I am a creature of routine. I wake up at 4:35 AM. I let the dog out. Use the restroom, change for the gym, and then head to the gym. I’m at the gym between 45 minutes and 55 minutes. I return home, bathe, eat breakfast, and head to the train. If the train is punctual, I’ll be in downtown Chicago by 7:30. After walking to the office, I’m at my office by 7:40. I then work until somewhere between 4:15 and 5 and take the train home. Once home, I cook dinner and attend to matters around the house.
Being so habitual, I thought losing a routine would be impossible, but I was wrong.
This past December my wife and I were giddy with the news that we were expecting our first child. It was a delight because not only was it the first grandchild in our respective families, but of what the holidays on the horizon meant. Lots of exchanging of baby gifts and having something to talk about with family other than health issues or obscure relatives.
On Monday, December 12th, I followed my routine. Minutes before my first meeting of the day, I received a text from my wife saying that there probably wasn’t a baby anymore. I panicked. I called her, and she told me that the doctor’s couldn’t find the baby’s heartbeat at the 12 week appointment. I started crying.
I let her attend a doctor’s appointment unaccompanied as I had a call with a client at the same time who was notoriously difficult to schedule with. I started crying. I’m in a one person conference room and trying to compose myself before I lead the meeting for the next 90 minutes. I poke out from the conference room to grab a box of kleenex. I tell the client I have a cold. I’m short with them on the phone. When it’s done, I grab an Uber home to be with my wife.
A miscarriage caused me to lose my routine.
On Tuesday we have a D&C. It’s possibly the longest day of my life. In the pre-op area, I’m distracted by work, but I can’t ignore the fact I’m in a hospital for over 10 hours. My wife is strong but sad and depleted. When we get home, we collapse into one another. We feel so empty.
My routine goes to pot on Wednesday. The previous night I went to bed at a normal time. Wednesday I woke up at 8. Thursday is the same. Friday too. After I’d wake up, I couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed. I barely worked and I barely bathed either. In one of the few hours I worked that week, on a phone call a coworker asked where I was and I painfully told him what happened while struggling to contain the tears. He sympathized and expressed condolences. Two weeks later I told my peer reviewer what happened and I break down and start sobbing in a coffee shop.
Marriages are not easy. This was the most difficult thing we have ever dealt with.
Miscarriages are hard, and a missed miscarriage is harder. Words don’t do justice to how shitty they really are. I found solace in talking to coworkers who confided in me about their experiences. My parents told me that they had a miscarriage – something previously undisclosed. We need to be more real and open with each other. The topic shouldn’t be taboo.
I don’t recall when I got my routine back and that doesn’t matter. I needed to heal both emotionally and physically. Sleep may have been one way, but grieving manifests itself in numerous ways. Not being in a routine caused me to cope on my own terms. I really don’t remember anything about the week other than the cloud of sadness that hangs over it in my memory.
I’m not sure the wounds will ever heal. There’s a lot of emotional scars that linger. Since the miscarriage, I’m happy to say we are expecting our first child – due later this year. It hasn’t been an easy pregnancy. In addition to being high risk for most of the first trimester, doubts about the baby’s well-being, which manifest from losing the first baby, weigh down both my wife and I. My wife had to lose her routine once again to be on temporary rest.
My routine is going to change again when the baby is born. Like a general preparing for battle, I’m already envisioning what strategic changes I’m going to have to make. It may not be easy, but being a father is the routine I’m ready for. I was ready for it in December but was devastated to have it taken away from my wife and I. In the time since, we’ve healed and recuperated. When the baby is born, I can’t wait to lose this routine and replace it with my new “dad routine.”