When people hear about our misfortune, with four pregnancies lost, much of the sympathy goes to me, the female. After all, it is my body, and it is me who experiences the physical loss. In the early stages of pregnancy, it could be so easy to miss with no outward signs of what was once, and is now no more.
The physical, mental and emotional pain of losing a child is all consuming, this we cannot deny. With hormones like a roller coaster, the constant, deep stomach cramps and discomfort, and the loss as all those signs and symptoms that help build anticipation begin to disappear. It is the emptiness that suddenly fills every morsel of your body.
It was only he, who could make me feel complete.
I know my ovulation cycle like I know my own name, I counted down those last two weeks just before my period was due, and I fretted and fussed over when to do that pregnancy test. When we saw those two lines we were both ecstatic, over the moon! Then it was me who would simmer and worry about what could go wrong. Turmoil of thoughts and angst I could never escape.
And yet it was his strength that kept me going, despite everything.
He watched as I worried, he reassured me at my worst. His gentle smile, his warm hands holding mine, it was his intent to keep me calm. He hurt for something he could never experience, yet he was strong and firm when I crumbled with grief. He was the strength, yet beneath it all he held his own pain and loss. A loss of hope, of something he could never see and feel, and it was a sorrow I could never understand. Without words, just a look, I was stronger because of him. Still I knew that he felt his own pain, and his grief was invariable. We both hurt, we both ached, we felt our own versions of shock and helplessness, and still the sadness remained the same.
Through all of this pain and angst, it is he who has been there, experiencing every moment by my side. Let’s hear it for our men!
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