DISCLAIMER: Miscarriage and abortion are mentioned in this post. If you feel like this may upset you, please scroll on or read this post with a trusted friend or partner.
I don’t talk much about this, but Baby Bear is in fact a Rainbow Baby.
For anyone that may not know, a rainbow baby is a child conceived and born after the loss of a child.
I have lost two children in my life. One to an abortion that I did not want, but was forced and mentally abused into having. And a second to miscarriage. Both were extremely painful experiences. Physically, mentally and emotionally. Both were days (and following weeks) that I will never forget for as long as I live. But, like all painful experiences in life, they made me stronger in a lot of ways.
Losing two children, allows me to appreciate my daughter that much more. I live my life with her very intentionally. I watch her sleep. I trace the curve of her eyelashes with my gaze and count the hairs on her head. I watch her chest rise and fall, and I sigh in contentment when her little fingers wrap around one of mine.
Losing two children allows me to be grateful for what I have in ways that I cannot explain. In ways that someone who has never lost a child, could ever understand.
Miscarriage, forced abortion, still birth and infant death are all tragedies. Death of anyone at any age is a tragedy. And for some reason we celebrate the life of someone that lived many years, and mourn together. But when a woman loses a child, no matter how she loses it...too often the uncomfortable situation is swept under a rug and that woman is left to deal with it on her own.
“Oh, you can always try again.” Some people will say.
A sentiment that should be saved for something like a burnt lasagna. Not a miscarriage or pre birth death. Would they say that to someone that had just lost their spouse? I sure hope not...
“Well you made the choice to get an abortion. You can’t be sad about it now.”
Most will judge in an instance like this. Perhaps you are judging me right now. But that judgment and shaming only adds to the guilt of the woman who felt like she had no choice. The right choice in an impossible situation does not mean it was easy to make. But I can tell you, that no woman finds the procedure fun or views it as a the easy way out.
What may be even worse than poorly chosen words, is the silence. The avoiding looks. The whispers. The tiptoeing around. And unfortunately the truth is that there really isn’t anything to be said when a mother ( or father ) loses a child. No matter the gestation or live age of a child, that loss is still painful. And it’s nearly impossible to comfort or console.
I remember the day I miscarried.
My periods have always been painful. The cramps often debilitating to the point I can hardly move or breathe. But that morning they woke me from a deep sleep. All of the sudden, BAM. I was awake, hunched over in bed. I knew something was wrong. I was no where close to the beginning of my cycle. This was not a period, and no matter how painful it had been throughout the years of my life since I was twelve, this was worse.
In the same moment I realized I was having a miscarriage, I also realized that up until that moment, I had been pregnant. I had not been aware that my body had been creating a life until the moment it began rejecting it...and that is something I cannot find the words to describe. How can you mourn someone you didn’t even know you had?
I read an article once that said a woman’s body can take up to approximately six months to recover from a miscarriage. There was no estimation on how long it could take her mind to heal. Or the mind of her partner.
Both Papa Bear and I were devastated, and we didn’t know how to cope. We didn’t really feel comfortable reaching out to anyone. So we did what people tell you, you should do. We tried to recreate (replace) the life we lost. A fools errand that I do not recommend under any circumstances. That miscarriage had made both of us realize just how badly we wanted a family.
But the months went by, and every month we would cry when my cycle would begin again. It turned into torture, and we had to stop. We put a giant pause onto trying until after our wedding. We didn’t even really talk much about it.
Then finally, we were married. We moved into our apartment the same week. And we prepared ourselves to start a family. And for three more months, we tried and failed to conceive. The tests would come up negative or my period would show up on time or early, with a vengeance. I was ready to give up again. To throw in the towel. To just be content with being a couple while we had the time and space to do it.
Maybe we could go to Europe after all in the New Year. So; once again. We stopped trying. Or rather, we stopped worrying about trying. And wouldn’t you know it...within one week, I was pregnant. Seriously. I think the day that I decided I was going to stop obsessing about making a baby, is the day that Baby Bear was finally created. It was as if she was looking down on us from heaven. Yes, now they are ready for me.
My whole world changed a few weeks later when I peed on the stick early one morning and FINALLY got the answer we had been waiting years for. It wasn’t the first time I had gotten a positive reading, but it was the first time with someone who loved and supported me. And we never looked back.
I threw myself head first into pregnancy: I told a few trusted friends. Mama Wolff, & Mama Owl being the first to know. But I mostly kept it secret. See, as happy as we were, we were terrified of another miscarriage. And because of that we didn’t publicly announce the pregnancy for 16 weeks.
Of course, as you know everything worked out great. Baby Bear arrived safe and sound smack dab in the middle of summer. She was surrounded by love and excitement. And a little postpartum anxiety. (You can read about that journey in an earlier posts.)
But all in all, she was here. And our family was finally complete. I had a wonderful pregnancy and a successful birth. All was well.
But, now that she is here, it makes the lives I lost all the more real. And I still think about them sometimes. I have a tattoo for one of them (so far.) And I often wonder what they would have been like. But I take comfort that they are up they are somewhere, watching over their baby sister. And guiding me to appreciate every moment I have with her.
My rainbow baby is one of a kind. And she is my everything. The saying goes, that you don’t really know what you have until it’s gone. Well, I know what I have lost, and because of that I don’t take a single moment of the time I have as a mother for granted.
-Mama Bear 🐻