The Club Nobody Wants to be a Part Of

Content Warning: This post contains discussions of miscarriage and early loss. Due to its heavy content we suggest you take breaks when necessary, and check in with yourself. 

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Post written by James Matthews

We were going to name her Ruby. I honestly don’t really know why, I think we just liked the name. I do know that it was only a few weeks into our pregnancy but we were capital c Convinced that we were going to have a girl. 

I was at an out-of-town bachelor party when Katie found out. She nailed the rom-com style announcement perfectly, waiting until I got home and gave me a newborn-sized version of a bucket hat I owned (it took me longer than I would like to admit to notice that it wasn’t actually for me).

Perhaps that was because it took us longer than we would’ve liked to get here. I was one of those people who thought it would happen in the snap of a finger, on the first try. But, here we were, years in at the time and a whisker away from trying fertility treatments. 

Not long after that we found out that Ruby would not make it into this world. Katie and I navigated early pregnancy loss as best we could—we were lucky to have friends and family who cared for us in their own sweet ways. But that time is punctuated in my brain as a self care gauntlet: a blur of tears, a lot of baking and really long walks. 

It was spring, which made the long walks lovely but dangerous for my hayfever-riddled-ass. This meant the routine call to a doctor to stock up on antihistamines. Making small talk my doctor asked how I was doing, and I explained that I had definitely been better because Katie and I recently had a miscarriage. He offered “medical advice” of needing to “relax more to make it happen” and I remember thinking that was very bad advice. 

That was before a perfectly timed vacation. Katie and I took advantage of an airline’s seat sale months prior and we got to do our long walks in Tokyo and got to eat things we didn’t have to make ourselves. In stark contrast to what Anthony Bourdain felt the first time he touched down in Tokyo, I felt the most relaxed I had in ages. 

Back in Canada, I was off to another out-of-town bachelor party (tell me you’re in your early 30s without telling me you’re in your early 30s). Meanwhile, Katie found out she was pregnant again and waited patiently for me to return. I remember bursting into a giddy, disbelieving laugh—we hadn’t expected it to happen again so soon. Turns out, my doctor’s advice was spot on after all.

Now, here is where I would love to tell you that it was just nine months of giddiness and giggles until I held my baby for the first time. But, while there was so much joy, relief and excitement there was a similar amount of nervousness, fear and anxiety that we would miscarry again. 

It meant any pain in Katie’s stomach created a pit in mine. Every ultrasound or midwife appointment made my heart rate reach Mighty Mouse at the PNE levels. But, it was always exactly that: a roller coaster. And, luckily, our roller coaster reached the platform. Katie and I got out, undid our safety harnesses, and embraced our daughter, Louie (our first was always going to be a girl). Along the way, we did embrace our impending parenthood—I Did it For the Dads, our families threw us delightful baby showers. We nested and nested and nested some more.

For us, too, the immediacy of getting pregnant again made it more jarring. About a month after Louie was born I sat down with Gill from Brood for an interview. She wanted to know what my first 40 days as a dad was like. But, to paint the full picture, I was asked: “Ahead of the birth, how were you setting yourself up to be a support person?”

“Katie had really bad morning sickness,” I answered, “so I became the ‘executive chef of eggs’ in our house because that was the only thing that she could eat and keep down. So every morning for the past year, I made her three eggs, that sort of thing.”

Anyone who knows me will attest that math is not my strong suit, but Katie was indeed pregnant for much longer than a routine nine-month stretch. I remember feeling concerned it was unfair to Katie. She had to endure the physical effects, something I was shielded from as a non-birthing parent.

It is the only time in my life I can remember thinking that it may not be worth it. That the means did not justify the end. But I am beyond grateful we stayed the course. If you are on that course now, and are ready to (or want to) carry on down it, just know that we are together in this club that none of us wanted to be in. 

But with its membership comes a community that can be relied upon. My friends here at Brood have plenty of resources as well as a free Miscarriage & Early Loss course this month to guide you and those closest to you through this. Now that I am a card-carrying member of this club, too, know that you have an ally in me. As long as there will be no math.