Loss.

The past few days have been full to say the least.

Monday was normal.  Tuesday was very busy but also normal – the last thing of any importance was my wife and I going to the “Y” to the trainer appointment.  Since she was 12 weeks pregnant (give or take) the trainer was showing her some more low-impact things to do and generally running us through a few other things.

Wednesday – things changed.  We had our first major pre-natal appointment.  This was the one where we would hear the heartbeat the first time.   Before we go there, let’s cover recent history.

 We had one pregnancy that was successful – we have a great 2-year old.  The second one terminated naturally around 9 weeks.  My wife was naturally very nervous for this appointment and I was a bit tense too.  However, no one thinks something bad could really happen twice – the odds are against it (although surprisingly right in the poker-player range of odds).

During the appointment – no heartbeat.  So they did an ultrasound with a small, portable ultra-sound.  No definite results.  They moved up to the larger cart-based ultra-sound.  No definite results.

This resulted in the next step, using the “BIG” ultrasound that was effectively the size of a large computer workstation on wheels.  This time we got definitive results – we had to wait to see the doctor to get the official results but we could see it ourselves – an empty sac which should have been filled with a 3″ or so embryo.  We had the same experience before  we know what to look for – and my wife summarized it best by saying “this seems all too familiar”.

The rest is details – pregnancy #3 is over.  My wife is recovering.  But that leads us to how people react to this sort of thing.

If an old person dies – or even someone who is roughly classified as “not young” (including me) at this point – people try to comfort the family with sayings like “At least he/she got to live a full life” or “They got to do many things others don’t” and what not.   And that’s not just a trivial comment – it’s true.  Anyone alive in American (and most modern countries( is living longer, better, and healthier than the majority of  humans throughout history.  We instinctively know those comments have some weight and meaning.  That’s not the case with a miscarriage.  There’s just not a lot you can other than the aforementioned “that sucks, etc” clause.

The problem is threefold.  First, there’s nothing you can really say that isn’t a modified version of “That sucks and we are thinking of you – if you need anything let me know”.  I am not questioning the sincerity of anyone’s comments – they have all been sincere and appreciated.  But you can’t simplify it – you can’t downplay it – it just proverbially is what it is.

Second, if you are single – or if you have never tried to have kids – you can’t really identify with the situation.  You can certainly sympathize – but you can not empathize.  If you are a single female you simply haven’t sat there and felt like crap for 12 weeks (= 84 days = 2016 hours = 7257600 seconds) hoping to it is all worth it and having those dreams crushed by a harsh reality.  If you are a single guy you haven’t experienced any of the major forms of weirdness guys develop with a pregnant wife (I tend towards the sudden over-protectiveness) and then had to deal with it all changing plus your own emotional stake in the process.  You just can’t identify with it.

Third – if you are a guy – you can never really appreciate the woman’s point of view.  You can certainly try – I know I have – but we never have the physical connection with a child that women have during pregnancy and birth.  I’ve had multiple guys tell me that when their children were born they didn’t have the immediate love and closeness that their wife had.  It took some time.

So – no matter how you summarize it – we had a loss.  But we’ve also had a win – and she is two years old and cute as a button.  Her birthday is that week.  We’re concentrating on that and moving forward.  After all – life is measured by how you pick your self up after you get kicked in the teeth by reality.