After experiencing our own losses and hearing about others and their losses, I have come to the conclusion that as a couple, a loss can either pull parents/spouses closer together or further apart. Luckily, for me the loss of our little Ethan brought my husband and I closer together. We were able to understand each other better than anyone else could. We made a conscious effort to support each other and discuss our feelings. I realize that for other couples it is not so easy. Some find it difficult to express their feelings, others become so depressed they don't recognize the needs of their spouse. Some may hide from their grief, thinking that it shows weakness to cry or complain (this is often the case for many fathers). Sometimes, in the case of miscarriages, father's may not mourn the way mother's do. They haven't bonded with the child, haven't felt the child move, haven't had the chance to see an ultrasound, or hear a heartbeat. Fathers haven't felt the pain or seen the bloody discharge - to them it wasn't "real." I have heard wives complain that their husbands don't understand. Others become frustrated when their husbands don't cry or are able to continue life as if nothing happened. My heart hurts for those who feel that they are alone in their grief... my only advice to such mothers is to calmly communicate your feelings to your husbands. Let them know how it hurts you to think that they do not mourn. Let them know that you love them and are there for them if they feel they need to cry or share their feelings. The loss of a child is difficult enough, don't lose your friend and companion too. And be careful not to point blame, or transfer your frustration to your husband... this could truly damage your marriage.
I found a website that may give you a perspective to a father's grief, which is where I found this poem.
(Click on the title to view the website) I heard quite often "men don’t cry"
though no one ever told me why.
So when I fell and skinned a knee,
no one came by to comfort me.
And when some bully-boy at school
would pull a prank so mean and cruel,
I’d quickly learn to turn and quip,
"It doesn’t hurt," and bite my lip.
So as I grew to reasoned years,
I learned to stifle any tears.
Though "Be a big boy" it began,
quite soon I learned to "Be a man."
And I could play that stoic role
while storm and tempest wracked my
soul.
No pain or setback could there be
could wrest one single tear from me.
Then one long night I stood nearby
and helplessly watched my son die.
And quickly found, to my surprise,
that all that tearless talk was lies.
And still I cry, and have no shame.
I cannot play that "big boy" game.
And openly, without remorse,
I let my sorrow takes its course.
So those of you who can’t abide
a man you’ve seen who’s often cried,
reach out to him with all your heart
as one whose life’s been torn apart.
For men DO cry when they can see
their loss of immortality.
And tears will come in endless
streams when mindless fate destroys their
dreams.
--- Ken Falk
The night I lost Ethan I received an incredible gift from some earthly angels. Volunteers from an organization called "Share Parents" gave me a beautiful box full of treasures: photos of my little baby, molds of his hands and feet, blankets, a tiny outfit, and a teddy bear. These angels gave me more than just a box full of items. They gave me memories I could hold - tangible evidence of Ethan's existence. What a service of love! Share Parents is an organization made up of parents who have experienced losses of their own. Share Parents provides on-going support to bereaved families through monthly meetings and special events in honor of those who have been lost.
