Tuesday, November 19, 2013

Damnit all, anyway...

I was just getting ready to post the exciting news.  They say to wait for 12 weeks before you go around telling everyone that you and your wife are expecting.  I waited for week 14.  Turns out the advice was good. 

The Mrs. lost our second attempt last week.  Neither one of us are taking it exceptionally well.  Especially me, although it took me a while to realize that.  I left the house and went shooting on Saturday when I had absolutely no business going anywhere other than by the side of my wife.  She made mention of it, and I accused her of nagging me or some stupid shit like that. 

Yeah, I’m a f@#$%^ idiot. 

I’ve since pulled my head out of my ass and apologized, but after a bit of introspection, I realized that the entire thing was part of my grieving process and had nothing to do with the fact that I actually wanted to go shooting on Saturday.  One too many Y chromosomes…  I’ve discussed this before, about why I think men withdraw and get angry at grief.  I posted it after my friend and co-worker’s 12 year old died of leukemia in September.  It’s in our nature to get mad, to withdraw, and to go find something to break.  It’s also against everything that our family and wives need us to be in their time of need (at least in this modern world)… 


I wish I were perfect.  I’m doing my best to be a better man and a better husband.  Wifey says she understands.  I think she does.  She at least appreciates the fact that I’m willing to admit when I was wrong.  I just wish I wasn’t wrong so damn often.  


  1. Wandered in here from Borepatch's. I really feel for you, sir. My Lovely Wife and I lost our first pregnancy, just after Christmas of '11. It hurts, and it hurts a heck of a lot more than I ever thought it would, and there is nothing that can be done about it. At least you figured it out sooner, I managed to ruin MLW's birthday and almost hosed Valentine's day as well. Saved it, in time, and I'm now chasing an increasingly mischevious 1 year old around, but you don't forget the one (or, ours were twins) you lost. MLW says they are Danger's little angels, that look after their brother, and thats about the only way to wrap my head around it.

    So hang in, and hang tough. Condolences on your loss.

    1. That hardest part so far has been this morning and last night - the realization that all is not fine and that I am, indeed, hurting, and expressing that in a very selfish way.

      I'm glad that I was able to realize that before I actually did something to really hurt Mrs. Goober.

      But I'm tearing up as I'm writing this because I only just last night allowed myself to understand that I'm really disappointed, and really, really sad about this whole stupid mess.

      My little one is getting close to three now. How times fly. Her Mom is having a lot of trouble being patient with her right now - little one is a precocious almost-three-year old who has her own damn opinions on how every little thing ought to be, and her Mom is just in bad shape to deal with that at the moment.

      So I'm getting the pleasure of being with little one more than usual these days, which is good. Instead of coming home and getting started on some project, I come home and go to little one's room and play dolls with her. Mom needs a break...

  2. Lu and I send you both our love and support.

  3. I am sorry for your loss. My wife and I lost our first attempt about four months ago. I sympathize with your anger and your grief. There are days when nothing is right. My patience for political nonsense was permanently diminished that weak.

    Same to you, Wolfman.

    Now we're working our way up through the anniversaries - weeks, months, etc of learning we might have had a baby. I can't magine going through it a second time.

    1. Oh my... the second time. It loom like a specter over every discussion my wife and I have had to date.

      "We can try again!" Or so we tell ourselves, but right now, that just seems so theoretical, and just asking for Hurt 2.0. My wife mentioned last night that she is thinking it might not even be worth it.

      It's good to know we're not alone. I appreciate you sharing this and dredging up your hurt with the intent to help us understand that we're not treading some new, uncharted territory that humanity has never seen before. Others have been through this, too. Thanks, friend.

    2. As soon as we started telling folks about it, starting with the couples we knew had suffered the same loss, we found that we had other friends who also understood, though we had no idea we had this in common. It felt like we had friends all around who could understand. I'm grateful for that.

  4. So the way this all came about:

    Mrs. Goober went in for her first ultrasound. They could not find a heartbeat. I was out of town on a business trip and got a call from a strong-sounding Mrs. that we’d lost the baby.

    Docs gave her a choice – D&C now and get it over with, or wait to let nature take its course and miscarry naturally.

    It was at this point that some awful jackass who I’d like to throttle while punching him in his stupid face told my wife that a D&C “is the same thing as an abortion.” Supposedly in an attempt, I guess, to explain to her that the procedure was very common and safe.

    How do you explain to someone who is so horribly obtuse that he would say something like this to a grieving mother who wanted nothing more than to have her baby and feel that joy again, that he is an awful jackass?

    She chose nature.

    But the idea of carrying around that dead baby, accompanied by the fact that she was still experiencing morning sickness and all the discomfort of a new pregnancy, with the constant reminder that it was all for not, eventually caught up with her and she chose to go in for the D&C.

    I had a business trip that morning. Again. I understand now why I didn’t cancel it, but at the time I was just telling myself that it wasn’t a big deal. I thought “I’ll drop her off at the docs, drive to the meeting (3 hours away, one way) and be back before her anesthesia wears completely off.

    God, I suck.

    1. Just seeing the word 'abortion' on her discharge sheet made it all worse for my wife. Even if Total Spontaneous Abortion is the clearest possible diagnosis, it turns something bad into something worse. Using that word to the bereaved mother's face is even worse. I fully support throttle-punching that jackass.

  5. Goober, my condolences. My wife miscarried on her first pregnancy, and 22 years later the memories are still clear.

  6. Came over here at the behest of Borepatch.

    All I can add is to say the second (and third, and fourth, and...) don't ever get any better. You get better at handling the grief, but the grief doesn't get less the more times you have it.

    But understanding the stages of grief, and learning how to work around it and through it and with it is an important thing to do.

    My wife and I sought (separately) some grief counselling after our second, and it was time well spent. If you have health insurance, it probably covers at least two or three visits with a counselor (shrink). Try to find one that has experience with grief, and if possible has had a miscarriage herself.

    I will also offer my condolences, as someone who has been where you are.

    I won't say anything trite like "stay strong", but I will say that when the pain of grief hits you and you feel like crying your eyes out, do so at the earliest opportunity. It can help to get the emotions out in the open.