Losing a child: A dad’s perspective

Men are often neglected in the conversation surrounding stillborn deaths. Source: Supplied

IT'S A club no man wants to join, with a membership paid for in pain.

The Stillbirth Foundation Australia says every day nationwide, six children are stillborn — the term used when a pregnancy fails once it's progressed beyond 20 weeks.

To put that into greater perspective, according to parental support organisation Sands Australia, for every child that dies from Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS), 10 will be stillborn.

Add the fact miscarriage occurs in one in six of all Australian pregnancies, and we're talking about a significant number of grieving parents.

The focus, when receiving such news, is often on the mother — and that's to be expected.

But of course, both parents are suffering. Both have just lost a child.

While few can dispute the physical act of carrying a child entails an intense emotional bond, a recent Australian study has challenged what its authors termed the "over-simplistic" assumption that a man's level of trauma at losing a child is low compared to a woman's.

This is especially apparent given the advances of reproductive technology.

Writing in the Journal of Sociology, University of Queensland researchers Shari Bonnette and Alex Broom identified the "techno-mediated" relationship that men develop with their children long before birth.

The "visual and sensual representation of their child" that comes through 3D ultrasound imaging and the ability to hear the sound of the baby's heartbeat has helped cement the notion that fatherhood starts when the baby is in the womb.

In other words, new dads are acknowledging their status — not only to themselves, but to the world — earlier, and in a more complex way than the clichéd delivery-room epiphany suggests.

Six children are stillborn in Australia each day. Source: Supplied

In 2010, Sydneysiders Gary and Amy Sillett lost their son, Isaac, at 26 weeks.

After taking Amy to Royal North Shore Private Hospital with a nagging abdominal pain that she hadn't experienced while pregnant with their first son, Callum, they were transferred to the nearby public hospital for an ultrasound, and ominously ushered to the front of the queue.

Tests on the amniotic fluid revealed that the baby had Rieger's syndrome, a rare condition associated with eye abnormalities, cranio-facial malformations and psychomotor activity.

Doctors explained that an emergency C-section was the only option but even then, the outlook wasn't promising.

"I knew the situation was serious," says Sillett, who works with international aid organisation ICARE.

"I thought, 'Right, we now have 13 weeks to get him where he needs to be, health-wise.' You hear miraculous stories about babies surviving such situations."

Sillett, 39, busied himself with the logistics of updating family, and organising care for Callum. "I felt isolated and powerless," he says.

"I was trying to coordinate the practicalities of dealing with the situation while supporting Amy. I felt guilty I wasn't by her side all the time, but by the same token I had to sort out these arrangements and be a conduit of information for everyone around us.

"This was especially difficult because we didn't know if Isaac would make it. In retrospect, I'm glad I didn't have time to think about what I'd do if he died. If I had, I would have fallen apart."

That night, Sillett slept on a mattress beside his wife's hospital bed. A day after being admitted, Amy was taken into surgery. Sillett had to remain outside.

"That was one of the hardest times of my life. I was on my own in this waiting area where the doctors' job is to prepare you for the worst — in our case losing Amy and Isaac.

"When you hear people going on about a 'terrible' delivery, many don't know what they are talking about. Three times during the operation, a nurse came to tell me things weren't looking good."

Sydney couple Gary and Amy Sillett, lost their son, Isaac, at 26 weeks and say it was the hardest time of their lives. Source: Supplied

An hour after going into theatre, Isaac, a name the couple had already chosen, was delivered stillborn. Adrenalin was administered and his heart was restarted but two hours later he passed away.

A common coping mechanism for many fathers is to get involved in the science, says Emma McLeod, founder of the Stillbirth Foundation. "One of the main ways men differ from women who lose a child is they want to understand what went wrong," she says.

"Understanding the science gives them comfort. When children die in the earlier stages of pregnancy, it's often for genetic reasons, which medical science can pinpoint, but with up to 50 per cent of those who are stillborn or close to term, we simply don't know why this happened. "This leads to a sense of powerlessness for many men. Having witnessed their partner go through a labour, in which they often know the baby won't be delivered alive, I see many men go into 'fixing' mode, trying to make things right. This often means focusing on the mum as a way to avoid dealing with their own feelings."

Sillett recognises himself in McLeod's observation.

"We were in the maternity section, and hearing the babies around us was just agony," says Sillett. "We went home the next day."

And it's at home where the responses to the loss of a baby begin to significantly deviate.

"Gary took on this role as my protector from the outside world," says Amy. "I was recovering from a traumatic physical and emotional event and one of his ways of dealing with the circumstances was to remain strong. But this is deceptive. Men who lose a child are hurting just as badly — they seem to be doing OK to the outside world, but it's not the case."

For Sillett, it seemed there were few options. "You don't know how strong you are until it's the only choice. I had to be the pillar of support for my wife, family and friends," he says.

"I was the communication channel to the outside world. I also had to look after our other son because Amy was still recovering. On top of that, the world doesn't stop so you have to keep working to cover the mortgage, doctors bills, child care and so on."

"Men who lose a child are hurting just as badly — they seem to be doing OK to the outside world, but it's not the case." Source: Supplied

It's an imperative that becomes all the more vital when you consider that men in this situation share a closer bond with the deceased child than previously imagined, while still being hamstrung by outdated ideals of manhood. The University of Queensland study found that all of the men interviewed spent a good deal of time with their stillborn child, as well as commemorating them in the years to come, particularly on what would have been their birthday. Yet, even as they navigate a way to face life without their child, the majority felt they couldn't give full vent to their emotions — especially around partners. And that comes down to the age-old models of 'acceptable' male traits: strength, stoicism, resilience. As much as we think the contemporary models of masculinity are evolving, research says otherwise, and many grieving fathers are suffering as a result.

Sillett says: "During those hours in the intensive care unit, and Isaac subsequently passing away, there was little assistance for the dads," he says. "Most of the services are focused on the mums but you want to say, 'Hello — there's another parent grieving too.'"

It's this bitterness that McLeod is working to address at the Stillbirth Foundation. "While organisations such as ours predominantly focus on families, the community as a whole tends to direct most of its attention to the mums. However, the impact on fathers is massive," says McLeod.

According to McLeod, another common tactic for men coping with the loss of a child is, "taking some kind of formal stand against stillbirth, be it through charity work or fundraising in this area.

"This not only provides a chance to do something against this thing that took their child, but it also gives a legitimate reason to talk about them."

Sillett found succour in this tactic, and it all began with a game of golf.

"Gary was unbelievably supportive after we lost Isaac," says Amy. "But when he wasn't working, he was continually 'on duty' with myself and Callum. He was exhausted. I could see he needed time out. About a month after we came home, some of his friends called up for a game of golf. He blew them off the first couple of times but eventually I insisted he go just be a guy playing a round with his mates for a few hours, instead of a grieving dad. He came home that day with a smile I hadn't seen in over a month and renewed energy. There was still great sadness in our home but the golf day gave him a glimmer of hope that it didn't have to occupy him 24/7."

Mr Sillet won the NSW Community Father of the Year Award in 2012 for his work to support fathers of stillborn babies. Source: Supplied

The solace he felt inspired him to set up Pillars of Strength, a foundation that offers mourning fathers tickets to sports events and comedy nights — the idea being, if only for a short time, they can feel some normality in the company of others who know what they are going through, whether they want to talk about it or not.

Since its 2011 inception, the organisation has provided over 2600 days out for bereaved dads, while a new accommodation initiative for regional families who find themselves stuck in Sydney (visiting hospitals) has provided over $70,000 worth of free beds.

It also won Sillett the NSW Community Father of the Year Award in 2012 and enabled him to vocalise what he labels his son's legacy.

"It's important to recognise dads as dads no matter if they held their son or daughter for just 30 seconds. A father is always a father. Nothing, not even death, can take that away from you."

There's no doubting sociocultural norms still prevent grief-stricken fathers from seeking help or acknowledging the extent of their emotional agony. Though Sillett's experiences illustrates that it's possible for a man who's lost a child to find a way to learn to live with it.

For now, the pathways to recovery are not clearly illuminated. But with roughly 200 babies dying every day in Australia as a result of miscarriage, stillbirth and SIDS, the time has come to shine a light, for the sake of those left behind.

This is an edited extract of an article in the September/October 2014 issue of GQ Australia.

The cover of the September/October issue of GQ Australia, featuring Joel Edgerton. Source: GQ Australia

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