July 6th 2018 marked 4 years since we miscarried our, would have been, second child. Emotions were high, so I wanted to try and get my thoughts down on paper, so to speak.
Having two children was always the plan. Both my wife and I have one other sibling, as do our parents. So, I guess that family size was engrained on us from an early age. The plan changed somewhat when our first was born. People tell you what parental love feels like but unquestionably you can’t begin to truly understand it until it happens to you. I fell big-style for my Daughter. We seemed to connect almost immediately and have developed such a strong bond in the years since. This came at a price though. As the love for my Daughter grew, my motivation for a second child began to wane. I would casually remark in conversation that I couldn’t imagine transferring and sharing all that love towards a second child. Of course, everyone I spoke to you would tell me it wouldn’t be a problem. I began to believe them.
We found out my wife was pregnant in May of 2014. My Daughter was in her second year and we had been discussing about possibly trying again. I remember that evening vividly. We’d put iBear to bed and I was busy on the PlayStation (Tomb Raider to be exact) when my wife decided to take a pregnancy test. It confirmed our recent suspicions. We were expecting. I reacted completely differently to the first time. Then, I was ecstatic. This time felt different. I felt nervous, a little confused, maybe even conflicted. We were happy, don’t get me wrong, there was never any chance we would have considered anything other than continuing on this path. I think my wife had similar feelings. We would warm up to the idea and ultimately be just as happy as a foursome as we were right now.
Over the next few weeks it began to sink in a little more and we put the initial reaction down to shock. We chatted about what the future may hold. How we would cope with a new twin pushchair? Would we need a bigger car? My mindset was beginning to change. Everything was going to be fine. It was then my Wife started bleeding a little. We were a little worried and arranged doctor visits which ultimately ended up with a scan.
In the week leading up to the scan I was feeling kind of numb I guess. Part of me was worried; part of me was convinced it was just a little hurdle to cross. During the scan I remember it was very quiet. After a few minutes the nurse had finished and turned to my wife and told her calmly that we’d miscarried. I just broke down on the spot. I’ve never felt anything like it. We hugged each other for what seemed like an age. The Nurse was wonderful, giving us the time we needed. I knew at the moment how I really felt. I wanted that child. But I also couldn’t help feeling guilty for thinking at times that I never wanted another. Had my thoughts played the fate card?! I still think of that to this day.
The next 24 hours saw nature take its course and it was a very unpleasant experience for my wife. It hit us both very hard and we took a long time to recover. In some ways we never truly have. We made sure we talked to each other and supported each other as much as possible and that definitely helped. I know we miscarried at an early stage, but I was convinced we were going to have a son. I even had a name I liked – Thomas.
Since then we’ve both talked about trying again but have never managed to actually go for it. We just couldn’t decide if it’s what we really wanted or not. My first nephew has come along, and my wife and I said we’d see how we felt when another baby was brought into the family. Maybe seeing him would help us decide. It didn’t.
As time has gone on we’ve come to the decision that we leave things as they are. But we’ll both always be thinking “what if” for the rest of our lives.
Neil - OneDadsView writes about life as a working Dad to his 5-year-old daughter "iBear". He loves reading, gaming and keeping fit. Twitter: @One_Dads_View