My wife and I lost our first child. We’re not exactly sure
when (although we have been told the baby measured at eight weeks and five
days), but we found out about a week short of the first trimester ending.
An ultrasound showed there was not a heartbeat. It was February
28, 2015, and I was on my way back home from working a basketball game in Lake
Charles, Louisiana. When she told me the news, I had the most terrible
sensation overcome my entire body. I felt like I was on fire from the inside
out. I was on the verge of bawling and throwing up at the same time.
Cassie woke me up in early January 2015 and handed me a
positive pregnancy test. After two years of us trying to have a baby, it had
finally happened. And I immediately fell in love with that child. Instantly, I
loved that baby more than anything on this planet. In the weeks that followed,
I talked to the baby every night that I was home. I filled many pages of a
journal, writing letters I hoped he or she would enjoy reading some day. Every
entry was signed “Love, Dad.”
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| Journal Entry |
Over the weeks following the miscarriage, I had constant
“flash forwards.” I kept thinking of all those moments I wanted to share with that
child. I saw a faceless person grow up in my mind, imagining events that
included birthdays and graduations, plus little moments of us laughing
together.
Cassie and I grew tired of calling the baby “he or she” or
“it.” No matter what happened in the future, whether we aren’t able to have any
other kids or if we have 15, this baby will always be our first. And since it
was too soon to know if the baby was a boy or a girl, Cassie suggested Angel.
Angel Mycoskie. Perfect.
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| Eight-week ultrasound: Only time we saw Angel's heart beating |
On Father’s Day 2015, I celebrated my dad and grandfathers.
But it was easily the toughest day for me in the immediate aftermath of losing
our baby. Hearing “Happy Father’s Day” over and over again at church was really
difficult. Right after the first song, I completely lost it. Big ugly cry.
At that point, Cassie would have been six months pregnant. Had
Angel still been in the womb, it would have been a very different day. No doubt
most everyone I came across that morning would be referring to the upcoming birth
and how excited I must be on Father’s Day. “So close!” “The baby’s almost here!”
Instead, when people turned to me and said “Happy Father’s Day” during the
service, I found it hard to reciprocate.
This Father’s Day will be very different. I will hold my
three-month old baby boy, Austin Thomas Mycoskie, in my arms. I will kiss his beautiful
face over and over again. I’ll have a huge smile and he’ll smile back at me. It
will be an awesome Father’s Day, but it will not be my first as a dad.
