Of Men and Miscarriage

The first miscarriage occurred in December, shortly before my wife’s birthday. The second miscarriage happened in May 2011, at the start of Memorial Day weekend, and lasted a long 72 hours till Monday.

As a culture, we don’t talk much about miscarriages.

There is the sense that because there was never a baby to hold that there is nothing to grieve. So when the second miscarriage happened, and we started dealing with the psychological ramifications of losing two pregnancies, we didn’t have anywhere to go.

Some close friends and family helped afterward, people who suffered their own miscarriages and knew it was difficult. But mostly, we were on our own.

My wife, Lisa, cried a lot.

Me? Normally, I cry all the time. Episodes of Parenthood, the sight of my family enjoying themselves, thinking about my wedding day, I could go on and on about the sentiments that can set me off. I’m not John Boehner. I hold it together in front of company and anticipate that if called upon during a Senate proceeding I will be able to refrain from weeping all over the microphone and the text of my prepared remarks. But in private, when it comes to tears, I am lavish and spend them freely. And yet, in response to miscarriage, I couldn’t muster up a single, salty drop.

See the rest here.