It's Michael again. I wrote this back in September. It came from a desire to help someone in a way that I wished someone would help me. I needed to hear from someone in my situation who made it to the other side and could give me hope.
I've met several men with very similar stories who live whole, fulfilled lives on the other side of loss. And yet it wasn't enough, it feels like no one can really relate to what I'm feeling.
So I understand that my story, my feelings may not match what you are feeling, have felt, or will feel. But I want to add to what others have or will share so that one day there is enough written about parental loss from the father's perspective that we can all feel seen and understood.
Here's the post:
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I have a word for you men. I’m having trouble finding the best way to say it, so please bear with me.
Marcy and I have been given so many books on grief and loss specific to our situation with Abigail. I believe Marcy has read all of them. I struggle to finish a single one. I want to blame my schedule, I want to blame my fatigue, but the truth is that I’m having a hard time facing my grief.
There are probably several reasons for this, but the one I care about in this moment is that it feels like I am alone as a man through this journey.
All if not most of the books we’ve been given are written by women and are mostly for women. The support groups Marcy has joined seem to be predominantly women. And there seems to be a spoken/unspoken sentiment that while losing a baby affects both parents it mostly affects the mother.
I do not want to discount the connection between a mother and her child. I get that that bond is something I cannot experience, especially while the child is still inside her, but the sentiment and the lack of representation of my pain feels like such a slight.
I hurt too, and yes my pain is different than Marcy’s, but it’s still there.
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What’s my point with all this? What do I have to say to you men? This:
I see you. You may be feeling the same way I do. Your pain may be about something else, but it is still there.
I have a baby girl who is going to die. You may too, or maybe your baby already died, or you want a baby so badly and for whatever reason you don’t have one and it feels like you never will. Or any other reason or issue or pain.
You don’t have to feel alone. There may not be shelves of books or pages of posts on the internet by men in your situation, but you are not alone.
Your pain is real. You don’t have to hide it all the time. There can be spaces and places where you don’t need to be strong for everyone else. Let someone be strong for you.
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What do I want from this? I want you to live your truth, to tell your story, so that on my bad days I can remember I’m not alone too.
I will never be able to empathize with your exact feelings or emotions. I have experienced a miscarriage and a stillbirth delivery a few years later. The situation is very different from your experience and not directly comparable . One common thread is a feeling of grief, hopelessness, and sadness. The pain has never completely gone away - both for the losses of my kids, but the long term impacts that the losses had on Becky and our family. Combined with deaths of many close family members over the last decade, it has felt like joy would never come back at times. At times it has, and we are still here and still going. Things never get easy, but the…
Thank you for sharing, Michael. You are in our prayers. Love, Mark and Mindy