A MANS TAKE ON MISCARRIAGE(S)
Feelings after three hard attempts at starting our family.
** I just want to give a small warning for anyone who has experienced or is experiencing any form of fertility struggles, the below may be a triggering.
For those unaware, I am a few weeks away from being a Dad. My wife Zoe is pregnant with our boy, nicknamed “Horse”, who should be arriving in late March. With my focus on helping Zoe at home and getting ready for the big fellas arrival, any two or four-wheeled mission longer than a day trip have been put on ice for a little while as I prepare for my most anticipated adventure yet, Dad life.
Similar to what feels like everyone these days, the fertility journey wasn’t an easy one for Zo and I. It took us a couple of shots, multiple specialists, a ton of energy, cash and worst of all, time, which is a very precious commodity when you’re on this roller coaster. Having been through quite a lot to get here, I’ve got a few thoughts about what its like to be the bloke when your wife, girlfriend or partner goes through a miscarriage.
So if you only follow along for motorcycle and camping stories, or you’re going through your own fertility mishaps at the moment and just C.B.F hearing more about the topic, I totally understand if you want to close this page and I hope you return when I get this newsletter back to normal programming.
This isn’t an article thats is meant to sound like its asking for pity for the men, or to sound like I’m whinging “it was tough for me too you know” because I in no way want or feel that at all. I just want to share some of my feelings and observations that I’ve had as the male half of a couple experiencing unsuccessful pregnancies. I want to let any other bloke or partner out there reading this who is going through the same thing or something similar to know - its fucking hard and you’re not alone.
When we experienced our first miscarriage around three years ago, I had so many of my mates and work pals share that they had also gone through something similar and I was shocked that no one was talking about this more. I really knew nothing about miscarriage. I knew sweet fuck all about all of the fertility realm really, I still probably don’t, but I hated that it wasn’t a topic openly talked about considering it hurts so many people. I think it might fall under the stigma category. Anyway, I just feel like talking about it and sharing, maybe this is me healing.
So back in 2022, Zoe and I decided to partake in a little un-safe sex as Zo had some small concerns about her fertility after many years without a period. She was yet to finish university, we had just bought our first home and we weren’t really one hundred percent ready for kids but we decided to give it a shot. I never really could grasp Zoes concerns with fertility (she was convinced it could take us years to fall pregnant) as I was just a happy-go-lucky dumb boy who knew nothing about pregnancy besides the fact that I should practice safe sex until I was ready to commit to a child. That being said, I have always loved the idea of being a Dad so I was keen to give it a crack and as they say “let some through to the keeper”.
Wouldn’t you know it, first shot and Zoe was pregnant. Looking back now I think the efficiency of our work gave Zoe a much needed sigh of relief knowing she was in fact fertile. It also maybe made me think that she was worrying too much about something that was never a problem because as I said above, dumb boy. We were over the moon but decided to wait until the appropriate time to announce the news.
We went to the local hospital for our first obstetrician appointment around the nine week mark and were instantly crushed by the lack of heart beat found in the fetus. We were told that Zoe had a “missed-miscarriage” which is where the fetus has died (estimated two weeks prior to scan) but her body was still telling her she was pregnant, meaning she was still having all the negative symptoms such as nausea, fatigue and food aversions. Heart break aside, it was a bit of a rip off for my poor Zoga.
The obstetricians bedside manner was far from what we required in the moment and within 10 minutes of walking through the door, we had been delivered life altering bad news, booked in for a “DNC” (Dilation and Curettage - A medical procedure to remove tissue from inside the uterus) and sent on our way to make room for the next patient.
It was at this moment I realised the severity of this whole fertility thing, but I was overwhelmed with emotion in the moments that followed. Trying to console Zoe, It seemed there was nothing I could do or say and the following days were somber to say the least.
I FELT FUCKING USELESS. I had just witnessed my wife’s heart break right in front of me and I could do literally nothing to fix it. Over those nine weeks, I watched her fight through terrible morning sickness every day. She lost sleep, couldn’t exercise or eat and felt like crap 24/7 but continued to work her ass off every day with both work and play.
Nine brutal weeks to be told it was all for nothing. Its so hard to watch your partner suffer physically and emotionally without being able to do anything, its the worst thing in the world. Little did I know that this was only the beginning of these brutal feelings of helpless and uselessness, strap in Walksey your going for a ride that you are not going to enjoy.
Over the next week I did all I could to comfort Zo but you cant really say “its all right, we will try again” because it really isn’t all right. I could come up with no words that made any positive impact to our situation. This baby journey was meant to be OUR project, The Walkers, best friends and husband and wife doing it together…it felt so unfair that physically and hormonally I was perfectly fine. It felt unfair that we didn’t really have any explanations and it totally sucked that I had to take Zoe into hospital for a procedure (where she had a violently bad reaction to the anesthetic just to add salt to the wound) and see her upset and in pain again.
Being the taxi and snack getter was a shit job and I would have done anything to trade places with Zo in that hospital bed. Being there for support is the most important thing you can do, but I couldn’t fix it, I couldn’t stop Zoes pain, I felt fucking useless.
After we let ourselves have a bit of a pity party it was time to get on with it. The positive side was that we could get pregnant easily. Zoe was fertile, I claimed to have the most potent spoof know to man and we sat down to plan out our next move.
My wife is a powerhouse and around this time she had some big plans. She had just finished her degree and was launching her own Psychotherapy practice. She just signed on with NIKE as one of the Aussie trainers, was a big part of the app “28 by Sam Wood” and her first yoga retreat to Sri Lanka was about to go live. I also had a lot big shit going on…well not really…but was keen on supporting Zoe mission, getting overseas a bit and enjoying my work, so we decided to put the baby making on hold for two more years.
Because we were so busy with a great life together, we didn’t really give the miscarriage too much extra thought. We wrote it off as a bit of an unlucky accident and really lapped up our recently acquired status of “DINKWAD’s” - Double Income, No Kids With A Dog. Life was good, really good, so the idea of potentially investigating our miscarriage was furthest from our front of mind, I think we can be excused.
Then one day, out of no where, I was hit with the strangest thing.
I FELT LOSS FOR MY IMAGINED FUTURE. I honestly can recall what made me feel so terrible, if there was a specific trigger in something some one said, but I what I can recall is feeling of extreme loss.
I’d spent nine weeks planning for and imagining life as a Dad, along side Zoe as a new mum. I got excited to tell my parents, my siblings, my friends. I couldn’t wait to tell Nana who has been harassing me for literal years about having a baby. I thought about the life Zo and I were going to provide for this little baby and I really had built an image of myself around the idea of being a dad.
Whilst primarily caring for Zoe, I didn’t realize how much I was actually hurting myself.
The loss hit me in one big wave and I felt grief for the life that I had already pictured. The fact that I’m a bit of a dreamer and I throw 110% into everything didn’t help, I’d let my imagination run wild with parenthood and it came to a screeching halt. I hadn’t processed it properly and I didn’t know how. The focus for most people was on Zoe and how she was going, so my time reflect on this and heal happened sparingly and mostly solo.
Unfortunately my thinking and processing never happened when I was out running, or riding motorbikes with friends, it would hit me when I was stuck on the couch in between my nightshifts, my fatigued brain unable to combat the grief and negativity. It was a dark time for me as I felt a loss for my imagined future.
Two years on almost to the day and Zoe and I felt ready to go. Our plan was a success, Zoe was thriving and it was safe to say I had taken advantage of the time off that the shift-structure of a fire fighter affords me. In sync as always, we knew we were ready to tackle our next attempt at pregnancy.
Mr Super Sperm and Mrs Fertile strike again and Zoe was pregnant first shot, we were again over the moon with how quickly it took on round two. In the two years that had passed, a heap of kids had come into our lives. Our niece Elly had become our best mate and she now had a little sister. My sisters sons filled me with joy every seconds I spent time with them, weeks away at a time for our annual Walker family holidays gave me a couple of crash courses on the highs and lows of “two under two”. A lot of our friends had a baby, were pregnant or were trying and now we were lucky enough to join the “We’re pregnant!” group. We were both very happy.
We had our first scan on Christmas eve on the way to my family’s get together and as we entered our appointment with a new obstetrician (same hospital, different doctor) I thought it was a bit odd that she didn’t acknowledge me one bit. I didn’t give a shit, I was too excited to care. We sat down and she asked Zoe a series of questions and although showing some small signs of having personal skills, it was very clinical. After a few of the usual questions “when was your last period? is this your first pregnancy?” she pointed at me and without facing me and asked “is this the father?”. Is this the father? I was right there? I have a fucking name, how about she ask me.
I FELT TOTALLY UNEQUAL. Excuse my french but this woman was a proper c-u-next-Tuesday. The tone and the body language used when asking “Is this the father?” melted me and I felt myself wither into the hospital chair.
I fully acknowledge that as the bloke, I’m left with zero physical and hormonal altercations after giving Zoe the best five minutes of t-shirt on missionary she’s ever had. The hard work in pregnancy is 99.99% done by the woman, there is no question. But when it comes to taking on such a challenging life stage, something that I wanted so bad, something that WE wanted so bad, it takes a full 100% commitment by both Mum and Dad. I couldn’t believed how belittled she made me feel.
The comment and the following treatment of me really had me question my purpose and role on this whole journey – especially as being a 50/50 partner in parenthood was beginning to form some of my identity. Months spent with Zoe discussing and imagining the plans with our new baby felt like they were torn to bits. Zoe is my entire world, this baby would be as well, if she spent 5 seconds talking to us as a couple she would have learnt that.
For someone in such a position of power, with maybe some ultra-feministic views that I don’t think belong in that obstetrician office, she totally ruined the beginning of my next parental experience. To do that to someone, subconsciously or not, you’ve got to be a total psycho narcissist or a total dumb ass. Feelings of humiliation and even inferiority followed me to our next appointment with this doctor and for something that was meant to be Zoe and my biggest co-lab yet, I felt totally unequal.
Concerningly, Dr Bitch couldn’t find a heart beat during the first scan, but she assured us her ultrasound machine just wasn’t great for such an early stage of a fetus. She later booked us in for December 27th and sent us off to family Christmas with more nerves than we would have liked.
Three days later we came back and were delivered the news we dreaded most. Not only was it confirmed we were having a second miscarriage, but it was another missed miscarriage. So for the second time not only were we dealing with the worst news possible, but Zo had been given two or three weeks of extra pregnancy related illness for nothing. Now is when the alarm bells started to ring.
Side note for full transparency: We received this news the day after I had the annual “Boxing Day Centurion” event that is a tradition with my brother-in-laws. A centurion is when you drink a shot of beer every minute on the minute for 100 minutes, and we don’t stop when the timer finishes. I was not in good shape to receive any form of news no matter good or bad. We landed the emergency appointment half way through my day of drinking and as were earlier assured everything was all good, I naively thought it would be fine and risked it. Worst decision and worst hangover ever.
Fast forward to six weeks post bad news #2 , taking us to five weeks post Zoes second DNC where she again suffered horrible reactions to the anesthetic. She was still experiencing signs and symptoms of pregnancy and had not had her next period cycle yet so she booked a check-up back with the obstetrician.
Guess what, she left half of the fetus tissue/matter inside Zoes uterus. Zoes heart was more broken than her body felt, this would be a further set back in time, which felt like it was racing away from us now. Another DNC surgery, another six week recovery period and the previous six weeks of recovery time wasted. Now I was pissed off because the frustrations at the hospital were seeping into home.
EMOTIONAL DISTANCE BEGINS TO GROW. Whether its a miscarriage or a successful pregnancy (and most likely any other pregnancy related phenomena that I am unaware of), a woman’s body gets smashed, completely poleaxed - which everyone probably knows, but I was learning and getting more familiar with during this time period.
Tied closely with the point where I felt absolutely bloody useless, I began to feel a little distant from Zo. We are a strong and solid couple, married for 5 years, together for years before that and have been best buddies since 2010. But, I definitely felt a little emotional distance growing between us.
The distance came from us both just dealing with what happened differently. Speaking for myself here, I was deeply saddened and also very scared. Taking into account the first miscarriage, we were now two in the hole (pardon the pun) and moved ourselves from the aforementioned group of “those who are pregnant” to “those struggling with fertility” and really, that is a very scary place to be.
Being plagued with guilt made up the rest of the distance from my end. Was it me? Was my sperm warped from the disco-biccies in my 20s? What about crushing my lycra clad junk up against my road bike seat for 200+ kilometers a week in my late 20’s (yes I was a cyclist) or the hours and hours spent straddling a motorbike saddle? Every idiot on Tik-Tok had some reason for how I have fucked this up for us both. Too much caffiene, alcohol, saunas, ice baths, not enough masturbation, too much masturbation, tight jocks, loose jocks, the “experts” fell just short of mentioning just about everything.
Self blaming and sorrowful, it was a horrible time for me. Did I mention I also felt absolutely useless in making Zoe feel as ease? Sometimes were worse than others and I had times where I hated being at home and if I was, I wasn’t often not present. I felt an emotional distance start to grow.
Lucky Zoe and I are stronger than anything and that emotional drift didn’t stand a chance. After hearing all the stories about how stress can affect fertility, we decided to book a holiday to Japan, I wrote the article on our roadtrip but I think I left out the part about the trip meaning to be a wind down for us, a distraction from the reality.
A few weeks before we left we chose to ditch our previous hospital after hearing more stories about the Doctor. Apparently she isn’t just horrible to her patients but her staff too, but the hospital keep her on due to the fact that she has a large Instagram following and that brings in big business. How fucked up is that? She was actually scrolling on her phone when Zo was wheeled in for her first DNC with her, maybe she should have been researching how to do the job she get paid so handsomely to do rather than trawling for likes.
So apparently it is common practice not to diagnose recurrent miscarriage until a woman has had three of them, Three!! No way were we going through this any more than we had to. One thing the Doctor had going for her was that she did actually listen to our concerns and assisted us with all the appropriate investigation and testing, by then we had seen enough and took ourselves to another hospital.
Where we ended up was the Epworth Freemasons in East Melbourne with an obstetrician called Dr Scott Shemer. When you decided to go with one of the best, someone highly recommended by a lot of our friends, things can really pay off. Dr Scott recommended Zoe have a specialised ultrasound for a suspected septum in her uterus and this is where our story starts to take a turn. By taking time to listen to us, to hear Zoe’s story, he was able to put us on the correct path. The scan showed Zo in fact did have a small septum and required a quick procedure to remove it right before we went away.
As we boarded the plane headed for Tokyo, we prayed that when we got home we could progress with starting our family.
DON’T ONE UP ME. You know the worst trait a person can have? being a “one-upper”. You know the type, I bet your even thinking of a specific person right now, I sure am and he’s intolerable. Everything you’ve done or have - they have done it bigger and better, more than you. This person often talks so much shit that you can’t actually believe them any more.
Well people do this with miscarriage too would you believe. If its friends or family or a natural conversation, of course I want to hear about the story and compare it to mine, but if you meet someone going through fertility struggles and you don’t really know them, shut the fuck up about your own unless your asked, let it be about them. What the fuck is wrong with people, “I had five miscarriages but it all worked and now little johnny has 3 brothers and sister and blah blah blah”, cool lady we literally just met you and are having a horrible time - do you think this puts my wife’s mind at ease?Oh god, I couldn’t believe how much this happened over the course of our journey. Some people are tone deaf. Its not something my wife or I really want to hear in this moment, so please don’t one up others on this topic.
Back in Australia after our trip and all things were looking good regarding Zoe’s procedure. We had the green light to start giving it a go and Dr Scott said he looked forward to hearing from us.
As we were getting into it, we started hearing of more and more friends falling pregnant, some even with their second. The pressure started to kick in for me and I was getting nervous. Really nervous.
FILLED WITH ANXIETY AND ENVY. As the new of more close friends and work mates came flooding in, I began to be strangled with nerves. FaceTimes, Social Media Announcements and the group chats lighting up made me feel like I was getting left behind. All my negative thoughts were compounding.
Results from a sperm test of mine came back and it wasn’t the best either. It wasn’t bad, but like all my school reports it referenced that it could be better if I tried harder (again, pun non intended if there is one there). Self blame really began to set in, I hadn’t really cut back on as much coffee as I probably should have. The blame turned to loathing and every “congrats so happy for you guys” message began harder and harder to write.
I even had, let just say, one instance of succumbing to performance pressure. Lets just say the elevator was stuck in the lobby if you get what I mean. I put a lot of pressure on myself for the whole situation and it was NOT fun.
Was I self sabotaging? Was it just not meant to be? One thing I promised myself was that I couldn’t let my thoughts get in the way of being happy for my friends, No matter how much I was filled with anxiety and envy.
Then, finally the day came where Zo told me she was pregnant. She tried to pull off a third sneaky surprise but she couldn’t hide the look of joy on her face. I remember it so clearly as she climbed back into bed one lazy weekend morning. I was so happy but I was not letting myself be fooled a third time. We had to break the nine week mark.
Dr Scott could not have been more amazing with this. Every scan (which was once a week) he would get Zo immediately on the bed and get our baby’s heart beat up on the monitor screen. You could physically feel the mood lighten each time and we would progress with the consultations. He and his team took the most care of Zoe (and I) during the first trimester and I could see why they are so highly recommended. We got well beyond the nine week mark and when the time was right, we could share the news with everyone.
It was a great and incredible feeling, but it took a heap of time to let go of the nerves. Each and everyday, I marvel at Zoe. She is as tough as nails, there is no way I could go through what she is going through. Zoe has amazed me with her strength and her ability to push through whilst still working every day and being committed to her practice, her training and her relationships.
Now as I wait for the final few weeks of our journey to come to an end, my challenge is containing the excitement I have to meet my son. I am so fucking pumped for this next stage of life to begin with Zoe and with us, as a family.
I have a new found respect for pregnancy, its something not to be taken lightly. I have a huge amount of gratitude and happiness for where we are at, the support we have had and for what life is bringing to me. We had our "baby shower” on the weekend and to see so many amazing people in our lives, all that are going to be part of our sons life - my heart is just so full.
One last thing I have learnt is the importance of communication and a sense of humor. Laughing with Zoe (and knowing the right time to do so) surely got us through some tough times.
For the ladies out there - you girls amaze me, we are so lucky to have you as our wives, girlfriends and the mothers of our kids. I am just in awe of everything you go through, the last few years for me have been a crazy learning curve of what it takes to be a mother, even before the baby arrives. I love you Zoe.
For any blokes out there going through a similar journey - keep going. Do not stop, don’t stop looking after your partners and don’t stop taking care of yourself. Hold the standard of your medical care to the highest level and don’t let anyone but the best handle your family. Talk to your family and talk to your friends, you are not alone! If you know anyone going through some of these struggles, just be there for them.
I wish everyone going through this all the best! Watch out me and my Upper Baby Vista, the latest addition to the toy collection.
Love from a soon to be dad,
Walksey.
Also - for fuck sake go to every appointment with your girl. I went to every single appointment with Zoe for all of this and I got to be there for all the bad news, I cant think of anything worse than her being alone in those situations. Celebrate every bit of good news, seeing a heart beat and getting a picture of the baby is always huge.
I saw too many girls waiting solo in the waiting rooms, who cares if its a routine scan with everything going well, no work commitment can ever be more important than being in that room with her if things go south. You’re not getting a medal for not using those sick days.
thank you for writing this, i love how much you love Zoe !! and i'm sorry to hear how much pain this journey has been for you both, and I'm so happy your horsie is nearly here
absolute dream team