How men feel about losing a baby

'I COULDN'T TALK about my pain...men aren't built that way'

For years Tim and his wife struggled to have a baby. But he didn't tell a soul about how he really felt, until now...

"On the morning of November 2003 when my wife and I were told that our unborn baby's heart had stopped, I remember two things clearly. The first was being funneled into a drab, cramped waiting area without enough chairs and having to stand for an hour while my wife cried into my shoulder and people around us pretend not to stare.
   The second was wondering hat I would tell the guys at work.
    I knew their reaction could never be the one I wanted. What I wanted was a reflection of how I felt: Angry, confused and with sudden need to protect my wife.
    But there would be no unspoken male bond, no acknowledgement of my position - out there on the sidelines as the other half of the miscarriage. Because men just aren't built that way. And that was my greatest fear: The worst day of my life was going to be met with...nothing.
    So, I did not tell them. I did not tell anyone. I took two days off work, and spent the weekend trying to convince my wife that everything would be all right. Then I went back to work on the Monday and acted as if nothing had happened.
    It wasn't always like this. My wife Sharle and I started trying for a baby in January 2002, and never dreamed we would have problems. But a year later, we were referred to a fertility clinic. We were frusrated but not really concerned, particularly as the specialist assured us there was no reason we couldn't have a baby. But after more months passed with no success, doubts started creeping in.
    Eventually - 18 months later - my wife was given a laparoscopy to take a closer look inside. It was abandoned halfway through when a cyst the size of a grapefruit was found on her left ovary. She had endometriosis.
    The hospital couldn't fit her in to have it removed for another two months - plus they explained the cyst was so large they would have to take out her entire ovary. We'd just halved our chances of getting pregnant.
    All the time the anger was building in me. I was angry at the fertility clinic for failing to spot it; angry at doctors for making Sharle wait; I was even angry at friends who seemed to get pregnant "without really trying".
    One night I even refused to go to dinner with another couple because the woman told Sharle she'd accidentally fallen pregnant after a wild night out.

Further Heartache

I desperately wanted a family. So while I could put on a show for the people I worked with, I found it impossible to do the same in front of Sharle. Her heartache was eating me up.
    But then our luck seemed to change. Weeks after she had her ovary removed, Sharle got pregnant. For three months, we lived out our fantasy. But then, on that morning in November, it ended.
    If the first failed pregnancy was traumatic, the second was worse. It took us another long year of trying. For months we were terrified we would lose the the baby. But then Sharle got morning sickness, and I started to talk about the baby as if it was definitely going to happen.
    But then came the scan when doctor told us they couldn't find a heartbeat...or a baby in Sharle womb.
   Once again, we sat in a waiting area that didn't have enough chairs. Except this time there were no tears, just a stunned silence. Eventually, Sharle said:"I think it might be ectopic". The word didn't mean anything to me. And it never occured to me that they'd have remove her fallopian tube. But three days after we'd gone into hospital hoping to see our baby on an ultrasound, Sharle emerged with no left ovary and no right fallopian tube.
    It was another desperate blow, but the stark reality of the situation seemed to shift things into focus for me. I felt a bizarre sense of relief. we had no choice - we had to try IVF.
    Like every other stage in our struggle to start a family, I had only a vague knowledge of what we were getting into. It felt surreal to be contributing to the birth of my child via five-minute spells in a room full of porn mags. There didn't seem to be a lot of mystery to an IVF birth. They chose the best sperm and best eggs. They fertilised the eggs. They implanted the eggs. To me, all the hard work was being done for us. But then the first round of treatment failed. So did the second. I was hardly able to contain my anger and desperation. This was the lowest point for us.

Surprise Twist

Financially we had nothing left to give. Emotionally we could hardly pick ourselves up off the floor. I could not face work. I could not face friends. I spent days telling Sharle how sorry I was, as if I had her down. She was grieving too - facing the reality that she would never be a mother.
    We gradually started to get our lives back on track, but a big hole remained. I inquired about adopting. But neither of us were ready; Sharle especially.
    But there was one final twist. In October 2005, Sharle told me she was pregnant again. I was stunned. we had given up all hope. Although we had been told by the fertility specialist it might happen naturally, he also painted a pretty bleak picture of our chances.
    Yet, it had happened! We should have been overjoyed, but those first few weeks were terrifying. Every time Sharle felt twinge we would spend the whole night worrying. Every day I would meet her for lunch and ask how she was?
    In January 2006, we passed the 12-week mark for the first time. At 16 weeks we started to talk about the baby as if it was going to happen.
    We were still very cautious. But at 20 weeks the scan revealed a healthy baby. That's when I started to become very emotional. The sight of Sharle's growing stomach seemed to sweep away my self-control.
    So when my daughter was born in July 2006, I just cradled her in my arms and completely broke down. I sat there sobbing in front of everyone.
    I kept thinking it was ridiculous, but I couldn't stop. My tears were a reaction to all the emotion I'd pushed down for four years. All the times I'd tried to remain positive. All the times I'd told Sharle it would happen, without believing it - and all the times I'd dreamed of us sitting in a hospital ward, holding a baby for our own."

Source:Women's Weekly