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  • Writer's pictureSteven

From Steven's Perspective - We’ve had a missed miscarriage…wait what?

I don’t normally write on these blogs as I think my wife does a great job as it is, but on this occasion I hope it isn’t too much to squeeze in this perspective.

From my eyes.

This is Steven, for those who may not have caught that, I’m Bernadette’s husband. I blog too but mainly visually on Instagram etc. We recently made the decision to share something very close to us because it has been a really interesting topic within the few weeks after learning of our little bean of love.


There was excitement - not to play it down in any way but we were advised not to go overboard on the sharing of our little bundle of joy until we were a bit more “in the clear”.

But c’mon! I downloaded the baby tracking app as well! Secretly at night or at work I would peep in and read articles/watch videos to learn as much as I could about:

  • babies (cleaning, soothing, carrying, etc)

  • fatherhood (how to be stern but still playful, etc)

  • making sure mummy is also healthy and happy (still married, don’t get it twisted)

  • travel with children (flights, car, etc)

  • even to gauge how much bigger our little one is getting as weeks pass by (we measured by small everyday items like peas, ten cent pieces, grapes, apples, etc)


I committed to becoming fitter for moments where I needed to just be stronger. I watched my wife grow fatigued from waking up and hungry for things she didn’t even finish 2 mouthfuls of. I woke up each time I felt her want to leave the bed even if just to use the bathroom. I called and applauded with each successful attempt to use the toilet during her constipation. Anything that was too low to the ground or seemed like it would increase her heart rate, I tried to be there to pick up, move or do.

My YouTube and Amazon suggestions began to look like an episode of daddy daycare. I carried around a secret that I wanted everyone near me to know - I am going to be the best father I know to be! I watched and re-watched videos/photos we took when we shared the news to our immediate family. There was so much joy.

And then that day came to check in on our little bean. I prepped to leave work and take my meeting from my phone on the way to our end of 1st trimester checkup.

> “Your little one is now the size of a plum” - was the notification I got as soon as I got into my vehicle before we left for the doctor.

This day was literally saved in our calendars with alarms. Counting down the minutes before we can finally share with our friends and extended family!

We waited in the doctor’s room with excitement, preparing to take pics and small video clips for our family and us to recap later. Especially since the first time we were so in the moment, we just took it all in - no time for phones, just listening and looking at our baby’s heartbeat on the monitor through tear-filled eyes.

The doctor came in with full excitement. He knew me by now, this wasn’t our first time meeting. He was happy to see us and us, him. He did his thing and I remember just putting my phone on mute as I was still in a meeting the whole time. A few seconds passed while we looked up at the monitor…I watched the joy slowly leave his masked face to that of confusion and worry. Honestly, I had headphones in my ears because of the meeting but I was completely fixed on his sudden change of expression. He spoke to himself worrying about the progress of development.

At this point, I stood up and quickly calculated that something was not right. I felt my stomach drop a bit and I clenched the side of my leg tightly as he explained to himself what he was expecting to see - it was clear that wasn’t what he was seeing.

It’s weird thinking back on it now - my immediate goal went to getting by the bedside to hold Bernadette’s hand - bracing the news that we had been really hoping to never hear. His condolences echoed in my head as he left the room.

I still recall folding the image from the ultrasound and resting it on the table beside us without looking at it as we consoled each other. We tried to trace our steps over the previous weeks. Our world felt like it just came to a screeching stop for a scary minute.

I held back my tears. As she cried, I didn’t want her to see me cry too. I hugged her closer and explained that we’ll get through it, trying to convince myself of the same.

My mind raced within these 5 minutes:

  • I started to wonder about my wife’s health and if we would now need to make a new appointment to start the procedure to remove the fetus

  • how many more times we’ll have to relive this moment explaining to the people we told about it and watching their faces or hearing the sadness in their voices.

How can I make any of this better? Would a foot massage and a good movie help at least distract and calm her down? How about her favorite snacks? No matter what I thought of, I knew that these weren’t going to work. All I could do was be there. Yes this happened to us and not just her, but to me, this is still physically happening /to and within/ her. *I never felt more helpless.* I never considered just how it affected me as well, I just wanted to know that she’ll be alright. I would handle my emotions in time, but right then I couldn’t lose another.

Guys feel it too. Maybe not in the same way or maybe not shown in the same ways. But it’s happening over here as well, and maybe we should normalize the importance of having strong support systems.

Since that day, we got a lot closer - something I never thought was still possible. She continues to remind me that it happened to both of us. We continue to remind each other that we aren’t finished yet. We still have each other.


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