It's rare for dads to share their thoughts about miscarriages. This man did.
I remember the rainy winter night vividly. Our unborn baby was dead.
Three days prior to Christmas 2009, my wife and I lost our baby. I put on a brave face for my wife by saying everything will be OK, and I told my inner circle that we'll dust ourselves off and try again — but privately I was a mess.
I know that about 15-20% of confirmed pregnancies end in miscarriage, but that didn't ease our immense pain.
Oftentimes the stories of miscarriages are shared through the perspectives of the women who experience them, and rightfully so. I didn't have to endure the physical pain and emotional pain that my wife and countless other women deal with.
But as a man, I want to share my version of the events to help others who are going through the same thing. The emotional pain and feelings of loss and helplessness following a miscarriage aren't something men talk about that often, but it was incredibly difficult for me. Simply put, I experienced a roller coaster of emotions during that time.
1. Sadness.
I didn't eat, I lost a lot of weight, and I spent a lot of my private moments in tears. I knew I had to move forward, but I didn't know how. Looking back on it, I know the main reason I was so sad for such a long period of time was due to not knowing if I should grieve — at least publicly.
I felt as if my role was to be the strong one. "This happened to my wife's body, not mine," I thought. "This can't be about me and my feelings." Society seemed to agree. Nobody asked how I was feeling. It was as if I was a bystander instead of an active participant in creating the child we lost. As the weeks passed, I fell deeper into despair.
If a loved one outside the womb died, I'd be given the green light to grieve. So why is it so strange for a man to grieve for a loved one who died inside the womb?
I couldn't keep up the charade for very long, and eventually the floodgates opened (which made me feel a lot better).
Embracing my sadness was hard for me to do, but things improved once I did. GIF from "Inside Out."
2. Anger and disgust.
I would hear stories of dads who have little to no interest in raising their children — and I would become enraged. How could someone father a child and not want to be involved in their life? Sure, many dads today are great — but I couldn't get the bad ones out of my mind.
It was almost as if the only way to rid myself of the rage would be to create a reality show called "Deadbeat Island." All the crappy dads of the world would be banished there to complete tasks like remembering their kids' birthdays or changing blowout diapers until they committed to being active fathers. But alas, that type of programming would never see the light of day.
Enjoy your stay on Deadbeat Island, buddy.
Some days were worse than others, but my main coping mechanism was to remember that it wasn't about the other guys. I would be the best dad I could be if I had the chance. That's what kept me going.
3. Fear.
When we became pregnant again, I experienced a level of fear that I haven't experienced in my lifetime. Every milestone was met with a brief sigh of relief followed by more intense panic.
"Whew! We passed the six-week mark ... but we still have to make it through the first trimester."
Every day there was something new to be afraid of — but mostly it stemmed from my fear of experiencing that devastation once again. It was like walking on an emotional tightrope for 40 straight weeks. My wife felt the same way.
From an emotional standpoint, this is what every day seemed like for my wife and me.
4. Joy.
After what seemed like the longest wait ever, I finally became a dad in January 2011.
You're looking at the happiest moment of my life.
I cried joyful tears, I laughed, I sang, I danced, and I completely lost my mind in excitement during that first day. The love affair only grew from there.
Sure, it's never easy waking up in the middle of the night to change diapers or soothe a fussy baby, but that's what I signed up for. I wanted the chance and I received it, and that made me very happy.
Being the best dad I can be for my daughter and her baby sister inspires me to be a better man.
My daughters are now 5 and 2.5 years old.
I wasn't the greatest guy before a became a dad, and that miscarriage was the wake-up call I sorely needed to improve.
Today I talk less and listen more. I give more hugs than handshakes. I'm less, "I've got it all together," and more, "We're all in this together."
Sure, I'm still a work in progress (aren't we all?), but I figure if I'm aspiring to be the best dad I can be for my daughters, why can't I aspire to be the best human being I can be for everyone who cares about me?
I don't have all of the answers, but I can state that my overwhelming passion to be a good dad stems from the fear that I'd never have the chance to become one.
I'm not naive. I know there are thousands of people all over the world who cannot have children. But once the chance to be a father was taken away during that December night, I didn't think about that. I think about it now, and my heart goes out to the families who encounter those challenges.
No matter your gender, please know that you're not alone. Riding the emotional rollercoaster of miscarriages can be easier if you know that others are going along for the ride with you.
"Now your fishes will be warmed."
"To have one’s eyes lined with ham."
"To lay your head in water."
"Repetition teaches the donkey."
"I only understand train station."
"To speak directly from the liver."
"Horse horse, tiger tiger."
Beaver in water. Photo by 
An actual beaver dam on the now-thriving Price River
Medusa image of giant squid in Gulf of Mexico off of Mississippi Gulf CoastPhoto credit: 
Sign warning against feeding alligators next to alligator in Mississippi marshlandsCourtesy of Jacalyn Wetzel
Mississippi Gulf Coast beach in BiloxiCourtesy of Jacalyn Wetzel
2009 photo of giant squid caught in Gulf of Mexico near Mississippi GulfPhoto credit: 
Thank goodness this story has a happy ending.
There's a reason why some people can perfectly copy accents, and others can't
Turns out, there's a neurodivergent link.
A woman in black long sleeve shirt stands in front of mirror.
Have you ever had that friend who goes on vacation for four days to London and comes back with a full-on Queen's English posh accent? "Oooh I left my brolly in the loo," they say, and you respond, "But you're from Colorado!" Well, there are reasons they (and many of us) do that, and usually it's on a pretty subconscious level.
It's called "accent mirroring," and it's actually quite common with people who are neurodivergent, particularly those with ADHD (Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder). According Neurolaunch, the self-described "Free Mental Health Library," "Accent mirroring, also known as accent adaptation or phonetic convergence, is the tendency to unconsciously adopt the accent or speech patterns of those around us. This linguistic chameleon effect is not unique to individuals with ADHD, but it appears to be more pronounced and frequent in this population."
Essentially, when people have conversations, we're constantly "scanning" for information—not just the words we're absorbing, but the inflection and tone. "When we hear an accent, our brains automatically analyze and categorize the phonetic features, prosody, and intonation patterns," writes Neurolaunch. For most, this does result in copying the accent of the person with whom we're speaking. But those with ADHD might be more sensitive to auditory cues. This, "coupled with a reduced ability to filter out or inhibit the impulse to mimic…could potentially explain the increased tendency for accent mirroring."
While the article explains further research is needed, they distinctly state that, "Accent mirroring in individuals with ADHD often manifests as an unconscious mimicry of accents in social situations. This can range from subtle shifts in pronunciation to more noticeable changes in intonation and speech rhythm. For example, a person with ADHD might find themselves unconsciously adopting a Southern drawl when conversing with someone from Texas, even if they’ve never lived in the South themselves."
People are having their say online. On the subreddit r/ADHDWomen, a thread began: "Taking on accents is an ADHD thing?" The OP shares, "My whole life, I've picked up accents. I, myself, never noticed, but everyone around me would be like, 'Why are you talking like that??' It could be after I watched a show or movie with an accent or after I've traveled somewhere with a different accent than my 'normal.'
They continue, "Apparently, I pick it up fast, but it fades out slowly. Today... I'm scrolling Instagram, I watch a reel from a comedian couple (Darcy and Jeremy. IYKYK) about how Darcy (ADHD) picks up accents everywhere they go. It's called ADHD Mirroring??? And it's another way of masking."
(The OP is referring to Darcy Michaels and his husband Jeremy Baer, who are both touring comedians based in Canada.)
Hundreds of people on the Reddit thread alone seem to relate. One comments, "Omfg I've done this my whole life; I'll even pick up on the pauses/spaces when I'm talking to someone who is ESL—but English is my first language lol."
Sometimes, it can be a real issue for those around the chameleon. "I accidentally mimicked a waitress's weird laugh one time. As soon as she was out of earshot, my family started to reprimand me, but I was already like 'oh my god I don’t know why I did that, I feel so bad.'"
Many commenters on TikTok were shocked to find out this can be a sign of ADHD. One jokes, "Omg, yes, at a store the cashier was talking to me and she was French. She's like 'Oh are you French too? No, I'm not lol. I'm very east coast Canada."
And some people just embrace it and make it work for them. "I mirror their words or phrase! I’m 30. I realized I start calling everyone sweetie cause my manager does & I work at coffee shop."