I Desperately Wanted To Make Her Pain Stop

RussellMoffettreveals his silent agony after his wifes miscarriages...

- Russell Moffett

My pregnant wife Sarah and I felt fizzy and excited as we strode into hospital for her three month scan. after two years of marriage, and two years of trying for our first child, our dream of becoming parents was nearing reality.

I remember gripping Sarah’s hand as that first grainy image of our baby appeared on the screen. But then the technician suddenly stopped talking and hurried out, saying she needed to fetch a doctor. Sarah looked up at me, confused and petrified. I squeezed her hand again, this time to reassure her. It struck me that our baby hadn’t moved at all on the screen. My heart lunged as we waited, but I kept my fears to myself. Sarah had to come first. A grim-faced doctor appeared. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

There were medical terms and theories as to why our baby had died, but all I could focus on was Sarah, who was sobbing uncontrollably. I desperately wanted to make her pain stop. It was clear from the start – as a nurse rushed in to offer Sarah water, a cold flannel, some tea – that my emotions were to take second place. No one asked me if I needed anything and, at first, that was fine with me.

From the ecstatic moment when we realised Sarah was pregnant, I knew I’d be taking a secondary role. Yes, I’d be a father, but the really dramatic changes would be taking place in Sarah’s body.

As I comforted my distraught wife, I was consciously shutting down my own need to be cared for. But behind the facade, my heart was breaking.