Her eyes told me all I needed to know, no words were needed. We’ve been here before and I know what comes next, doesn’t make it any easier of course.
The thing that every parent-to-be knows is a risk but never expects to happen to them has happened. The thing that you soon realise has actually happened to most parents but is never talked about. A name never spoken unless in hushed tones.
But we should talk about it. Miscarriage is a bastard with a capital B. The darkest of days as a parent. Where once there was hope, expectation and excitement there is now nothing. A gaping hole where you expected your son or daughter to be but you’ll never know what they were like.
But it feels surreal, 3 weeks is only just enough time to start getting used to the idea of being a dad again, I don’t have that physical bond that the lady of the manor feels. I want to feel the loss and attachment, but it has to mostly come through her grieving and pain. If I can take the burden for some of that pain then I will in an instance of course but otherwise I feel a little lost.
You may have only been a few weeks old my teeny tiny boy (for the lady of the manor assures me you were a boy) but you were still ours and we shall live our lives wondering what might have been.