I think it’s been around a month since we stared at an ultrasound screen and didn’t see a heartbeat. I’m not sure. Time’s been pretty irrelevantly lately, with days blurring into each other, and sleep coming like a black wave because you don’t want to feel any more.

He was less than eight weeks old, but we’re doing this through IVF (keep the laptop off your testicles, guys, I mean it), so we’d been fighting and hoping for a year, and we had a few weeks of joy before it was snuffed out. deli blogged about it weeks ago, but this is the first time I’ve felt the impetus to do so.

The world feels colder now. There are more things with sharp edges. More sights that make me wince. Other people’s happiness is ringed with knives, especially if it’s connected to kids. I want to scream at them, demand that they acknowledge how lucky they are, how absurdly random their good fortune is, demand that they explain why. There are no words.

I won’t say that I’d made any changes in my life because of the pregnancy, but I’d gotten myself into a mental space where I was ready to make those changes. No-one’s ever ready to be a father, I think – not that I have the slightest clue what “father” means – but I was willing to jump in and do my best. I wanted it.

We’ll try again. We’ve got four more frozen embryos. If they don’t work, then we’re still young enough that another round of IVF would still have moderately good chances, as these things go. It still could happen naturally. And if it doesn’t, we’ll adjust to that too.

Even if it does happen again, we won’t forget what we had, for a brief few weeks in March this year.

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9 Comments on ""

  1. epocalypse
    10/05/2011 at 1:17 am Permalink

    My wife, Jane and I lost our third child Maggie at 37 weeks two and a half years ago. Nothing could have prepared us for that but it did make us stronger. Exactly a year later and Alfie arrived, not a replacement for Maggie but it helped. Exactly one year on again and Jane is miscarrying at 10 weeks.

    Fate is fickle and now we are expecting again in August. Stressful? Yes but also marvellous.

    I understand your loss though mine is different from yours in many ways. I hope you both prosper and you are blessed with children. Then you will understand stress.

  2. audrey
    10/05/2011 at 1:27 am Permalink

    You ARE a father. I’m so so sorry you and your wife are going through this. I know it all too well. My gamer husband could probably use a friend who gets it too. I could hook you up with an xbox name if you want.

    Love, infertileturtle

  3. Stephen K
    10/05/2011 at 1:51 am Permalink

    Please accept my deepest sympathies. All I can think to say is in a poem my own father wrote. It’s inadequate, but I hope it can speak to you in some way.

    Dear Parents

    I did not die young
    I lived my span of life,
    Within your body
    And within your love.

    There are many
    Who have lived long lives
    And have not been loved as me.

    If you would honor me
    Then speak my name
    And number me among your family.

    If you would honor me.
    Then strive to live in love
    For in that love, I live.

    Never ever doubt
    That we will meet again.

    Until that happy day,
    I will grow with God
    And wait for you.

  4. Colin McEwan
    10/05/2011 at 3:16 am Permalink

    So very sorry to hear this, Gar.

    (and, yeah, I do know how stunningly lucky I am)

    All the best,


  5. cat
    10/05/2011 at 9:24 am Permalink

    Gar – we went through something similar a while back at 9 weeks – and it doesn’t matter whether it’s 6 weeks, 12 weeks or 32 weeks, losing the thing that you’ve hoped for in your most cherished dreams is soul-numbing. There’s not much anyone can say to make it better in the short term so I’ll just say that our thoughts and hearts are with you and Edel – that we’re praying that two of the most lovely people we know will have the baby they want so very much and we’ll be here to read these very beautiful posts and be quietly on your side.

  6. Tim Gray
    10/05/2011 at 1:38 pm Permalink

    I’m not wise enough to say better than these replies – tearing up at the poem – so I’ll just stand here in the support team.

  7. @IVFchronicles
    10/05/2011 at 4:11 pm Permalink

    Hi – I follow your lovely wife on twitter and have just read your blog. I too went through this pain last year at our six week scan. Your words mirror exactly how I feel. Sometimes you want to scream at people when they don’t realise the miracle they are experiencing. The poem that was posted, is breaking my heart. Much love and support to you both.

  8. Hilary and Ashley
    10/05/2011 at 6:38 pm Permalink

    Really sad news.

    Nothing we can say but our thoughts are with you all.

  9. Ian Sturrock
    11/05/2011 at 9:58 am Permalink

    I so wish I could offer more than my sympathy, and my kind thoughts, so please tell me if there is anything I *can* give, or do, Gar. You guys are lovely, and like Cat I hope you get what you want.

    I will say that I do know how lucky I am, but I rarely dare say so, because I still half-fear, with uncharacteristic superstition, that acknowledging my luck could somehow make it run out.

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