This poem is not intending that mothers don’t grieve or don’t feel the same way. Without a doubt, you do. I’m trying to put my feelings into words which is hard to do. Fathers never have a chance to feel a baby moving inside, rolling from one side to another. Fathers must wait for birth to even begin the bonding. However, if something goes wrong with the pregnancy, the father isn’t given the chance to begin. In other words, it’s ended before it begins. Instead of fixing the bassinet, I’m fixing the funeral arrangements. Our twins Amber Kay and Brianna Lynn had twin-to-twin transfusion with hydrops. They were our first children. Amber was stillborn and Brianna weighed 1 lb. 15 oz. She fit in the palm of my hand, and my wedding ring was an oversized bracelet on her. Brianna is doing well, especially when the odds for either of them surviving were 30%.

To the fathers – I feel for you. I think it’s time for us to begin talking to one another…talk about the way we feel. We need to express ourselves also. We are supposed to be the strong one, the one that holds the world in our left hand and the universe in the other. Sometimes we just can’t. That’s OK. Remember we are HUMAN. My wife asked me to send something to Dad’s Corner, and I was thinking and thinking about it. I felt uncomfortable at first. Then I started the poem. I didn’t realize till now how much anger I have built up inside. After I wrote the poem I cried, and it felt strange, but afterwards the sense of relief that came was worth dropping the world and the universe for a minute to just think of Amber and me. Come on, Dads – it’s your turn now.


From the time of conception
their bonding starts.
Fathers bond too,
Though with medical charts.

The moving and dancing,
They’re happy with glee.
Yet ultrasound pictures
Are all fathers see.

The cleaning and lifting
she can do no more.
Fathers take over
for now it’s their chore.

Mothers are anxious
for birth to take place
As fathers are nervous
with sweat on their face.

All of the planning
we both have done
Fathers still wait
for their daughters or sons.

Suddenly my world
of joy is crushed.
My wife’s down the hall,
being seriously rushed.

I think, “No this can’t happen”,
I’m so full of fear.
I feel so helpless,
my eyes show a tear.

A doctor comes out,
a tired-looking man…
says to me,
“We’ve done all we can.”

I’m angry at God
swearing him out.
“You took my baby”,
loudly I shout.

You didn’t give me
or my child a chance
To see one another,
not even a glance.

I’ve waited and waited
to hold, touch and see
That beautiful child
my wife gave to me.

Instead you’ve taken
that child of mine
As everyone tells us,
“It must be a sign”.

My trust in you, God,
has decreased, not enhanced.
Because fathers aren’t given
a single fair chance.