Recently I have come across lots of references to "rainbow babies" --- those babies who are conceived and carried and born after a lost baby. A rainbow after the storm.
Rainbow babies are greatly treasured ... of course. Not just because they are rainbow babies, but also because they are special and beautiful babies all by themselves.
It seems to me that rainbow babies are often coveted. Coveted by those babylost mamas who are often desperate to hold a child in their arms after their loss -- and are desperate to conceive as soon as possible after their loss.
I'm writing this because I know how those babylost mamas feel. I am one of those babylost mamas. In fact, I'm a twice-over babylost mama. I've had these feelings. I've wanted desperately to conceive as soon as possible after I lost Freyja. And then again after I lost Kees.
I had many covetous thoughts during the time following my losses, but before I managed to convince my husband that we should try to conceive again. (It took me about 8 months each time to convince my husband that we should try to conceive another baby.) I was jealous of every pregnant woman I saw. Or heard of. Even other babylost mamas who became pregnant.
I was jealous of everyone. I couldn't look at mums on the street without wanting to scream "WHY?" Why me???
I was a green-eyed monster.
Don't think that the jealousy has just gone away. Oh no. It's still there. Whenever I see mums or dads or families -- with one child, or two, or even three these days.
I am a mum to two children - who should be living. They should be living with me. They should be poking my belly now and speaking to their little baby brother. I should be deprived of sleep because of my two young children. I should have a 16 month old toddler getting under my feet and a near 3 year old (next month is her third birthday) telling me what she wants to watch on tv. That should be my life. My family.
Instead I'm consumed with jealousy. Of other people and their families. And I am filled with RAGE that I don't have my family. That I've been deprived of all those normal family things that everyone else complains about -- as if I should be grateful that I get an uninterrupted night's sleep. Right. (By the way, I usually don't get an uninterrupted night's sleep -- the death of your children does that to you.)
And these are all reasons why babylost mamas yearn for their rainbow baby. They yearn for a baby to hold in their arms. To love. To marvel over. To be a parent to. Because although I love my daughter Freyja and my son Kees -- so so much -- I will never be able to marvel over them again and I will never be able to parent them again. They are a part of my past, and they form a part of my present, but they are not a part of my future. Only a rainbow baby can be a part of my future.
But sometimes a rainbow baby is not the answer. A pregnancy after a loss is not the answer. A pregnancy after a loss will often give us a reason to hope again ... it will give us a reason to look to the future ... but sometimes rainbow babies don't turn out to be rainbow babies after all.
Because rainbow babies are supposed to live. They're supposed to be the calm and beauty and the promise after the storm. But sometimes they're not.
My son Kees was my rainbow baby. My daughter Freyja was stillborn on 25 July 2006. For no reason. I wanted to conceive another baby immediately. But my husband did not. He was worried about me. He was worried what another loss might do to me. He was worried that another loss might destroy his wife ... But I managed to convince him. I convinced him that nothing would go wrong with our rainbow baby. That the pregnancy would be fine. That we would be fine. Oh, how wrong I was.
My son Kees was conceived in our third month of trying. I had a good pregnancy with him ... except for the anxiety and fear I had. He was induced at 37 weeks and was born a healthy 3.5 kg baby. And he was the light of our lives -- our beautiful rainbow baby boy. Until he unexpectedly died when he was seven weeks old.
Sometimes rainbow babies are not the answer. I don't know what the answer is, but sometimes a rainbow baby is not it.
If there are babylost mamas out there who are envious of me -- because I'm PREGNANT -- think again -- and maybe direct your envy towards someone more deserving of it.
I dare anyone to want to walk a day in my shoes -- even those who think they'll do anything to be pregnant.
A pregnancy -- every pregnancy -- is special. But not all pregnancies end with calm and beauty and promise. Some end in absolute tragedy. You know when you think you've hit rock bottom? When you think that your life could not possibly be worse? Well -- I can tell you now -- it could be.
I am, and probably will always be, jealous of mums on the street. Of those mums and dads who got to keep their babies. Of those mums and dads who got to see their babies grow up. Who got to take their babies to kindergarten and to school and who got to teach them to ride a bike and to drive a car. Oh yes, that jealousy will never go away. I will never get to do any of those things with my firstborn, Freyja, and with her rainbow baby brother, Kees.
Today I am 29 weeks pregnant with my third child. My second son. My final child. He's not a rainbow baby. I don't think there's a description for a third baby after the first two babies have died.
But I'm not counting on calm and beauty and promise.
I just want him to live. I just want to be a mum to him. I want to cuddle him. I want to hear his first word. I want to see him take his first steps. I want to see and do and experience all those things that other families get to experience.
I just want Craig and me and this little baby boy to be a family.
8 comments:
why do so many people think that us humans can control life and through a mixture of medical advances and pure blind ignorance that they don't embrace the fact that for baby loss mamas "a rainbow baby" doesn't mean that all will be fixed and all ok...it takes sheer bravery and courage in which I see in you to embark on this trecherous journey as what I see as not the rainbow for you but moreso the ultimate pot of boundless treasure in the form of love that you both have, that pot in which you will value so much more than those that haven't walked in your shoes....that treasure that you have in which is growing by the day is the treasure that has potential to shine and sparkle and have such a profound impact on both you and Craig which you both so deserve..you already have such bountiful love for both Freya and Kees and all I hope and want to carry that strong belief that you and Craig deserve to watch your bounty grow and grow Loux
I have told friends (in real life) that I read your blog and they tell me I'm nuts. "Why would you read that, you'll only scare yourself." And it is because I don't want to shy away. This baby to me is just as special as your Kees was (is). And I know this baby is not a given. I read here because I don't want to be ignorant to pain and suffering and Mirne, from all the hundreds of stories I read, yours has broken my heart the most. That probably makes you feel crap, as this is not a competition you want to win.
Even though I have only lost the one baby, I still hear you on every word you say. I am still a green eyed monster. I spent the day with three 18 month olds yesterday - kids to some of my best friends, but it still rips my heart out. They are all first borns and so was my Hope. They have done so, so much in their short lives already, and have so much ahead of them. While I got nothing. Nothing. I don't know how the sheer awfulness of it all doesn't just make my own heart stop beating.
One of those friends is now preg with twins. And I'm over the moon for her, but all I can think is "two pregnancies, three babies". While in all liklihood, I'll have to survive two pregnacies just to get one. It is so unfair!
29 weeks is good Mirne. You are really getting there my friend, and this baby while possibly not a rainbow is maybe in fact a Diamond Baby. I don't know, but I feel we need a much more special term for this baby of yours and exactly what it is you are doing on this very brave journey (and I know the word brave can suck, but you really are Mirne. You and Craig both are).
I am 'proud' to have met you. I admire your strength and your survival. In the same way as I guess other's have said that I am 'so strong' etc. And in the same way as I hate those words, you probably do to, because we are not strong. We are only women. And we are only doing what we do because we can't find a suitable alternative.
Yesterday at the OB's the mw said to me 'great, so we'll probably see you back here next month with twins' (because I have just started fertility drugs). My response was 'don't say that. That's all I need.' How negative. Thankfully it's a high risk specialist Ob, so she understood, but it has played over in my mind since then, about how negative that must sound. But to me, as much as I want to be expecting, and as much as I do envy those who are already on the journey (it's more about feeling sad for me though, than envy for others), I am very fearful of it, the journey too. I have never been comfortable with the word 'rainbow' baby. I just need a take home sibling for Ciaran.
Love to you Mirne.
p.s. And you know something I love about you? No glossing. Honesty. You have supported me since we first met way back in october, with straight forward honesty all the way. xxx
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I'm so jealous of those moms, and those pregnant bellies. I wish I could be one of those moms who complained they never get anything done because the kids take too much of their time.
I hope you get to have your third baby, to watch him walk, hear him talk, to love and hold.
xoxo
I posted last night at 3 am but I must have screwed it up. Just wanted to tell you that I get it, Mirne, I really do. I think about your beautiful Freyja and Kees all the time. I think of the strength I KNOW it took for you to try again and I know that both of us will never ever take anything as a given. But we still hope and we still want.
That being said, I wish for the things that you want to do with this baby to happen. I want you to watch him grow up and live a wonderful life.
xxxx
I'm so sorry to that Freyja and Kees aren't here with you. You'd think that after a loss, you'd be immune from further pain and tragedy. I'll never figure out why some have to endure more than others. It makes no sense whatsoever.
Hello Mirne - I've been thinking about this post so much over the last couple of days. I'm still not sure what I want to say.
How much I respect you and Craig.
How much I wish that there didn't have to be a description for a baby born after your first two children have died.
That life doesn't make any sense.
That I wouldn't dare to walk a day in your shoes.
I had my 'rainbow' baby about 20 minutes after my first baby and held her in my arms about ten days after her sister died. But I didn't know she was my rainbow baby. I thought she was going to die too.
It's never simple.
I'll always be jealous too and God knows I have far less right than you.
That I want all those 'wants' in the last two paragraphs to be fulfilled. For you and Craig. And for the little boy who is coming to meet such wonderful parents. xx
I wish there was a word to express how moved I am by your journey. I wish there was a word for this baby you're carrying now. Love, maybe. It's the only one that even comes close, I think.
HUGS, mama. Lots of them.
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