Aaron Gouveia - Men and Miscarriage: A Dads Guide to Grief, Relationships, and Healing After Loss

Copyright 2021 by Aaron & MJ Gouveia

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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Gouveia, Aaron, author. | Gouveia, MJ, author.

Title: Men and miscarriage : a dads guide to grief, relationships, and healing after loss / Aaron & MJ Gouveia.

Description: New York, NY : Skyhorse Publishing, [2021] | Includes bibliographical references and index. |

Identifiers: LCCN 2021016166 (print) | LCCN 2021016167 (ebook) | ISBN 9781510763609 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781510763616 (ebook)

Subjects: LCSH: Miscarriage--Psychological aspects. | Father and child. | Grief.

Classification: LCC RG648 .G68 2021 (print) | LCC RG648 (ebook) | DDC 618.3/9--dc23

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021016166

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2021016167

Cover design by Daniel Brount

Jacket photograph Getty Images

Print ISBN: 978-1-5107-6360-9

Ebook ISBN: 978-1-5107-6361-6

Printed in the United States of America

For our unborn Alexandra.

Contents

Introduction

T HERES A PRETTY SIMPLE EXPLANATION AS TO WHY NO ONE hears much about how men are impacted by miscarriage, infertility, and pregnancy loss. Its because hardly anyone has ever bothered to ask them about it. This book sets out to change that because the answers are not only crucial for men, but also for society as a whole.

Going through infertility and pregnancy loss means becoming a member of a club you never wanted to join.

The very first time my wife, MJ, told me I was going to be a dad was in late 2006. Id had a bad day at work and MJ was late to meet me at the restaurant for dinner. Not being on time is a major pet peeve and instantly puts me in a horrendous mood, yet as I snarkily shot not-so-thinly-veiled barbs her way as we waited for our menus, she seemed unfazed. Amused, evenwhich only served to ratchet up my annoyance even further.

You know, being late isnt always bad, she said, coyly.

A smarter twenty-seven-year-old man who was newly married and actively trying for a baby wouldve picked up the innuendo, but alas, I was not that man. Instead, I launched into a diatribe about the importance of punctuality and how being on time means being respectful of other people. As I blabbered on, I saw the playfulness fade from her eyes which had begun to roll all the way into the back of her head as her lovingly constructed plan fell to pieces.

Youre not listening! Being late isnt always bad. Late! Get it?

But I didnt get it.

Im pregnant, you moron! And with that she slapped a gift bag down on the table between us. I didnt open it right away because my entire being was trapped under the weight of the news she had just delivered. The silence lingered for what seemed like an eternity as I eventually rediscovered my fingers and slowly reached toward the bag to find the tiniest Boston Red Sox and New England Patriots jerseys I had ever seen in my life. With raised eyebrows and wide eyes, I shot her a look that silently screamed Really? and she nodded her head with a smirk.

I bolted up from my chair and shouted, Hey everybody, Im gonna be a dad! A total clich, but I gave not a single shit as I screamed so loud the guy next to me dropped his soup spoon. With tears spilling from my eyes, I got down on my knees in the middle of the restaurant and hugged my wife, then put my face right to her belly and whispered, I already love you so much. I cant wait to be your dad and Ill always take care of you.

As well-intentioned as that promise was, it was a lie.

A week or so later I fielded a phone call from my sobbing wife in her work bathroom as she stared into the bowl at something she couldnt readily identify but still knew was very bad. One doctor visit later our worst fears were confirmed and just like that we were no longer expecting. Poof, gone in an instant. A future of endless possibilities replaced simply by an abrupt end.

It happened just before I headed out on a road trip with my dad and a couple of buddies to spend fifteen hours in the car traveling to Indiana to watch our beloved New England Patriots play in the AFC Championship game against Peyton Manning and the Indianapolis Colts. I had been so looking forward to that trip because we had just told my parents they were going to have their first grandchild and my dad was so excited at the news. Excited is an understatement, actually, he was damn near over the moon. A huge part of that is because it meant carrying on the ridiculously over-the-top Patriots fandom that runs through my family for another generation. We are a superstitious sports family and I remember thinking that with all the good juju new life brings, our team just had to win this game and continue on to the Super Bowl.

But suddenly all that joy was goneliterally flushed down the toilet. We had already started planning for this baby despite only being at the eight-week mark. We were thinking of names and picking out colleges and designing nurseries, but now there was just this emptiness. As rapidly as everything had been put into motion, the grinding halt and grim realization of being on a road to nowhere was beyond jarring. I no longer wanted to go on my road trip, partly because I didnt want to leave MJ alone, but also because, at that moment, I felt deeply ashamed. I still cant really tell you why or of what, but I can tell you it was an inordinately heavy guilt and fear. Feeling like something must be wrong with my DNA that made the pregnancy not take. Feeling like a jerk for having told our family and friends that we were going to have a baby and now suddenly being a liar. Feeling like less of a man and more of a disappointment at the thought of telling my dad I failed at my only true biological imperative. Feeling like a selfish prick for focusing on my own feelings when clearly this was a time to focus on my wife, whose body was literally housing this drama.

Yes, I ended up going on the trip at the urging of my wife. No, I didnt tell anyone immediately because I just couldnt bring myself to do it. Yes, it absolutely was terrible juju as the Patriots lost by blowing an eighteen-point halftime lead. Yet as horrible as I felt, I had no idea how the ensuing and unexpected long-term fallout would take an emotional toll, impact our marriage, and chip away at my mental health.

Fast forward to today and we have three healthy children, for which Im immeasurably grateful. But MJ was pregnant a total of eight times and lost five pregnancies to get here. Eight pregnancies in nine years after overcoming my infertility issues, first trimester losses, a gut-wrenching second trimester abortion (much more on this later), and a round of IVF in which the sole viable egg mercifully took.