I have really mixed feelings about this concept. I love the thought behind it- but I really think that it sometimes gives the idea that the "rainbow baby" is a replacement for the loss. Or that Micah was a storm. Micah will NEVER be replaced- and he was not just a storm. He is our second born- my second son, and this baby will be our third born son. Micah has his place in my heart, and this baby has its own. They are separate. I feel like referring to this baby as my rainbow baby somehow links the two of them together, and while they are brothers, and we will all be together again- this baby has its own identity- very separate from Micah.
That brings me to the reason I'm writing this. I went back and forth so many times on whether or not to write this post. I was hesitant on sharing this blog in the first place, but was overwhelmed by all the feedback from not only loved ones, but complete strangers. With that said, it's always cathartic for me to keep my feelings out on paper, so after deleting and rewriting this a dozen times, here goes.
I can't seem to separate this pregnancy from the trauma of the lasts.
Not only did we lose our second son in the third trimester, but we knew there was a chance we wouldn't be bringing him home from the hospital. We didn't prepare to bring him home. We knew he'd at least have some NICU time and that's when we'd have a better idea and could prepare. No nursery, no baby shower, no list of items needed, nothing. My body continued to change and Micah continued to grow, but we never planned to bring him home. I knew I couldn't deal with coming home to an empty nursery after giving birth to our son, and then leaving a hospital with empty arms and a temporarily empty heart. Nothing will ever compare to bring wheeled out of the hospital, still with a bulging belly after birth, with flowers and cards, being "parked" next another woman who gave birth just like me. The difference- her baby got to go home. My arms were empty. I got a look from her like, "are you forgetting something"? I'll never forget that moment or that look.
Here I am with 3 months and change before this baby is scheduled to arrive. I can't seem to shake the feeling of not bringing him home again. I don't live my daily life in anxiety, instead I'm ironically kinda laid back about this pregnancy from a medical standpoint. I share any concerns at each appointment, but don't dwell on them in between appointments. I trust my doctor and I trust my God. My faith will get me through- this I know.
You see, I've said this many times before, but Micah was never just a bad thing to happen to me. He was one of the best things- and that's why it tears me up knowing that I don't have him here for now. My journey with Micah brought me closer than ever to God. I have 100% faith and KNOW that I will be reunited with him again for the rest of eternity. It didn't start like that- I took it for granted that we'd be together again one day. I did know that even if there was the smallest chance that I would ever see him again, I needed to live my life accordingly. No more taking Heaven for granted. Very, very different situations, but we suffered a very early miscarriage back in February of this year. I've had two losses now- one where I got to hold my baby in my arms and pass him around to my family. Why wouldn't it happen again?
Here I am now. After going through 7 months of Micah's pregnancy without preparing, even thought at this point, everything looks great with this baby- it's just so hard for me to prepare. I feel like I'm distancing myself from this pregnancy in order to protect my heart. In reality- I love this baby just as I have with my other two- whole-heartedly. There is no way in disputing that.
When you join the club no one wants to belong to, the club of moms who had to bury their babies, you hear hundreds of stories of other moms who had to, or came close to having to bury their babies. The one that won't stop eating at me is the one where perfectly healthy babies passed away shortly after birth, or at the end of pregnancy due to an accident- umbilical cord accident, heart just stopped, so many horrendously tragic situations. I can't shake that. I can't shake that it could happen to me. Why wouldn't it happen again?
Justin's birth was not smooth. We found out that he had holes in his heart (they later healed on their own after he was born), and after he had been measuring ahead of the curve for nearly the whole pregnancy, my fundal height went from 2 weeks ahead, to 1 ahead, to right on track, to one week behind. I had a bad feeling and at 38 weeks I asked my OB to send me for a measuring ultrasound to check on him. I went on a Wednesday afternoon after leaving work and they did a Biophysical Profile Ultrasound- Justin looked great. I took a sigh of relief. I asked how he was measuring and I was told that they didn't measure him- they didn't see it on the order from my OB. I don't typically speak my mind during pregnancy- especially not my first pregnancy. I've never done this before, so I put full trust in my doctors to monitor my pregnancy- they are far more knowledgeable than me. I definitely felt strongly that I needed to advocate for Justin and they agreed to do the measurement first thing the next morning. Matt and I got dressed for work that day and went to get the ultrasound appointment. We found out that the placenta had started to calcify and that Justin was no longer getting the nutrition he needed to survive. They said I needed to deliver him that day. We went to the hospital and I ended up with a c-section. Justin was not breathing at birth. He was blue. Dozens of people rushed in and they were able to resuscitate him. I later found out that the cord was partially wrapped around his neck. During the surgery something happened with me- Matt heard a loud pop and blood started squirting- more people rushed in. I still don't know exactly what happened, but while freaking out about our son who was being resuscitated, we were also freaking out that I was going to bleed out. Obviously I'm still here, it didn't end up being anything very serious, and Justin is a perfectly healthy wild child so while a very traumatic and nerve-wracking situation- everything worked out.
Still... I've never given birth to a crying baby.
Losing Micah softened my heart, I love harder, I care deeper, I'm so much more empathic. I think I'm a better mother, and definitely a better Christian. I lost Micah for a few years of my earthly life, but gained so much more. I prayerfully gained a spot in Heaven because of losing him.
I've heard from so many parents profusely thanking me for sharing our story. There was a severely depressed mother who couldn't make sense of what she experienced. She felt alone. She felt empty. She said my words filled her with the hope needed to go on- to "Let Go and Let God". Oh, how I wish I could fully heed my own advice. I have so many similar stories, but hers will forever hold a special place in my heart. I didn't know her- I have no way of contacting her. It was a anonymous note to me. I truly gained so much more than I lost. How do I know I don't have more to gain, and that God's plan isn't going through this again and laying another son to rest. Why wouldn't it happen again?
While the rational side of me knows how unlikely this is, and how there would be nothing I could do to control something out of my control, I'm still having the hardest time with this pregnancy. My last two deliveries were not smooth- obviously one worked out better than the other. I have had a lot of physical issues this pregnancy- very sick at the beginning, now I'm usually only getting sick once a day. I end up eating most of my calories at night when I'm feeling better than I have all day and finally starving, catching up from the rest of the day. My energy level is insanely low. Not just I'm a little tired, but I end up overexerting myself super easily. Five minutes of putting away clothes, and I need a breather. If I don't listen to my body- I pay for it later. I was forcing myself to workout thinking it would make me feel better, and I ended up worse than before. I almost passed out after only a prenatal yoga workout- very low impact- it should not have done that to me. It's just been hard.
I can't wait to hold this baby in my arms, and take him home, and everything to be OK. I want to have the energy and the motivation to start planning to bring our baby boy home. To figure out everything we need to purchase again (my goodness how things change with baby gear in 4 years). Most of all- I wish my innocence with pregnancy had not been stolen from me. I wish I could be pregnant and not see anything else happening other than bringing a baby home with us. I'm just ready for my happily ever after.