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
-
This entry is filed under personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You may leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed. Please read the Terms of Service before leaving a response.
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.