I’m not sure if I have broached the subject of rainbow babies before, or if I have really written about mine. You see Ariana, my beautiful daughter, is my rainbow baby. A rainbow baby is a baby born after a mother suffers a loss. Not long before I had Ariana I did just that.
I was unfortunately the only one who seemed happy about my pregnancy, but I didn’t care. I was so excited to be a mom. I was about eight weeks along when I woke up one morning sick. Obviously, feeling nauseous during pregnancy, especially during the first few months isn’t a warning sign. So what did I do? I went back to sleep.
I should have never closed my eyes.
A few hours later I awoke in so much pain. My lower abdomen and my back were throbbing every few minutes. I didn’t know what was wrong until I went to the bathroom. Blood, everywhere. My pants, my legs, in the toilet. The pain that had dissipated only a few minutes ago came back. I screamed for help and started crying. No one was home but my brother, who at the time seemed so young. He didn’t know I was pregnant. I called my mom immediately and didn’t hesitate to tell her, “Mom I’m losing my baby.”
The next few moments are hazy and clear at the same time. I remember handing my brother the phone. I remember him running to the neighbors house, him calling 9-1-1. I remember the ambulance arriving. I remember my mom showing up from wherever she had been, rushing me into her truck and driving me to the hospital. I remember waiting in the waiting room with my parents, hysterical and screaming in pain. I was eventually put onto a stretcher. Gabe had been at work, I’m not sure where but he was soon by my side. They took me down to get a sonogram. A silent sonogram. No heartbeat. My poor baby had died inside of me and there was nothing I could do. I refused to believe what the tech was telling me. And even when my doctor confirmed that my baby was gone, I refused to have them take it out. It. Such a strong word because I will never know if my baby would be a girl or a boy. He or she never had a name. I never met them.
They put me to sleep for the procedure, and I woke up dazed, confused, not believing my loss. The emotional pain I felt was worse than any physical pain I had ever endured. I kept it in, moving through the next few months quieter than normal, not writing, not anything. I secretly vowed to myself that I would never get pregnant again. I knew I couldn’t handle the loss of another.
I was on birth control. I took it every day at the same exact time. Yet somehow, God must have decided I should be a mother and he blessed me with my rainbow baby. Being pregnant again scared the hell out of me. I was so nervous with everything I did and ate and didn’t do or didn’t eat. I spent my pregnancy battling an inner hell. Feeling so unbelievably happy that I was getting another chance at motherhood, but feeling immensely sad about the baby I had lost a few months before.
Eight months later and my beautiful girl was born. Though she was in NICU for a week, she was amazing and healthy and to this day is the light of every room she walks into. She is the most amazing little girl and one day I may or may not tell her about my loss.
**I cried the entire time I wrote this. And then I prayed, that God would help me to get the pain out. I never mourned my baby, I ran away from the feelings. And though it hurts, and I wish things had been different, I am grateful that I have been able to put this to words. I still have my only ultrasound picture of my baby. And that is something I will never let go.**