Bringing Home a Rainbow Baby
A year ago today I had a miscarriage. After six months of trying, I saw two little lines and hugged my husband. Imagined life with three. And named her in my mind. Because, yes – I just knew she was a girl.
A few days later we packed our bags and headed to my parents’ house. That evening we sat around the kitchen table and I insinuated to my parents that our lives would be a lot busier come early summer…that our family of four, would be five. It was the third time I had shared baby news with my parents – and it was every bit as exciting then, as it was five years ago when we were expecting Bauer.
Three days after that I sat on the sofa in my family home and cried. I was losing her and there was nothing I could do to stop it.
Tucked away in a box upstairs are a handful of pregnancy tests…with two little lines. We had an early miscarriage – but a loss nonetheless, and I was worried that time would play tricks on my mind…that I would forget that she was ever really there at all.
As if the emotional toll isn’t taxing enough, the physical reminder can be enough to break you. My husband was traveling the week I had to make multiple trips to my doctor’s office to monitor the loss. My dad drove me. My dad sat in a waiting room of a Women’s OBGYN and watched me go in and out with tears in my eyes. I don’t know if I told him how much that meant to me…so thank you, dad.
In the weeks to come I would break down more times than I could count. Sometimes in front of my husband…never in front of our girls…but mostly, alone. Pregnancy announcements would pop-up in my newsfeed and I’d hate myself for feeling a pang of jealousy. Who was I to feel that way? I had two healthy children in my arms.
I told my sisters and my closest friends. And then I tucked it away until I told the masses months later.
I’m writing this as I fight the urge to nod off. A baby swing is rocking back and forth next to me, playing a rhythmic tune, accompanied by 4-week-old hiccups. His name is Crichton James and I guess you could say he wasn’t “supposed” to be here.
On October 7, 2018 I had a miscarriage and on January 1, 2019 I had a positive pregnancy test. We’ve never gotten pregnant so fast, so it seems you should say, he IS supposed to be here.
October is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month. In the last year I’ve learned that I know more women who have suffered a loss than I know women who haven’t. And I’m glad I shared mine so publicly…because I’ve been given the beautiful opportunity to counsel others as they trek through their own storms – close friends and strangers.
Women carry the pain differently – some share it, some tuck it deep inside. I wear mine around my neck – a necklace with a “B” for Bauer, “K” for Kingsley, “C” for Crichton and diamond for the baby we lost.
If you’re mourning a loss today – I know your pain. If you’re praying to see two little lines – I’m praying with you. And if you’re holding a rainbow baby of your own – enjoy all the much-deserved snuggles.
When I publicly shared our miscarriage earlier this year I wrote these words:
Don’t be afraid to try again. I had heard the term “rainbow baby” before, but I think it’s one of those things that until you’ve experienced loss – the gravity of the words may be lost on you. I imagine pregnancy after a miscarriage is terrifying. But man, holding a newborn after miscarriage – I can only dream of the type of joy that brings
So.Much.Joy.
Thank you to Aspen + Co. for these beautiful “Rainbow Baby” and Rainbow Mama” shirts. When I wear mine I feel strong. And when I see Crichton wear his I feel grateful.