This is written on Sunday Dec 14, but will be delayed posting until Heather gives the OK due to reasons that will become obvious in the reading.
I got to bed at 5:45 am this morning. We just got back from the ER where within a 20 minute stretch we found out that Heather was pregnant, and that she was in the middle of a miscarriage.
We've been trying for a second child for about a year and a half now, so this was a major blow to both Heather and I. I doubt we've fully processed it.
The hardest thing about the whole experience was in the ER the doctors kept referring to the collection as "tissue" that wasn't tissue, that was my child. I'll never know him or her, I didn't know they existed until they were in trouble.
That's hard for me as well. I'm very traditional in that I feel it's my job above all others to protect my family, and there was nothing I could do. I know logically there was something massively wrong with the child and that's why this happened, but in my heart I failed to protect my child, and my wife from the pain associated with this ordeal.
I barely knew this child, and now I never will, and that saddens me to the core.
