I love the idea of rainbow babies. I love that after complete heartache that you can still be hopeful and find a bright spot and that even through a dark sky that beautiful blending colors can still appear promising brighter days ahead. Although we are only weeks away from meeting our rainbow baby, I would be lying to say I feel completely at ease with her rainbow title. To me, a storm passes and the rainbow appears like magic painting the sky shortly after the clouds have moved out. Though I’m overwhelmed to tears some days with gratefulness for our soon to be here baby, the storm free sky is also painted with anxiety, stress, sadness and fear.
Have you seen before and after photos of a hurricane? They usually show large, beautiful beach houses and boardwalks lined with stores and the after photographs show flattened land that only parking lots and any remaining landmarks can distinguish. People are apprehensive to rebuild knowing that another storm, possibly even stronger, might be right around the bend. Maybe in a month or a year or two. They debate the pros and cons of moving forward. Rebuilding, but at what cost? Will their home ever be the same? Will a new house ever feel like home again?
When people think of the rainbow, they sometimes assume that you are so thankful for another chance of a miracle, that you shouldn’t complain. Let me tell you, rainbow pregnancies are riddled with anxiety over another loss. You analyze every symptom until you are exhausted in every capacity. Too much nausea, not enough nausea, headaches, no headaches, backaches, backaches that come and go, nothing is ever reassuring. I’m nearing 38 weeks and I can tell you with 100% certainty I still check for blood and hold my breath while doing so. I never counted kicks with my other babies, until now. I have only done genetic testing with this little angel. Hitting milestones are never enough. You think at 12 weeks you will feel relief, but you don’t. You keep your eyes forward for your 20-week anatomy scan and even then, if you are assured all is well, you still have a sinking feeling that something has been missed. You have twinges of excitement and happiness, but there is always a lingering fear that it’s too good to be true – and you know this from experience. Even through her barrel rolls in my belly and our 11 ultrasounds, she still doesn’t feel real most days. Her clothes are folded and waiting and our bags are packed, but until she’s safely in my arms and can come home to the rest of the circus, I won’t breathe.
So if you’re feeling guilty that you can’t bring yourself to “move on” even with a rainbow baby on the way, or you find yourself wondering about the baby you lost even with one growing inside of you, I’m with you and I see you and all of your feelings are completely valid. You can grieve, be excited and filled with hope and fear all at the same time. So if your rainbow baby is more of a FEMA baby that is slowly putting you back together, that’s okay. If your baby is a dawn baby that is showing a new day, but doesn’t need to promise bright skies, that’s okay. Sometimes seeing the rainbow depends on timing and where your position is, and maybe that’s exactly what we will see when we hold our little painted sky love.
Then Life Happened 