything. Oh to be young and naive and pure (it has it’s drawbacks too).
To go back, and wonder the what if’s .. it just is too difficult for me (with regards to who both of the little people I was carrying would be today), and I suspect over time, you will both realize this too. I don’t however, think you can put a time limit on grief. Take your time you guys, there is definately no easy ‘fix’ and no easy answer for your questions.
I hope you both hold each other alot in the next while, and snuggle up with your sweet Leta (and Chuck!). Focus on what is important in your day-to-day life.
Sending warm hugs!
October 25th, 2007 at 7:42 am
Loss grows you up….
and you are right to spend time on this loss, it is big and it really doesn’t matter if someone can trump all your losses or that you weren’t the one who physically lost… it still hurts.
October 25th, 2007 at 7:49 am
There is no shame in grieving… it is what every loss entails, what every loss deserves. It’s not being a pansy ass, it’s being human.
You said: I don’t know who our unborn child would have become and I never will.
I think that explains it perfectly, the most painful part of it all is probably the fact that you just never got to know this little life that you created with your wife. For every child there are high expectations, and for this one, they will never be reached.
Remember this is not your last hope, and I’m sure there will be another child in your future. Best.
October 25th, 2007 at 8:38 am
We just lost my dad last month - he was 65. I have read and gotten something from your posts on your dad’s death many times. I’ve tried a couple of times to express how sorry I am for you, this loss is just that - a loss. That’s all I seem to be able to say.
Keeping you in my thoughts as you guys work through this.
October 25th, 2007 at 9:40 am
Jon & Heather,
I read both your blogs daily, but have never commented. Your posts in the last week really have hit home, because I miscarried on the 12th (only 5 weeks but still…). We weren’t planning it and weren’t really ready for a 2nd child, so my husband seems more relieved than grief-stricken. My own emotions, on the other hand, have been all over the place. I’ve questioned all the same things - who would this child have been? and all the other what ifs that go from there - that I will never know. One thing that makes it so hard for me to deal with this is that my husband doesn’t “get it” and doesn’t know how to talk about it with me.
The openness and honesty both you and Heather are sharing with us is exactly what will get you both through this. Talk about everything with each other, all those feelings you are trying to push away, all the questions and doubts. Share the grief, let each other know that you’re not alone in this at all. And then, take a deep breath. You will get through this, and the only way you will do that is by allowing yourself to feel all the emotions that come knocking. It’ll suck, but it’ll get better, one day at a time.
I totally agree about life after loss - I’ve noticed how much my life has changed after every major loss. And while it doesn’t make you feel better to know this, the fact is you become stronger because of loss. You don’t take things for granted, and you hold the ones you do have that much tighter.
So go give Heather and Leta a hug, and maybe some chocolate. I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you that before too long you’ll find peace with this loss and be ready to push forward again.
October 25th, 2007 at 9:45 am
You are such a good, caring husband to have these feelings, acknowledge them, and then express them in this format. Heather is lucky to have you - and you are indeed lucky to have her.
We recently lost my husband’s brother to a gruesome, unexplainable suicide. We tend to the think his doctor overdid the anti-depressants, but we will never know…and the loss leaves us questions that will never be answered. Kinda leaves a hole somewhere inside…one that we assume will leave a permanent scar. But time will heal, and make us stronger for having gone thru this.
I know you will hug Leta a little longer and tighter for a while, and feel even more blessed to have her.
Hang in there - we are thinking of you all.
October 25th, 2007 at 9:49 am
((( more hugs )))
October 25th, 2007 at 10:00 am
You are entitled to your grief, no matter what the circumstances — suffering is contextual.
I’m sorry for your loss.
October 25th, 2007 at 10:29 am
Thank you for sharing this. I could not agree with you more that there is a definite and certain paradigm shift from “life before”, in all of its relative innocence, to “life after” when you lose a member of your immediate family. As Lilinoe said, it becomes very hard to relate to anyone who has not experienced it, if you’re not careful. Having been through a number of pretty profound losses myself in recent years, the only thing I really know is that time heals. Wait and do the work and you’ll eventually feel better. My best to you and your family. ~ss
October 25th, 2007 at 12:33 pm
First, thank you for sharing this with your readers. I am glad that it seems to help you rather than hurt.
I am not a “true-believer” as they say. I have my own personal ideas of divinity and spirituality. I believe in Nature and trust it to do what is best. When things like this happen, I don’t feel better trying to reason it out, or hearing “there’s a reason for everything”. What does help me avoid sinking into the pit of “what if’s” is knowing that Nature takes care of itself. The human body is an amazing work of art governed by rules we can’t even imagine. So I try to trust my body as best I can. Maybe hearing other people’s philosopies about “why things happen” will help you a little.
I agree with your pre- and post- loss idea in terms of maturity. I even think it goes so far as losing a serious relationship. There are levels of experience and maturity that you can’t truly fathom unless you’ve been there.
I wish you and Heather all the love in the world and the time and strength to heal yourselves and continue with your lives as they unfold. - L
October 25th, 2007 at 12:56 pm
I am so sorry for your loss.
October 25th, 2007 at 3:38 pm
I once heard how in Japan they honor these unborn babies, the mizuko (child of water) on certain days. I guess it gives them a reality, a concreteness they otherwise seem to lack for everyone but their mothers, since most of their existence is in the illusions and hopes we have for them. The Japanese believe all children are made of water before they are 10, and so the mizuko remain water like, reenter the current, are reborn some other time.
I am not a spiritual person, but I like this particular story.
I do believe some babies come here for a little while, others for many years. Our job as parents is to be the best parents we can for as long as is required from us. You and Heather are wonderful parents.
Hugs,
Gigi
October 25th, 2007 at 3:47 pm
I love your grace as you write publicly about this terrible and intimate event.
We’ll light a candle for you all tonight here in Boston. A white one, for protection.
October 25th, 2007 at 3:47 pm
Eerything about this post has made me sob. I have lived so much of my faux parenting life vicariously through the two of you, yet the arrival of my own child in July left me in the ICU, and facing a future where I would only know one pregnancy, one birth, one child. There will be no more. and though I am so, so, so grateful every day for every minute I have with my daughter, I can’t stop mourning the future that will not be. You sum it up beautifully in your title and the rawness of your pain here is so appreciated, even if it awakens an ache for me that I pretend isn’t there.
October 25th, 2007 at 7:28 pm
Jon the rawness of this post is really touching. It must be so hard to grieve over something that you never knew, that you can’t say remember the time when and laugh through your tears at the happy stuff. Instead it’s all the awful what might have been’s.
As we all know time will heal but until the day comes when it’s not so bad just cuddle Chuck. Dogs know. Love to you and Heather.
October 26th, 2007 at 12:17 am
Thanks, everybody.
For another take on miscarriage:
http://www.hchamp.com/other/archives/001265.html
Damn. Hugs to the Chawazeks.
October 26th, 2007 at 2:10 am
I recently read a similar post on another blog. It was posted by a grandmother whose daughter-in-law had miscarried. She had already endowed her future grandchild with hopes and dreams. Like you, she had questions about how sad she should be when others had suffered more. I’ll tell you what I told her. It’s your pain and you don’t have to diminish it, qualify it or explain it.
I’m sorry for your loss. I wish for you and your wife a healing that will help you to move forward.
Thank you for an insightful and revealing post.
October 26th, 2007 at 8:13 am
Grief, sadness, is valid. Comparing your pain to others isn’t fair, and I think you know this. Only way through it is *through* it; feeling it.
This is a beautifully written and, as others have said, a heartfelt post.
I wish you and Heather strength and healing.
October 26th, 2007 at 11:32 am
You and Heather are both very strong people.
I appreciate how you both are willing to share what is happening/has happened in your lives, with all of us who read your blogs.
Moving foward can be painful and difficult, sometimes trudging slowly, but progress being made.. I think that’s the key. And you both are making progress whether you know it or not.
And no matter the circumstances of the loss… it’s still painful and yours.. and you have the right to grieve it.
It doesn’t mean anyone elses loss is any less significant.. just that yours is siginificant too… to you.. and to all of us who read about it.
Kate
October 26th, 2007 at 11:34 am
p.s. I lost a baby girl, it’ll be 25 years ago this December.. I still remember the day, the circumstances.. I still at times stop and wonder who she would be today.. why did it happen. I still move forward.. but she was a part of me and so she goes with me.
October 26th, 2007 at 11:36 am
“I must move forward ”
That’s the key to life– plowing forward through the shit and the grief. But it’s also stopping to see the sunsets and the flowers and the friends and family who love us, and to make sure we dance at a moment’s notice, sing loudly along with the radio, and laugh out loud as frequently as possible.
The phrase that carries me through life is from Desiderata– “Surely the universe is unfolding as it should”. Even if we don’t have a blankety-blank clue why.
Southerngirl, who is slowly recovering (mentally and physically) from running her beautiful, new Toyota RAV 4 into the back of a dump truck. (sigh) The only fun thing about THAT adventure was when the policeman who worked the accident walked up to my broken car and said, “I really like your “Stewart-Colbert 08″ bumper sticker. Where can I get one?”
October 26th, 2007 at 8:38 pm
Thank you. My mother just passed away October 3rd from a long battle with Inflammatory Breast Cancer. She was 60 years old. It is amazing how you have put into words what these last few weeks have felt like in making decisions and living my life. It has changed.
Please know you and Heather are in my thoughts everyday.
November 8th, 2007 at 7:50 pm
beautifully expressed. i am so sorry for your loss.
November 12th, 2007 at 9:37 pm
I thought I’d share some myth busters:
There is nothing wrong for feeling sad about a loss. There are no equations to define how much one grieves based on who had it worse than you in the formula. One can grieve and celebrate life’s continous momentum, neither detracts from the other.
How we feel is a reflection of the care we have for the soul that past, not a definition of weakness.
Glad you shared. Hope you don’t judge yourself too hard if grief lingers for a time longer.
~GoGo