Celebrating My Rainbow Baby and Mourning The Loss Of The One I Never Got To Hold
October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month. More specifically, October 15th is a remembrance day in honor of all the babies who died to soon, from early pregnancy loss thru infant death. This is a topic I know from experience that most women and men do not like to discuss, but being able to remember those we have lost with both sadness and joy, can be a very helpful aid to healing our hearts and souls.
Recent statistics show that 15-20% of pregnancies will end in miscarriage, with the majority of miscarriages occurring in the first trimester. This is why most parents will not announce that they are pregnant until they have crossed that invisible safety line of 12 weeks gestation, but miscarriage can still occur up to 20 weeks. After 20 weeks of pregnancy, a loss is considered a stillbirth. Stillbirth usually occurs before a woman goes into labor, but can also sadly occur during labor. Stillbirth occurs in about 1% of pregnancies. In the majority of cases, the cause of a miscarriage or stillbirth is unknown, and there is no one to blame. Regardless of the facts, most of us still have a time period where we blame ourselves.
In October 2014 I saw a faint pink line on a pregnancy test that confirmed what my husband and I had hoped for, we were pregnant! At 34 years old, this was everything I had always hoped for. I have always known that I wanted to be somebody’s momma. I was the friend who always held everyone else’s baby at events, the aunt that everyone depended on, and, in my early teaching career, the preschool teacher that would take the inconsolable baby from the infant room on my break and just rock and sooth them until they fell asleep. When I was diagnosed with endometriosis in my early twenties, I spent many emotional years wondering if I would be able to get pregnant. As luck would have it, I got pregnant our first month of trying. I had two amazing weeks loving that little life that was growing inside of me, planning for all that life had in store, contacting the birth center I wanted to deliver at, and thinking about names and nursery décor. And then it was over. It started with a small streak of blood that steadily increased as the evening went on. I knew what was happening, but I still held onto hope until about midnight when I called my midwife in tears. She sadly, and lovingly confirmed my biggest fear, I was having a miscarriage. I laid on the couch that whole night clutching my stomach and crying for the loss of a life I was never going to be able to hold. My body was in horrible pain and my heart was completely broken.
When my husband woke up that morning I remember walking into our bedroom and the only words I could choke out as he held me were, “This sucks”. And then I broke. Every ounce of control I tried to have over the situation was gone, and all I could do was cry. My husband laid with me in bed and held me as I sobbed hysterically. It was everything I needed in that moment, and he stayed with me until I cried myself to sleep. I spent the next few days on the couch in a mixture of physical and emotional pain. Only two people knew I was pregnant, my best friend and a woman I will forever be grateful for at my work. I did not want to talk about it because my emotions were still so raw, so I went back to work and told them I had had a stomach bug. I cried a lot over the course of the next few weeks. A song, commercial, TV show, or comment would set me off and send me back down my emotional rabbit hole. I turned down invitations to events, and shut out the outside world as best I could, because no one else knew what had happened. And then, a little more than a month later, I had another positive pregnancy test.
I cannot put into words the mix of joy and fear I had when that stick announced that I was 1-2 weeks pregnant. With a shaking hand I showed my husband, who was also in disbelief. I took a new pregnancy test every week for a month just to see if my hormone levels were up enough to show progression. Every time I would see 2-3 weeks, 3-4 weeks, and 4 plus weeks, I breathed a little more easily. I went in to see my midwife early because of my recent loss, and at 9 weeks I was able to see my little lamb on our first ultrasound. But I still couldn’t completely enjoy my pregnancy. Every week that passed, every ounce of all day sickness I felt, gave me more hope. We announced our pregnancy on Christmas to our family, and it helped make everything seem more viable for me. But, I honestly don’t think I really felt safe until I started my third trimester. Every move, kick, and hiccup was further reassurance that we were going to be okay. My love for the life inside of me could not possibly be put into words, but there were still days when I mourned deeply for the one I would never hold.
In August 2015 I gave birth to my beautiful, healthy, and happy Rainbow baby, a term used for a baby born after a pregnancy or infant loss, but I became a mother in October 2014 when that second line turned pink. I am so grateful for both of my babies. My first taught me about a love and joy I didn’t know existed within me, and showed me how strong I was capable of being when I had to say goodbye far too soon. My second allowed me to be the mother I had always wanted to be, the one who loves unconditionally, dries sad tears, rocks and nurses her to sleep, and works tirelessly to provide the best life possible for her. My cup runneth over.
More often than not, thinking of the child I lost still brings a weight of sadness with tears that cannot be suppressed, but this is part of my journey. As years go by, I hope those moments will bring the memories of joy to my heart more than sadness. For the momma’s and daddy’s who never got to hold their babies, and for the ones who got to hold them but had to say goodbye far too soon, my heart holds a special place for you. I will not pretend to say that I know what you went through, because we all experience our losses differently, but I will say that you are not alone. There are support networks out there on a local and national level that can help you through your journey if you need the support. And there are days like October 15 when you can light a candle in remembrance, honor, and celebration of the little life that was taken far too soon.
Love, Laughter, & Light,
