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I want to talk about something that doesn't get enough attention. I want to talk about baby loss and awareness, particularly for partners. Earlier this year my wife and I suffered a miscarriage. Go back and read that again. My wife and I suffered a miscarriage, and I did everything I could to help her through it. I put on the strong face. I let her cry on my shoulder. I provided for her and our daughter, and I was the best version of myself that I could be. I did all of that for her... but I fear I didn't do enough for me. Don't take this the wrong way, I don't resent her for anything. I don't feel bad for being a man and doing what had to be done. In a lot of ways, being there for her helped me too, but grief doesn't tend to go away that easily. I did everything I could to help my wife through this, but what I didn't realize was that in my grief, I probably wasn't doing enough. We really should have seen a counselor to help us understand our grief and work through it. Since the tragedy I have been doing a lot of research, particularly online because I live online (it is my occupation). There are absolutely astonishing statistics about miscarriage that I/we didn't know at all. However, those seem to change depending on your source. One statistic that sidelined me was that it could be one in four or one in five pregnancies end in miscarriage, or more commonly represented as a percentage - 25%. While that number alone is staggering, support for partners is still shockingly scarce. Understanding that she feels full emotional and physical aspects of pregnancy loss, partners are not immune to its impact. I read that one in five mothers suffer from long-term symptoms of post-traumatic stress after a miscarriage, one in 12 partners do too. Both parents experience the loss. This experience had me feeling depressed, insecure, scared, worried, and all the things in between. It made me feel like I wasn't good enough, which is what led me to search for some relief. I needed to know how other men deal with this emotional baggage that was/is weighing me down. Surely the answer is to guzzle a gallon of whiskey and sleep it off, right? But it's too big for that. This was my baby. We were picking names even though we didn't know the sex. Now none of those names could be considered for our next baby when and if we're lucky enough for that miracle. I cannot even imagine why someone would choose this kind of loss, but that's another subject entirely. Look, I know you're all expecting me to tell you about all the great resources I found at this point, but the truth is, I didn't. There really is not enough baby loss support for partners. Besides that, the more I read online, the more disconnected from the tragedy I felt. And that wasn't the point at all. I needed to feel it. I needed to be overcome with grief so I could get to work on getting through it. It's a sad admission that I've experienced enough close personal loss in my life to know what I need to do to get through it. However, this was a different kind of loss. It was new, so I needed a sort of compass to help get me on my way. The only problem was that I wasn't finding it online. Sure, there are some good spots to land, like the Miscarriage for Men website established by Chris Whitfield. But if you're like me, you need more. You guys, this is the part that shocked me... One day a couple of weeks ago I was watching TikTok videos on my phone and an idea popped into my head. It was late and the girls were asleep, so I decided to head downstairs to my hideout (that we refer to as the office). When I got to the office, I looked up and down all the book cases for my Bible. I found a Bible, actually about 4, but I couldn't find my Bible. (Some of you will understand.) So I grabbed one and sat at the desk. This idea that popped in my head was that if I just open it and read I will feel relieved. The idea that this Truth will help me didn't seem to be what I was looking for, but I went with it. Besides it was like 10:30 at night, what else did I have going on. I blindly opened the book to Jonah - to the beginning of Jonah. So, I read. Now, Jonah is a good and easy read. We all know the story, and I've read it a dozen times. This was a statement from a pastor friend of mine: "Jonah makes us face the fact that our prejudices and hatred can blind us from what God calls us to do." Well, okay, Bible. So what is it that God is calling me to do? The answer was, of course, to read and to pray. Pray. I'm not as familiar with prayer as I used to be. I could barely remember what it was like to communicate with God. I'll tell you this, as soon as I started it was like talking to an old friend. I talked about everything. Talked about all the feelings I had, about all my worries. I asked for forgiveness, and I asked for guidance. I have prayed almost every day since. That is where I found relief for all the post-traumatic stress. Now I can get through the grief. Ashley and I need to find a church home. This has been a big missing piece in our lives, and I believe we will find one. And I want to thank God for the man who randomly came to our door last night just to tell us that Jesus loves us, and invite us to church. There was no sales pitch or preaching, there was no pushy prayer, there was just a beautiful older man (scraggly and bearded) telling us that Jesus loves us. Telling us that God changed his life and he wanted to invite us to church. My friends, there is something happening. Are you ready?   I'm going to be a father soon. Like, really soon. My wife today is 31 weeks pregnant, and I'm a mess about it. I don't have anything ready. I've gained like 10 lbs since late summer. I'm worried and feeling sick all the time. If I had any hair left to lose it'd be gone. The other fathers in my life (my friends and family) all tell me I'll be alright. I'm sure they know what they're talking about. It just seems like I won't.
So, I'm nervous, sure, but if I'm being really honest, (which apparently I am) what I'm feeling is grief. I miss my dad so much right now. He would know what I'm going through. Not that the other men in my life, especially my step-dad, Steve, don't know what I'm going through. They do, and Steve has been a solid rock for me lately. My dad, though - most of my personality came from him. The things I'm most worried about aren't that the nursery isn't ready, or how the dog going to react to a new baby at home. - WHERE ARE WE GONNA KEEP ALL THE DIAPERS?! - No, the things I'm most worried about are, what if I'm not enough? What can I even teach my little girl? How will I keep her safe? What have I really done with my life? Can we afford this? How can I be sure I'm not screwing this up? I know you'll probably think, "Psshh, you'll be fine. I had blah blah blah and I turned out alright." True enough. And considering that I also had blah blah blah and I turned out alright, this should be expected. What about a baby born in 2019? I think there are far more opportunities for children and parents now than there were thirty years ago. (Which is really exciting, by the way.) I also think there are far more dangers and I'm terrified. So, I don't know what the next ten years looks like for me... I don't even know what this year looks like for me. I have no expectations. And I think that's what I'm most afraid of. Remember that grief I mentioned earlier? It isn't just because I'm missing my dad. Here's the thing... I've been pretty selfish most of my adult life. Until I met Ashley, I pretty much did whatever I wanted. I'd buy anything I wanted, even if I couldn't really afford it, eat and drink whatever I wanted, and stayed up or out late because I wanted to. I didn't have anyone else to care for. I didn't care. I know that isn't unusual for a single guy in his twenties. Marriage pretty much ended that for me, and for the better. But if I'm being honest, (which apparently I am) I'm not ready to put away childish things. I want to eat whatever and drink whatever. I want to stay up late on weekdays playing video games. I want to spend $200 on comic books and collectables. I've been a walking ball of nerves and anger for a few months now, and after a little bit of introspection, I think it's laying heavy on me that I have to give these things up. Sure, you could say that it's not about giving things up, but finding a balance that works in your life. And you'd probably be right. The thing is though, I need to get physically and mentally healthy. Yes, marriage "pretty much" ended these habits, but it didn't stop them completely. I need to put an end to my selfish behavior so I can physically be there for my family; so I can be mentally prepared for my new life. I guess it's common. It's nothing extraordinary that I'm feeling. I'm going to be a father soon. I'm nervous, scared as hell, and totally committed to being the best that I can be. We shared a room when we were kids.
Jumped bed to bed because the floor was lava. We made pillow forts and haunted houses when we had bunk beds. Ghostbusters and Ninja Turtles. Wrestle mania, Brother. We had robots on border wallpaper around the middle of the room. Mom used to yell at us to "GO. TO. SLEEP!" Laughing at stupid jokes and farts. Remember when we’d throw that old football pillow across the room at each other in the dark? Remember the owl that nested in the big tree outside our window? You would get sick sometimes and couldn’t breathe. That was scary. So sometime Mom or Dad would sleep in our room with us. Then, when I was going into 4th grade, you into 3rd, we moved… We got a bigger room! Same color yellow. More room for toys, desks, and whatever. Your army men we tied to plastic bags and pretended they were parachutes. They'd float to the ground from our second story window. Neighborhood kids slept over. Bill, who never went home. We got a big stereo for Christmas that one year. No Doubt, Tragic Kingdom, All-4-One, Buckshot LeFonque. Music filled our souls and every corner of our room. But the street light was always too bright in our window. And there was traffic all night. The sounds and lights of emergency vehicles was scary at first. But to this day, when I need to find a peaceful place in my head, I think about our room and being curled up on my bed; and gazing at the traffic light down the block. The last time we shared a room, I was almost in high school, and you had to leave with Mom. Our room was too big when you were gone. All the space we made for fun things felt cold and useless. My bad dreams came more often. I just wanted things back to normal; when we were kids and our knees had scabs on them. When night-time wasn’t scary because you were there with me. I didn’t want my own room even though at one point I might have said I did. Our house was too empty without our family. Our room wasn't crowded enough. We have always been close. I haven’t had to do anything alone. Ever. You are my best friend. I know it wasn’t always perfect. I know there are things I regret doing or saying. I can’t take any of it back. I hope you don’t resent me in any way, because this, better than anything, is what I remember about growing up. Sharing a room with you.  This was a note I took down while Ashley and I were at Jami's grad party. It's a little mushy, but this is how I think when I'm alone with my thought. I wanted to write it down, because this thought was beautiful and genuine.
I’m currently at a college graduation party for a friend the day before Mother’s Day. In fact, the Maid of Honor for my wedding later this year, and I'm looking around at friends and the older siblings of our friends. They have kids here. Kids who think fart jokes and toilet humor are hilarious. It makes me think of my own nieces and nephews, the little turds... I catch the eye of my beautiful fiancée. I can tell she's soaking it in, and the coolest thing hit me. This woman, the love of my life, will be the mother of my children one day. It isn't something I think about often, because I'm not ready to have kids yet. But sometimes when I see her like this in these moments I realize that she is, by far, the greatest thing in my life. I never could have guessed this is where my life would lead. I'm no saint people, but I am blessed by this lovely woman. As things are winding down I find myself wondering if I've made a good enough impression on some of the folks I didn't know at the party. I can tell that it isn't even a thought in her mind. She's a confident type when surround by familiar faces even though she’s normally shy. I love that about her. She's a family gal, and for that I am humbled. The girl I'm silently watching from across the table will be a great mother to my children. Okay, I know it's been like 2 months since I've written anything, and if you've read this drivel before, then you know that I'm engaged now. Which means I'm busy doing wedding stuff. I don't know, I guess I didn't think I was going to write about more of that, but I feel like maybe putting in a few lines of the exciting stuff. Who knows where it will go. Ashley and I decided who we would like to be in our wedding party. Then, we had a pizza party (because we're 10), and asked them nicely to be part of our big day. Luckily for us nobody declined. That would have been awkward. We both made individual gift boxes for our people. (Yeah, I call them our people.) Ashley put these really neat boxes together with a monogram stencil of the bridesmaids' first initial on each. Next, she added some girly gifts; nail polish, silly flavored chapstick (the kinds that little girls think are rad), a funky pen, a really nice necklace with a silver engraved pendant, and a miniature bottle of pink moscato. Then she wrapped them in bows the same color as the dress she'd like them to wear. I didn't put that much work into it. Plus, we're all dudes. I used cigar boxes and I had a friend from work write their names under the lids in really nice calligraphy. Then I added a small bottle of Crown Royal Regal Apple (because I know the way to a man's heart), a cigar, cutter, long wood matches, and a bow tie to put it all together. The bow ties are the same colors as the girls' dresses. We made them match. They didn't seem to mind. Each of them had a personalized note inside their boxes. It was a fun project for us to work on together; especially knowing it would be something special for our friends. We've booked the church and the reception hall. In my opinion, that was the easy stuff. I think we both walked into the church and felt a tingle that started in our toes, and worked it's way out through our finger tips. We knew right then that it was our place. The reception hall was a bit harder though, because we had the same reaction to one place in particular. The only problem was that it was too small to accommodate the number of guests we anticipate. This is really where my heart broke in the search for our reception hall. I couldn't continue. I didn't want to see any other places. They wouldn't be nearly as cool, and that was the only place I wanted to do it. And that was my final word. But then Ashley stepped in and found a place that will be perfect for us. (Again, boys, she's mine.) We talked my cousin, Kristen Powers, into being our official photographer for the day. I'm thrilled about it, because it will eliminate that awkward wall of unfamiliarity that comes with a stranger taking personal pictures of you. An acquaintance of mine agreed to MC/DJ for us, and I'm hoping a good friend of mine will do the videography for the day. I have a lot of faith in my talented friends and family. I know they will help us have a spectacular day. There's still quite a bit of planning to do, but with friends and family helping out I think we're closer than it seems. I'm actually super excited for the day to come. I honestly never thought ahead to my wedding day before all this. Sure, there were times when I thought about getting married, but this is all real. It's a different sense than just imagining. The biggest difference is that when I have an idea about something that I think would be cool, all I have to do is say it out loud and it becomes a plan instead of an idea. It's a neat process, but I'll tell you this; never again. Good thing I'm marrying Ashley. She's the best part of me. She's my people.   I was just sitting here at my desk after finishing my lunch of a delicious split pea soup, and decided to click the shuffle button on my iTunes playlist titled, "Classical." And well, let me tell ya, I am never unmoved by great music, regardless of genre. It could be because I'm a big soft teddy bear, but I think in this case it's because the suite (Clair de lune) makes me think of my dad. Also, it made me think about my upcoming wedding. I'm going to be very real right now. I just want the wedding to be everything Ashley has ever wanted it to be. I could literally be happy to not make any decisions about it at all, as long as it was everything she wanted. And I genuinely mean that. I know a lot of people would probably think, "that's a cop-out", but it's not. I know I'll have to make some decisions, and hopefully they're great ones for the sake of my fiancée and our guests.
It got me thinking about something I saw just after Christmas that kind of upset me a little. (Basically, I let a troll on the internet get to me.) You see, I proposed to Ashley on Christmas. According to the internet troll on Facebook, that was unoriginal. As a matter of fact, I'll post what I read. (This was not from the person whose page I saw it on. He simply re-posted, and I acted irrationally and unfriended him. Sorry.) "The biggest problem I have with proposing on Christmas is that it's unoriginal. It's just so incredibly lame. Same goes for New Year's Eve. It's just foolish and self-centered to do it on days that should be about family and friends, not your relationship. It's a cliché wrapped in a cliché wrapped in a metaphor for yout sh***y, unoriginal, uninspiring love story that will culminate with you getting down on a knee in the living room, leaving most of the family members in attendance with a look on their face that says, "Look at this f***in' guy."" If you're wondering, yes, I edited the expletives. I wanted to address this though. You can't just throw a blanket over something like this and call it cliché. (Actually you can, but I wanna complain about it, so meh.) I don't agree with anything this fella was saying, and I actually felt a little sorry for him. Here's the thing: I (and by 'I', I mean we) have had an extremely tough year. In 2013 we were all still so numb from Dad's death that we really couldn't enjoy our holidays. I'm thrilled that this year was different. Ashley and I gave the family something to smile about and to look forward to. Sounds to me like we were able to give something special to our family and friends. It wasn't just about us. The other thing is how this dude called it unoriginal and uninspiring. That's great. (I get the idea that this person is really lonely.) See, I'd been planning to propose for about a year. I knew last Christmas that I definitely wanted to marry her, (eat your hearts out boys, she's mine) but the only issue for me was, when? I had a few really cool and totally original ideas, but let's face it, it's all been done before. So, I didn't do something that would have gone viral on YouTube. I didn't fly her all around the world just to ask for her hand at our last destination. I didn't hide secret messages that lead her on a scavenger hunt to find her ring and myself waiting for her to say yes. (And I'm not saying those are bad ideas.) Instead of extravagant, I played Santa at out family Christmas get together. I made sure all the presents were passed out. Then, I got down on a knee and asked the woman I love to be my wife. I did it in front of my family. I wasn't trying to take all the attention. I was trying to give my girlfriend the very best Christmas gift I could. She deserves so much more for all the things she's done for me in the past couple of years. I want her to be my family. Oh, and ask anybody who was there if it was annoying. They'll tell you the truth. All I know is that it was about love, not my relationship. Love for my family, love for my lady, and love for the things to come. And you know what? Ashley thought it was absolutely perfect. #winning.  I probably couldn't count how many times I've said I'm going to do something only to end up running out of steam, or completely abandoning a project. My point is that I don't want this to be one of those. I want to continue to write. I have other writing projects in mind, and running out of steam on this one will derail all the rest. I know, it's easy to think, "so do it.", or "write more often." And I do think like that.
What I can't figure out is if I'm doing it right. I get on here and plug out some of my thoughts that I'm honestly not sure if anyone reads. But is that why I should do it anyway? Is the uncertainty the reason I don't do it as often as I figured I would? Is it something else? Maybe I haven't found my voice yet. Maybe I don't know what I want to say. It's all that and more I think. I did have a reason to write today though. I have to say some things to someone who is very close to me. He's going through a really rough thing right now, and to him it seems so sudden and out of nowhere. I understand that things were going so great in your life. I've been right here with you the whole time. I've also been on the outside of all of this, and bracing for impact. I love you, brother. You never have to hide how you're feeling from me. You don't have to put on your paper mask and pretend. Mostly because I can see right through it. I know this sucks. I actually know that it isn't just the one thing, but that a lot of things are eating away at you now. It was easy to shoulder the small bits while you were floating on clouds, but this is a catalyst for negativity now. Pick yourself up. Look around you. Notice the pieces still left in place. Brush them off good and hold your head high kid, you're doing fine. We talked about it recently, about how great things are going for you. Remember that I told you to remember what it felt like to be down and out. Hopefully you took a moment to think about that. To think about a time when we were so broke a cheese sandwich was a meal. To think about the handful of times neither one of us had reliable transportation and had to rely on the hospitality of others. And to think about what it felt like to suddenly be without a place to sleep at night. Things haven't always been up in the clouds for you man, but looking back you can see they've been much worse. I'm not on here to air your laundry. I haven't mentioned anything too personal. Besides that, anyone who knows you already knows everything about you. You're an open book, my friend. And this small thing that has you twisted up is just an ellipsis at the end of a chapter that is to be continued.  My heart is broken. In the wake of recent tragedy in my life I have realized that I can hear the music in my soul. I hear it out loud and at all times. Sometimes it's so loud it just feels like pressure in my head. Other times it is as quiet as a whisper in the wind. But it's always there. What have I done to have lost the ability to hear this beautiful composition for so long? Was it any of my few questionable life decisions I have made? Was it because I gave up playing music, or writing, or acting, or any of the things I was so enamored of but just quit doing? Or is it because I'm lost on my spiritual path in my walk with God? I'm almost certain it's the latter.
When my dad passed I did the only thing I could do. I prayed. I prayed hard. Some of you can really connect with what it means to pray hard. I haven't prayed like that since I was 16 years old. Some may ask, why then? What good was praying for a man's soul that had already passed? Turns out I wasn't praying for my dad's soul. I was praying for mine. And an internal peace is what was answered. Ask me how I know my prayers were heard. Every time the leaves rustle against my front door I hear the symphony rise, and when I lay down at night the soloist begins my lullaby. My heart is filled with music, my mind is filled with stories and words, and my eyes are filled with brilliant color. I feel creative. I know that Dad only ever wanted me to be happy with what I was creating. He was so very proud of everything any of his kids did. I hope those siblings of mine read this and know, Dad was your #1 fan too. So, have a conversation with God, and listen to the music. |
AuthorI started blogging thinking that this is where I would review whatever media I felt like ranting about. It quickly changed direction. So this is my online diary. Comments are welcome. Archives
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