Today, Pranksters, I bring you a post from a good friend of mine. He’s asked to remain anonymous, but his story, of course, I wanted to share with you, so you can send him some love.

Much Love,

AB

I’ve always known that I had a problem with infertility. One of the advantages of being a boy is that there are particular things that happen when you’re gleefully getting your rocks off, and if they don’t happen, well, then ain’t nobody having a baby. Pretty simple equation, really. There have been a few times in my life where it all came together, the stars were in the right alignment, and everything worked, but those have been few and far between.

You can imagine my surprise when the love of my life came to me last week and told me that she was late. Now, there are a lot of potential explanations for that one. We’d both been under a lot of stress lately, which I know can take its toll. So, I waited patiently until she was definitely running late and decided that it was probably no big deal.

She came to me the next morning and showed me two lines. The first line was obviously there, bold as brass, practically screaming “YEP, YOU PEED ON ME!” The second was fainter, not as clear, but very definitely a line. It ran from the top to the bottom of the window, and got more solid as I watched it. Under ordinary circumstances my first thought would have been, “When on earth did you have time to slip on in on me?” This woman though, she’s never lied to me, never hurt me, never betrayed my trust even on something as simple as how I like my bagels toasted.

I was thrilled beyond words. I actually picked her up off the ground hugging her, and would have swung her around in a circle if we hadn’t been standing in an enclosed space. She made me feel the little bump that was already apparent to the touch, told me about the weird food cravings she’d been starting to have, and finally told me about how her clothes had started fitting a little bit differently the last week. Apparently she’d known a good week before circumstances forced her to pee on something.

In the matter of days, I’d already thought of all the things that were going to have to happen to get us ready to have a baby. The clothes, the room, the extra cash flow, the people we’d have to tell. I knew we were having a girl, somewhere deep in my heart, and I’d already seen the day that I first held her in my arms and stared into her beautiful eyes. Like her mother’s, they’d bore right into me like I was transparent. Like her mother, she’d wrap me around her little finger in four seconds flat. We told a few people who were really excited for us, figured we would tell other people as we saw them.

Five days ago, she had an early-term miscarriage. We talked it through, and we knew that things could have been better timed for us to bring a child into the world. That this was sad, but not devastating. This was better happening now than a few months later, and most definitely it just meant that something was wrong with the pregnancy and the body was taking care of it. I got a text message from a good friend later that day with a picture of a onesie, black with little skull and crossbones all over it. She said she’d picked it up for us because it was awesome. I got the message in public, while running errands, and it was all I could do not to break down and cry in the middle of the store.

Because I know that this was the best way for it to happen, if we were going to have to have a miscarriage. It had barely developed at all, we hadn’t told everyone we knew, we knew we’d have another chance later for another. Because of all that, I knew that it was the best way for this to happen. That doesn’t take away though, that I lost something last week. I lost not just the pregnancy that we were both excited about and happy to have, but also Possibility. Nights spent watching movies curled up on the couch, and days making cupcakes, and even afternoons spent taking care of a child when they’re sick.

All the possibilities of a lifetime, all burned out in an instant, like a matchstick being blown out in the wind. That’s why I finally broke down last night and cried about it. I feel better now than I did yesterday, and I’ll feel even better tomorrow, but the thing I mourn the most is all the things that could have been. I’d had all the love in the world, and I never even got to say so.

So today I’ll tell you. I loved a child that could have been, and I loved it hard. I was born to be a daddy, and I’d have showed this child all the things that are beautiful in this world. Tomorrow, I’ll think about trying again, but today I’m sorry that I never got to tell it so.

Comments = full of the awesome. Like gravy. I can haz an RSS RSS feed .

36 Responses to With All The Love In The World

  • Ms Dreamer says:

    Sending you love, sir. Cause that’s all I have.

  • Amanda says:

    I understand your pain. I had a miscarriage at only about 5-6 weeks. Obviously there isnt much time but I morned the baby I would never meet. I fell in love with that baby and I have a 7 month old daughter who is the joy of my life so don’t give up hope and morn the baby you never met because it does get easier as time goes on.

  • Marie says:

    Can I tell you I how feel about early term miscarriages? (I’ve had one, plus one ectopic, or tubal pregnancy). I feel like sometimes you get that little bundle of cells in there, but they havent been “assigned” yet. (this is in no way a pro-choice/life argument or idea!) I think God has the little one all picked out up there, shows you off, and sometimes, before shoving them down the fun-slide from heaven to earth, a physical hiccup happens. Whoops, THAT isn’t quite right. Let’s wait for the next ride!
    Now, I also think that our babies are waiting up for us. But some ( like my ectopic). I feel like Owen was waiting for the next time around and six months later he was conceived. Just remember how much you wanted that baby at 2 am! Lol!
    I wish you luck, love and many more babies to come, you sound like you will be an excellent father!

  • Coleen says:

    I am also sending love. A loss is a loss, and you have every right to mourn for the lost possibilities. Miscarriage, whether early or late, still hurts. *cheesy internet hugs*

  • JMomma says:

    I’m so so sorry. It sounds like you’re going to be a wonderful father someday. Luck to you and your love in the future.

  • All I gotta say is that sucks. Hard. My heart breaks a bit just reading this. I think that in our culture a lot of the time the emphasis in these situations is on the woman. And rightfully so, in general. She does have to deal with a lot. But there is enough emotional trauma to smother the sun with any sort of miscarriage, for both parents-to-be. On top of it, there can be a sort of cultural pressure to be the so-called emotional rock. To suffer in silence. So thanks for putting your heartbreak out there, for adding a voice to the guys in this world who go through this. I hope writing it out helped.

  • (hugs)

  • Lori says:

    My deepest sympathy for your loss – what a sad ending to a beautiful story. But in truth, it isn’t the ending, only a pause and your story will go on – hopefully with a healthy baby joining your lovely little family as soon as you are ready. I never knew my father but from what I’ve heard you are head and shoulders above him – you will be a marvelous father! Peace and blessings to you. And “cheesy internet hugs” too!

  • robin says:

    Sending love and hugs to you. A loss is a loss no matter when it happens, and I am so sorry you lost your baby.

  • Andrea says:

    So sorry for your loss, but am glad you know to let yourself mourn and will hope again tomorrow.

  • The Mommy says:

    I don’t have anything to offer but a ((HUG)). I don’t know what it’s like but I do know that it sucks. If you are even a mildly religious person, read the book Heaven Is For Real (if not, you could still read it anyway). There are a lot of cliches and platitudes that people offer. Just remember that as stupid as they sound and as much as you might like to punch them in the face for it sometimes it’s all they’ve got. Blessings.

  • Heather says:

    Loss sucks. It sucks a big one. And in some ways, I think baby loss is tougher for guys… like they’re not allowed to be sad because they weren’t the pregnant ones. Total crap, of course. I’m sending hugs and love and hope.

  • Liz says:

    Hugs, and love. You will be a wonderful Father someday. You are too allowed to mourn, to be upset. It gets hard for you, because you are being supportive of the love of your life. You both suffered a loss. Good for you for being a rock. When you hold her, know that she’s holding you too. Yes, real men do cry when it hurts like this.

  • Jana A says:

    Sending so much love to both of you. Thank you for sharing your story. ((hugs))

  • Norma says:

    You are both in my prayers. I wish nothing but the best for you both. God bless! :-)

  • grammargeek says:

    This was beautifully written and heartbreakingly devastating. Please don’t give up hope. It took us three-and-half years, and we had all but given up. You are clearly meant to be a father, so it will happen for you, one way or another.

  • That hole can never be filled, so I ache for you. But know I love you for sharing your story.

  • That was such a beautiful post…

  • Kira says:

    Shit, you made me cry and made my heart hurt for you both. I’m so sorry for your loss.

  • a says:

    So sorry for your loss

  • jenn says:

    I miscarried a baby after being told I had little chance of getting pregnant. I wish you an ending as happy as ours: we have two beautiful boys that I carried full term, and another beautiful girl that we are adopting because we had gotten attached to the idea as we were trying to adjust to what we thought our choices would be.

    Good luck, and hugs!

  • Joules says:

    I’ve been there and I feel your pain. I am so sorry you lost your baby. Love and light to you.

  • katrina says:

    So sorry for your loss. I was told i couldn’t conceive…..yet somehow, i did and i miscarried early. I was devastated. I had my “miracle” and i lost it. But the universe is not as cruel as it often appears to be….within a few years i had 2 beautiful, healthy babies. You and your loved one will be wonderful parents one day.

  • Pete In Az says:

    Dam
    Dam
    Dam
    Dam.

    Life SUCKS sometimes. You know.

  • Marian Allen
    Twitter: MarianAllen
    says:

    I’m sending love to you and your wife. Your future children are lucky to have a Daddy like you, who understands that “you can always have another child” is a STUPID thing to say. Because you can never have THAT child. Bless you for honoring that little soul. The honor you give it is a treasure for you to hold in your heart, along with the love you’ll always have for THAT life that never had a chance to be lived.

    HUGS!

  • I am so sorry for your loss .You wrote this beautifully and I hope it helped you work through it.

  • Jonah Gibson says:

    Sorry for your loss, dude. Sucks to have a lifetime of unmade memories left unmade. Who the hell makes a skull and crossbones onesie? That’s just wrong.

  • Grace says:

    Sending virtual hugs your way.

  • Martha says:

    I’m so sorry. I have something that makes it very difficult to stay pregnant. I found this out AFTER losing my twin boys in the second trimester – that was a banner year for us. Since that time, I’ve had 8-9 early term miscarriages and one beautiful little girl named Zoey. I’m so sorry. I know parenthood again seems impossible right now – believe me, trust me, I know. You will get there. Grieve this loss with all your heart as you are fully entitled to do but know this, you will be a parent again.

  • Sending you much love. This was so very beautiful, it made me cry. Thank you so much for sharing with us Pranksters.

  • Amanda says:

    I’m reading this late…and I’m not sure if he’ll see this. But maybe…

    I am in a relationship with the most compassionate, honest, hard-working, and amazing man I’ve ever known. He makes me a better person just by existing. I can’t wait to make a little person with him. But I’m only 24, and I’m in law school. Now’s not the time. However, a year ago we made our first little dude (like you, I just knew what it’d be). I knew for two days, I didn’t tell him. And then I miscarried at 5 weeks. They told me it was normal and I had to tell him because it didn’t happen the way most early ones do and I needed a D&C. It broke his heart.

    We rationalized that it was for the best. We hadn’t told anyone and we were not prepared for that. He’s a fireman and he’s never home. Neither am I. We are young and broke. But that didn’t make it hurt less. But I promise you’ll heal. Just DONT keep that pain in. He did and I watched him become withdrawn and angry. We didn’t talk, we were always fighting, there was a silent blame I felt. It took a long time to get back to where we were before, and eventually we did. But if he just let that pain wash over him we may have saved a whole year and been able to heal together, and grow together; instead of apart and finding our way back to one another slowly.

    Hang in there, you’ll see your girl one day. Let yourself feel what you need to and heal with your love. Thoughts are with you.

  • Marta says:

    This was devastating. I’m so sorry. My best friend and her husband are going through infertility problems and a failed invitro. I can’t imagine how devastated she and her husband would be if she had a miscarriage. One day, when its meant to be you will be an amazing dad.

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  • Heidi says:

    Pain is pain. I’m so sorry for yours.
    I just wanted to share… that after years of trying to get pregnant, when each day was clouded with sorrow and pain, I now finally understand that all my wishes have come true. They didn’t come true the way I thought they would, but I have 3 beautiful children that I can not imagine living without… truly meant to be. These little souls were meant to be mine and I meant to be their Mama. I would not trade a single day, not a single moment of my pain and sorrow. If I did, I wouldn’t be here with them today. I never ever thought I would come full circle to accepting my infertility, but today I thank grateful for it!
    Please keep seeing your little girl, she is out there and will come to you! Keep seeing her and she’ll come to you.

  • Lynette says:

    Oh man, I have so been there. My first miscarriage was like that; I was a wreck for months. IT does get easier with time; eventually it hurts less.

  • Nancy says:

    I’m sitting at my desk all teary eyed for someone I don’t know and a joy lost. I’m sad not just for you but for all the children that would love to have a father like you and instead are born to the undeserving (my son included). I’m so sorry.

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