Robb Zimmerman speaks about being a husband through the grief and confusion of two lost pregnancies.
The accumulation of doubt and triumph resulted in tears of joy when I saw a little flicker on the ultrasound screen. It was immediate and unmistakable. Our baby has a heartbeat and is more than likely going to be born in June.
For reasons beyond my comprehension God has carried me in his hands, so things in my life generally work out. When my wife, Sarah, was pregnant for the first time, I assumed we’d be proud parents last March. When she had spotting and we went in for an ultrasound, I knew we’d be ok. I had assumed it’d be a life changing moment to see my first child’s heartbeat on the screen, but it really wasn’t. It was a matter of fact.
But we lost that baby (miss you, snowpea), and then another (xoxo, blueberry), and it has been very difficult for me to watch the anguish that Sarah has felt so much more acutely than I have.
I have felt grief and sorrow, too, but at no point was my biological function in question. We lost the first to a zombie bite. From a numerical perspective, this will not happen again. But it wasn’t my body that endured 106°F (41.1°C) and flying pig hallucinations. So I could be confident to try again, but that didn’t stop the doubt from creeping in for Sarah. I could mourn later, so I had to help her through it.
The second miscarriage amplified the sorrow, disappointment, fear, doubt, and self-loathing. It didn’t end with a bizarre catastrophe like the first. We had nothing but, “This happens in 30% of pregnancies. This is normal.” That’s great when you’re being rational, but it doesn’t stop her from wondering if she isn’t meant to carry children. That is a difficult concept to face, and I did what I could to carry her through. The beauty of a marriage is that we share everything. Usually we’re sharing joy, but sometimes we share desperate devastation.
I was elated that the lab work showed her third pregnancy is healthy. I trust the lab and cumulative data of millions of women. And I’m the optimist between the two of us. But the morning of our ultrasound it occurred to me that maybe something could go wrong with this pregnancy, too, that maybe the baby wasn’t fine. By the time we went to the doctor that afternoon I was back to optimism. Apparently, though, the doubt we shared had accumulated in my heart. I felt like we were vindicated, like I could just feel some joy for my Sarah, for what she had to think about herself in the last year.
I cried when I saw my baby’s heartbeat because of the certainty, the peace it gave her. I was so relieved for her, so satisfied to see her comforted, at least a little.
Photo credit: Flickr / cwasteson
About Robb Zimmerman
Robb, thanks for sharing this. It brings a perspective as to how the father-to-be feels through these situations. It’s outstanding how you supported your wife through this. I know when my wife first told me she was pregnant, my mind went crazy with what it was going to be like to be a dad. I can’t imagine how it would feel if those dreams were broken. Congrats to you and your wife.
thanks for your words. the dreams weren’t broken, only deferred. it’s all about how you respond, not what comes to pass in your life.
Robb,
I had no idea what you and your wife went through. You never showed me that whenever we played soccer together. You remained calm and collected during the game. Thank you for sharing a slice of your life to us. I learned more about you today and please keep in touch. You’re a good guy.
thanks, man. the first miscarriage was in 2009. sarah was pregnant with henry during the black mamba days, and this past season with team johnny ryall he had already been born. i was cool because life was better than it had been. we have facebook until next season, and i’ll resume being a normal human after the big race in june.
Robb, I really appreciate you writing about this from a man’s point of view. There is a big difference between the way men and women experience pregnancy, necessarily so. Having had two miscarriages and a second-trimester stillbirth (and a beautiful, very alive daughter), as well as working with women who’ve experienced pregnancy loss, I know how the grief can strain a relationship. This is partly due to that difference and partly to the fact that everyone grieves in their own way and it’s easy for miscommunications to occur when emotions are running high. After our first miscarriage my husband was amazed at how many of his friends had lived through one (or more) themselves. It was nice for me to know he had guys to talk to about it all.
Congratulations on what sounds like the birth of your son.
Alana — thanks. yes, our son was born last summer. it is definitely surprising the first time you go through a lost pregnancy how many people have experienced it. and no one talks about it until then.