I looked up at my Doctor, and said, ‘There should be a flutter in that beautiful space. There isn’t.”
– You’ll Always Be Our Rainbow
One year ago today, I was at a routine check-up for my “rainbow” pregnancy. It was the first appointment I had while being in the second trimester. A few months prior, we had experienced the loss of Tiny One. I was scared and had a motherly instinct that something wasn’t right. However, I needed to believe that lightning wouldn’t strike twice in a row.
Less than a week before, I had felt the first kick and it had made me cry with relief that the baby was letting me know he was doing okay. Little did I know at the time that it was his kick to say goodbye to his Mommy.
What feels like the longest moments of my life can be summed up in just a few seconds as I type or speak. Our beautiful Rainbow Peanut is gone.
It breaks my heart to relive every second of the two days in which I got the confirmation ultrasound, the medication to be induced, felt contractions, gave birth, and lost the feeling of having my Son in my arms as I sang and spoke to him.
Even though tears flow as I type this, it needs to be done. Some readers were uncomfortable with how much I shared about our loss. While I can understand that it is not an easy topic to share, he was still my Son. He will forever be a big part of my life. Ever since the first time I whispered to him, “Your existence. Your life. It matters.”, I have been devoted to keeping his memory alive. There needed to be some light shining through all of this darkness.
Since That Day…
I have tried to focus on and appreciate the moments that were not absolutely devastating. Moments such as being with my parents who have always been a source of strength for me. Moments spent with the kind nurses and doctors who fight through their own pain on a daily basis; who continue to be so kind to their patients. Without each of them being there for me for even a few moments, I don’t know where I would be today.
My Son Liam had saved my life before, but after two losses, I truly look at him a thousand times a day and thank whatever power brought him to me. I think of the individuals who don’t have that kind of savior in their lives. I think of those who struggle through their attempts of having children, or who have lost children that are meant to remain in their arms.
My heart aches. While I can offer a shoulder, or ears to listen, I know it’s hard for anyone to truly understand. It’s a unique experience for each person. If you’ve been in my shoes, or in a similar situation, please know that you are not alone.
Much Has Changed
The person I was before this loss is not the person I am today. I changed after Tiny One. It was at the point where my inner self was confused as to who they were meant to be; what they were supposed to do. Experiencing another loss just made me doubt everything about myself even more. I felt lost. With support from family and friends, I made the changes that needed to occur.
I am not ashamed to say that I sought help.
I am so grateful for the therapist who is now a major chapter of my story. We laughed and cried together. We related to one another, and she showed me how important it was for me to leave a situation that was toxic. I needed to be the best Mommy I could be and where I was before was not going to allow that to happen. She made me realize over the course of 10 sessions, that the techniques she showed me to try to resolve certain situations were not working. I was tired, drained, and I had had enough.
Time for a Change
I will not get into the full details as it is a personal situation to more than just myself. However, it all started with me not wanting to be another statistic. I always thought that losing one or more children would make a couple strengthen their support for one another. Unfortunately, that was not the case for me.
I did not want to lose a relationship due to our losses. Except, the father of our babies did not want to be there as I gave birth. At first, I understood. I needed someone to be there for my son and watch him as I was in the hospital. However, my parents offered to watch our Son and he still refused to be with me. My world changed in a matter of seconds without me even realizing it right away.
“Being there would make it too real for me”, he had said. I will never forget those words. It WAS real. I did not have the option of checking out of the situation. It was awful, but we can’t always run away from the worst moments of your life. Be present. Feel the pain. Learn. Grow. Empathize.
I gave him chances to say goodbye to his Son. The hospital offered to have us say goodbye one last time the next morning so he could see him, and he said no. I lost more time with my Son because I tried to make the Father more comfortable and not push anything. That is all my fault. I do not blame anyone for that. I regret not asking for more time with him, but I am so thankful for every second I did have.
Grief is Life-Changing
I acknowledge the fact that people handle things differently. They should be allowed to do what they have to do. For me, that experience changed everything. I needed a partner, a friend, and support, and I got that from everyone except the person I needed it from the most.
He now says it is one of his biggest regrets and to this day, I continuously try to empathize. (In no way do I mean that the one not carrying the baby does not feel pain. They feel as much pain as any other party involved). It is simply the fact that each person has their breaking point, and that crossed a line that I didn’t even think existed.
I tried for months to overlook what had happened. His support was appreciated (whenever I got it), but that day changed everything. No matter how much I fought it- everything was different.
I have not told many people about what happened, or what has happened since our relationship began to dissolve. I kept things very private for several months. Writing even a fraction of what happened is scary. It’s also a bit of a relief to be letting go of the past and moving on to the future.
I hope anyone else who has been or is in my situation knows that you deserve to be happy. Even if people make you feel otherwise. You may still blame yourself for the loss of your baby or babies, but it is not your fault. Do not let your guilt override your feelings of self-worth. You may look up one day and realize you’ve been left in a place that you don’t feel comfortable in.
Saying Goodbye Again
For Tiny One, we never received notification of the burial date or what would happen in terms of any type of ceremony. My social worker at the time of the loss of Rainbow Peanut was shocked and felt terrible. She went out of her way to make sure I was notified of the ceremony this time. The envelope with the details was addressed to me in her handwriting and it touched my heart.
With everything going on, having a small detail like having her handwriting on the envelope meant so much to me. I received it several months after the loss and I had been healing within that time. Simply seeing the return address and knowing what the envelope contained made me shake. I went five steps back once again just by checking the mail.
The ceremony was held the day before the Father of the babies moved out. It was an already emotional time, and the nature of the day made it elevated. To summarize how intense it got that morning, I was told by the Father to “Kill myself to make the world a better place”.
For a very long time, I have not wanted to share this piece of information with people I did not trust, especially not in a public manner such as this. I also do not want to disrespect/embarrass the one who said it. I have my own faults too, and I am also to blame for how things ended. It’s messy, it’s uncomfortable but it is also part of my life, my story, and the day that I will never forget.
I truly did not know how to feel.
I felt shocked, taken aback, and deeply saddened. Most of all, I was upset that on a day on which I wanted to focus solely on my children, I had to hear those words.
I called the social worker, Alexis, and my therapist while hyperventilating and I explained what happened. I didn’t know if I should go with him to the ceremony after those words were said. But there was no way I was going to miss it. Missing this ceremony was not an option. Once again, they both guided and helped me.
As I showered and got ready, I played the song that always made me think of the babies, “Happier” by Marshmello featuring Bastille. The song has followed me ever since the loss and it made me feel like I had to be strong.
On a day that started off as draining, I used the rest of my energy to push those words to the back of my mind. I inhaled, and it felt like I didn’t exhale for the rest of the day. The first breath I remember taking was after the ceremony was over. I said “It’s not goodbye, it’s ‘see you later'” to the babies, and exhaled.
The ceremony itself was beautiful.
Mourning parents all together surrounding the plot where our babies lay… it was overwhelming. My social worker was there and gave me an extra-long hug. She made eye contact with me several times. I know without a doubt that she is one of the bright lights in the darkness of this situation.
Beautiful words were said and beautiful music was played by a live artist. She performed “The Rose” by Bette Midler, and it made me cry instantly. The lyrics to that song will never be the same to me. It was a windy day and the parents helped keep the candles we received lit. We were all there for our babies but also for each other. It was beautiful.
There were many times when I would speak to the babies. Most of the time, I would ask them to send me a sign that they were together and okay. The tombstone has a butterfly on it, and that was one of many signs for me that day. Butterflies had always been important and special to me. Seeing it engraved, watching over the little ones made me smile.
We waited for the other parents to have their time at the grave site. Soon, we were the last ones there. Liam walked up and gave the babies a drawing he had made, along with a letter I had written. I’ve thought about that letter a lot these days. As it was placed, I hadn’t thought of the natural elements such as the rain or wind. I hadn’t thought of how they would soak the envelope, the art, or my words. I know it’s silly to think about since it’s not like they will even see the words. However, it reminds me that it’s not about what they will or will not see. It’s about the love, the energy and the thoughts we keep of them that matter.
I Couldn’t Move
We took photos of all of us. They would be the official last photos of all of us all together. While the Father watched Liam, I had my one-on-two time with the babies. I softly brushed my hands on the blades of grass. I had to tell myself not to pull it all out as I dug my way at the dirt to be closer to them. Being there and knowing I would have to leave felt like I was losing them all over again.
I spoke to them and asked for another sign that they were playing and laughing together. There was then a huge gust of wind. A child who had been visiting a nearby site with family ran by laughing. I exhaled.
The Father of the babies had quickly muttered an apology for his words in the car on the way there. He also proceeded to put his hand on my shoulder each time I began to sob during the ceremony. He treated me very delicately the entire time, and right before we left, I hugged him. I wholeheartedly that I was sorry for everything. I had hoped that would be the end of any animosity.
The New “Normal”
It has been three months since the ceremony and a little bit over a week since the anniversary. It feels like a lifetime. I have been writing this post for a long time. It has not been easy to share and even harder to type the words out. The babies are never far from my thoughts. While many aspects of their stories is sad, just them simply existing has brought me so much joy.
Every pregnancy announcement and every gender reveal. Every mention of a baby, and baby loss. Any moment in even something as small as a TV show that references being alone in hard situations…
No matter how tiny of a moment, they always make me think of the days I lost the little ones and there are times when I crumble. It honestly gets to be frustrating. I am constantly getting mad at myself for crying so often and not being “over” it to a better extent. However, there is no “getting over it” and you shouldn’t feel forced into it. There is simply doing the best you can every single day.
People continue to reach out and be kind.
From getting picture frames done in their honor and wooden angel figures, to kind words such as us being in peoples’ thoughts. A dear friend of ours lost their beautiful baby, Lenora, and for her first birthday they put photos up of all the angel baby friends she had who were with her celebrating elsewhere. All 130 of them. It is all so appreciated.
As for me, I’m in a better mindset even with the times when memories flash before my eyes that make my heart stop every single day. I am lucky to have people in my life who keep my heart beating. Liam, the babies, family, and friends.
I wanted to finish this post with wise words but once again they would not do situations such as these justice. I’ll simply say to my beautiful babies that I miss you, and I love you. Liam and I jumped in puddles, laughed, and danced in the rain on your birthday, Rainbow Peanut. Thank you both for being my rainbows during every storm.
‘ “Some say, “Love. It is a hunger
An endless aching need”
I say, “Love. It is a flower
And you its only seed” ‘
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