Our Rainbow Baby

You may have noticed that today, October 15, is Pregnancy and Infancy Loss Awareness Day. While it seems that there is something special to celebrate every day of the year, this day hits close to home for me.

It's hard to believe that almost a year ago to the day, I was at the high-risk doctor praying that the baby I was carrying was still viable. Praying that I would not have to endure another miscarriage. 

Thankfully God answered my prayer.

The year was a tumultuous one. We were settling into a new city, in a new house, after living out of suitcases for 6 months. Daniel and I were ready to expand our family and were elated that by Easter we were expecting. 

Shortly after Easter came the horrible news that I was experiencing a blighted ovum and would miscarry. The miscarriage happened at home on the Sunday before Mother's Day. I was crushed.

Today, as I hold my sweet baby boy, it is hard to believe that last year held such difficulty. My pregnancy with Isaac was high risk and filled with anxiety. There was a fear that would not loose its grip on me. And it all culminated last April with a rather scary emergency C-section. 

Six month later, here we are. Isaac is our sunshine, our rainbow after a terrible storm. He is laughter and sweetness and love. He reminds us that good things can happen, even after bad. My experience in bringing him into the world is one of learning to trust fully in God. In letting go of the things that I cannot control. He is our rainbow baby.

I recently had an epiphany: 
While my miscarriage was very difficult (physically and emotionally), and I am saddened that we never met that baby, if we had not walked through that valley Isaac would not be in our arms today. 

So we press forward and embrace what God has given us: our precious family of four. We do not take for granted our days and we give thanks for the good and the bad, having hope in the knowledge that the child lost is in heaven.

If you have experienced pregnancy or infant loss, I hope that you will be brave and share your story with those around you. In sharing I have found great healing. If you know someone who has experienced this type of loss, be willing to listen in an effort to shoulder their burden with them. Click here for other suggestions for supporting your loved one.

Early this year I met someone who shared HopeMommies.Org with me. This is an organization that provides an online support system for those who have experienced infant and pregnancy loss. They also have retreats you can attend and Hope Boxes that you can purchase on behalf of a loved one walking through this valley of sorrow.

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the LORD, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." Jeremiah 29:11

Gratitude

My heart was full of gratitude on Mothers' Day weekend.

Last Mothers' Day feels like a lifetime ago – a nightmare that doesn't feel fully real today. I had miscarried the Sunday before this special day and I felt empty. Last year Daniel gave me space to grieve. We spent a quiet day together as a family of three, taking a bike ride and trying to feel a sense of normal.

This year is so different. I was surrounded by family, I had a three-week old in my arms, and my life felt like it is overflowing. 

I am so grateful for family. For our newest child. That good things can happen even after something bad. I am thankful for friends. For all who prayed and cared for us during this difficult pregnancy and recovery. I feel gratitude to all of the women in my life who have showed me the many ways to love and mother. 

I know that this life holds many more hills and valleys that must be traveled and we will muddle through each step, but this year is a mountaintop compared to the desert that we walked through this time last year.

my miscarriage...

A week before Mother’s Day, I had a natural miscarriage that occurred when I should have been 10 weeks and 3 days pregnant. The previous week Daniel and I had gone to my first OB appointment and learned that while my body was 9 weeks pregnant, a baby had never formed. The ultrasound showed only a yolk sac and my doctor called it a blighted ovum. She emphasized that sometimes these things just happen and there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. She also said that it was unlikely to happen again.

Daniel and I left the doctor numb. Bummed is the only way I can really describe how I felt at the time. We had a lovely steak dinner at Hennen’s in downtown Chattanooga – what should have been a celebration. We were mostly quiet. We walked to Ben & Jerry’s for ice cream and then down to the river to sit together. It was the first date we had had in forever. And we were bummed.

We opted to do some additional testing to confirm my diagnosis. I needed that extra week to research, hope and come to terms with what was happening. I prayed a lot for peace. After some additional blood work, my doctor called and confirmed the diagnosis, again. I wanted to have one more ultrasound before I decided anything further. But in my heart I knew there was no baby.

The following Sunday I stayed home from church. I didn’t feel right. Daniel brought lunch home and shortly after eating, my miscarriage started. I won’t go into details, but it was quite painful and I am thankful we had some lortab on hand. I don’t know if I would have made it through the afternoon without those narcotics. Five hours later it was over.

Miscarriage is probably the loneliest, most difficult experience I have had. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

The week after my miscarriage, I stayed home and watched lots of TV with Jack. Mostly we watched The Lorax – over and over again. I didn’t cook, I didn’t clean, I didn’t do much of anything. Then Jack came down with a fever and I panicked that something terrible was happening to him. I hauled him to the doctor and 24 hours later he was fine.

The Saturday before Mother’s Day, we took Jack to ride on Thomas the Train. We had purchased the tickets in advance and it turned out to be a good distraction for me. On Mother’s Day I slept in and we spent the afternoon biking. I just needed to be with my family and surrounded by nature.

The Monday after Mother’s Day, I made myself go to the body pump class at the Y – I needed a hard workout. Tuesday I went back to the Y and pushed hard through a Boot Camp class. It felt good to be active after a two-week hiatus.

During Boot Camp, while taking my 60-second turn to kick a punching bag to my heart’s content, I looked around the gym and it dawned on me that everyone has had difficult experiences. There is a girl that takes the same classes that I do who happens to be an amputee. Someone else in the class had a hysterectomy earlier this year, and an older gentleman who comes recently had his gall bladder removed. In addition, about a month ago our instructor lost her father unexpectedly. My point is that at some point in our lives, every one of us is going to go through difficult experiences. Our things may not be as obvious (or hard) as an amputated leg or as lonely as a miscarriage, but we will all carry some degree of pain and suffering with us. It’s just a part of the human experience.

A week after my miscarriage, it all began to feel like a bad dream. Two weeks later it is becoming a bad memory – one that I’m thankful is already fading. I know that this probably won’t be the last hard experience I have, but for now I am grateful for the peace that has blanketed me and that there is hope for the future.