There are roughly 1 million pregnancies that ends in miscarriage each year

That’s 19 miscarriages every minute

That’s 57 miscarriages by the time I finish this poem

Each one is different and affects the parents in different ways

But to outsiders, they’re all the same

So you all treat them all the same

Friends and families come together from near and far to make sure that mother is ok

Wipe her tears that seem to last forever

Hold her tightly when she feels that she’s about to lose her mind

Forces her to eat



Get up


Get dressed

Go out

Have fun


Get better

She thanks them for their love, support and help

But no one ever asks the father how he’s doing

Or how he feels

So for myself and every other father of little lost angels

I’d like to say

Saying it feels like hell would be a gross understatement

Its feels more like God said let there be

But didn’t include my child in this

Didn’t have my child on His mind when writing out His perfect will

But He concluded that 1 in every 4 pregnancies would end in miscarriage

Why did my child have to be the chosen one

And no I wouldn’t dare wish this on even my worst enemy

But it’ll make you ask question like ‘why don’t our perfect God have a perfect record with this’

What made my innocent child so unworthy

Was not His son enough

Did He have to take mine as well

Why did he allow the doctor to carry my soul in her hands as she walked into the hallway

It felt like dying each time a drop of blood fell from her hands and hit the floor

I can’t even remember how many drops of blood there were because I forgot to breathe in those moments

I felt like God had crucified me

For he had my nose

My ears

My blood

And my name

And this is a cross that I’m forced to carry still

5 years later

So do me a favor

Next time you hear of a miscarriage

Whether from your sister, friend, cousin, aunt, niece, mother or daughter

Please say a prayer for the father

Pray that he doesn’t die

Like I did