Oct. 28, 2016
The journey to parenthood can be unique for everyone, but the grief that accompanies loss is a universal experience. Last year, I faced a miscarriage that shattered my world.
This pregnancy was entirely unexpected. I was in the midst of transitioning, with artificial testosterone coursing through my body, making the chance of conception feel nearly impossible. I relied on non-hormonal birth control as my safeguard. The idea of carrying a child was so far from my mind that it wasn’t until I experienced the loss that I even realized I had been pregnant, a fact later confirmed by my doctor.
Sitting in the shower, I felt a mix of confusion and sorrow as I tried to process the reality of what had happened. Just a month into my marriage, I was still pursuing my studies and eyeing a potential promotion. It seemed like horrific timing, but did that mean the child I lost was unwanted? For a time, I couldn’t find the answer.
I tried to suppress my emotions, convincing myself it was merely a clump of cells—not yet a baby. I told myself it felt no pain and likely had chromosomal defects. This rationalization shielded me from the pain initially, but as the shock faded, the waves of grief hit me hard. I was left grappling with profound sadness—who would that child have been?
Fear also crept in. Would I ever have a child in the future? Anger bubbled up too—why did this happen to me? Guilt weighed heavily on my shoulders; did I somehow cause this?
While many trans men shy away from the idea of pregnancy, I had always dreamed of being a parent. As a gay man, I was aware of what it entailed and was simply waiting for the right moment. In the meantime, I envisioned diapers, strollers, and a love that I longed to share.
With the confirmation of my loss, those dreams crystallized into stark reality. I had to face the truth: I lost a baby, a stroller, a future filled with possibilities. Acknowledging this loss opened the door to healing, allowing my tears to flow freely. The stigma around masculinity didn’t matter; men can grieve too.
Now, as I navigate my pregnancy with a planned child, I still think of the baby I lost. Occasionally, I find myself weeping, holding onto the comforting thought that my son is perhaps the same soul returned to me when I was ready. Though my faith has wavered, this idea brings me solace.
Yet, the fear of experiencing that loss again lingers, especially as I await the arrival of my little one. This shared fear connects me with countless parents across all gender identities, creating a bond of pain and understanding that I wish we didn’t share.
Throughout this journey, I’ve found a community of kindness and acceptance, regardless of how we identify. Each kick, roll, and flutter is a moment to cherish, a reminder that every life is a gift we hold dear.
If you’re looking for more information on this topic, check out our other blog post on terms and conditions. For those interested in home insemination resources, Make A Mom offers great kits to support your journey. Additionally, UCSF’s fertility treatment page is an excellent resource for understanding pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, miscarriage is a profound loss that transcends gender identities, connecting us in a shared experience of grief and longing for what could have been. Every parent who has faced this heartache understands the weight of such a loss, and together, we navigate the complexities of love, hope, and healing.