It is his loss too

When I lost my twins, my husband lost his twins too.  Somehow no one talks about the father during a miscarriage.  My husband dreamt and prayed just as I did for those children.  He loved them as I did.  Just as I pictured our life with them, so did he.  When I lost my babies, so did my husband.  Not only did he suffer the loss as I did, but he had to stand in stoic agony while everyone rallied around me and worried about my body and my mental health.   I do not remember much of those first couple days, but I know I would have never survived without him.  I would still be on that table crying and howling in misery.  He drove us home safely that day all while our world was crashing down around us.  He was the one who answered all the doctors' questions because I couldn't string two words together.  He was the one who dutifully told my boss why I couldn't come in because I couldn't stop the tears long enough to dial the phone.  He somehow managed to care for our daughter without crumpling into a ball of anguish.  While everyone asked "how is she doing?", he bravely answered everyone's concern without ever betraying that his own pain was about to consume him.  I have no idea how he did it and frankly, is still doing it, as our pain is still raw.  I read something utterly foolish that claimed since I was the one who carried the babies that the pain would be worse and that a father will grieve less.  I could not imagine anything farther from the truth.  When we held each other at night sobbing in each other's arms, it was OUR pain, OUR loss.  His pain was compounded by that fact that he needed to put aside his pain, the world around us expected him to.  He could not give into the waves of grief that must have threatened to wash over him every second.  As if caught in a storm, he needed to keep his head above water or we would both drown in the despair that was pulling us down.  I needed a lifeline, so he was.   I needed him to be strong, so he was.  I needed him to act normal, so he did.  I needed him to talk about our loss with me, so he did.  We cried together and I will forever remember that it was only with him that it felt ok to cry.  With anyone else, I felt like a burden, ashamed, embarrassed.  I felt pitied.  Not with him.  He knew the pain that no one else could fathom.  He loved those babies as I did.  He planned his life with them just as I did.  He was going to be the father of twins; excited for the joy and terror that involved.   He wondered what they would look like and how they would be as they grew.  They were just as much a part of him, maybe they even had his blue eyes and love of science.    Yet, no one ever asked "how is he"?   It is not that they didn't care, they just didn't know.  They didn't realize that beneath that face of the man, who is back at work, taking care of his bleeding and broken wife, capably handling everything she is incapable of handling, and appearing to be coping with it all, is a man who just lost his babies.