Welcome to Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month.
The time of year when we remember the lives of babies gone too soon.

The title of this post is in reference to the term rainbow baby, and in case you don’t know…

A rainbow baby is the healthy baby born after the loss of another due to miscarriage, stillbirth, or other natural causes.

The implication is that the healthy baby that is born is a bright rainbow following the painful storm of loss that the mother has previously lived through.

So in honour of this special awareness month and my own beloved losses, I’ll be sharing parts of my journey, as well as recommendations on how to tread around the topics of fertility, family planning, and loss.

Only by God’s grace have I carried three babies to term, birthed them with only minimal complications, and have had the privilege of watching them grow and thrive. You can read about my 3 babies here. But this motherhood journey has brought some hard lows as well.

My Seasons of Loss

It was in January of 2012 that I took my first ever pregnancy test. I was late, which is usually what prompts the taking of such tests, and was very surprised to find a second line appear on that stick.

The weeks that followed have since become a blur to me. I do remember floating through my daily routine a little out of touch with reality because of the sheer joy of expecting a baby.

Unfortunately within a few weeks, I had some spotting, and then quite quickly lost the baby. It all happened so fast. I was shocked and disillusioned and felt lost.

I took a few days off of work because the thought of pulling myself together to teach teenagers the fundamentals of a properly structured research paper had me bursting into tears. I remember sitting in our apartment on the fourth floor (no elevator!) buried in as many blankets as I could find, and watching Friends reruns with my eyes barely open from tears and exhaustion. I wasn’t even pregnant long enough for anyone to know – including my own body! But loss is loss. And sometimes your soul feels it more than any other part of you.

I wasn’t even pregnant long enough for anyone to know – including my own body! But loss is loss. And sometimes your soul feels it more than any other part of you.

Shortly after that loss, I was blessed with a second pregnancy which I carried to term. Yay! When I was about six months pregnant, the due date of my first pregnancy came and went. It was so very gracious of God to allow me the gift of a full womb as I mourned the loss of an empty one so recently.

My firstborn son was born on New Year’s Eve, just weeks before the one year anniversary of my miscarriage. Making it a very happy new year indeed.

Another season, another loss

Fast forward a few years, and I was now a mama to two boys who are 18 months apart. Shortly after my second son turned one, the desire grew in me to try for another baby again, and hopefully complete our little family with a third child.

Well a couple more years went by after that, and month after month of regular monthly cycles raged on. When you’re longing for a baby, being greeted monthly by your period is more devastating than the usual monthly cycle symptoms us women are already accustomed to managing.

I shared some of this in another post about the backstory of my tattoo, which you can read here. But the gist of it is this:

In October 2016, I received what I personally considered to be the opportunity of a lifetime. I was asked to speak at an annual women’s retreat that my former church was putting on. In attendance would be approximately 150 women, and I had the privilege of teaching from the scriptures, as well as weaving my own story throughout my talk.

I spent six months praying and preparing; researching and writing. It was life-giving. If you know me personally, you know how much I love this kind of work.

During those six months of behind the scenes prep, I had a late period and discovered I was expecting! It was a very, very happy day because, like I said, I was waiting and praying and hoping for another baby for about two years already.

Then, just ten days before I was scheduled to hop on a train for the eight hour ride east, I started spotting and cramping…

It was on the occasion of my husband’s birthday that I paid a visit to the emergency room, desperate for some hopeful news. I spent hours and hours there, just waiting. I was finally seen, and thankfully had an ultrasound that very day. A heartbeat was detected, but there was some concern about the baby’s placement. The technician and doctor were not overly alarmed so my mind was set at ease ever so slightly.

Spotting throughout pregnancy is normal and fairly common, right?

What was agonizing for me leading up to this big speaking engagement, was the lack of answers. I remember wishing I could just know either way.

Am I losing this baby? Will everything be fine? I was ten days away from departure and they just couldn’t tell me a thing. The most they could do was give me a follow up appointment and ultrasound.

Both were scheduled for literally the day after I was to get back from my weekend away.

It all just felt like the worst timing ever. I couldn’t understand how this could all be happening at once. I remember thinking:

If this could’ve just been the disappointment of another monthly cycle like I’d been getting for the past two years…. well I could deal with that! I could cope with that! I know how to do that, and manage that!

But that’s just not how it unfolded…

I spent the eight hour train ride mostly in tears. While I had originally planned to go over my notes and rehearse my talk inaudibly on the train, I couldn’t bring myself to pull out a single sheet of paper.

Everything I spent the last six month preparing felt like chalk in my mouth.

Of course by the time I arrived, I pulled it together and went over everything I worked so hard to prepare. And the Lord reminded me that He is still good, even in unknown circumstances.

I leaned into Jesus that weekend and was given the strength and courage to share openly from the heart. It was still really difficult, and I still spent the whole weekend bleeding and cramping and crying. But I did it.

Time to face the music

It was really comforting to have so many women pray over me that weekend – for strength and courage, but also for healing and restoration for my baby. Unfortunately, the day after I got home I was given the news I hoped I would never hear again: the baby no longer had a heartbeat and I would be passing the remains within a few days.

At home after countless tears, and more blood, contractions, and medication than I care to live through again, we said goodbye to what might have been.

What I didn’t expect following my loss was the darkness that enveloped me.

I had such a hard time with basic life functions.

• Getting out of bed
• Caring for my family
• Seeing other people

It was all so overwhelming to me.

As a pastor’s wife, I didn’t really have the luxury to just skip out on church. But it was hard for me to see people! So I’d arrive late and leave early in order to avoid any anxiety-inducing conversation. But mostly to avoid bursting into tears. There were a lot of tears.

All of this came as a surprise. I hadn’t gone through anything this dark with my first miscarriage. It was like I couldn’t control what my mind was thinking. Like my body was just along for this dark, sad ride. And I couldn’t stop it.

This may not be widely known, but besides normal emotional responses to loss, like sadness and grief, the body suffering through miscarriage goes through the same hormonal responses that it would after birthing a full-term baby.

So if pregnancy news was kept private in the first place, the loss is often suffered in silence. With chemical and hormonal imbalances taking over without the mother’s consent or even full awareness.

A new chapter…

After a few months of this, I finally started to feel like myself again.

• Being out in public didn’t feel like such a daunting task
• Attending play dates where babies were present no longer sent me into a choking panic
• And I was able to attend church again without fear of bursting into tears

The truth is, I was filled with hope.

The Lord was so patient with me, so faithful to me. An ever-present help in my time of trouble. Even when I didn’t know what to do with myself or just how to function. He always knew what I needed in Him, and His presence was enough.

He never pushed. He never made me feel guilty. I needed time to mourn and rest and I did just that in His presence. And He mourned with me, and that was enough. At some point I had to choose joy in my circumstance before I could really feel it again. But over time I did. And I’m really grateful.

It was about four months after my miscarriage that I found out I was pregnant again. This time with our second rainbow baby. We gave her the name Joy for her middle name and she fills our home everyday with just that.
Ok, and a little bit of sass, too.

Before I sign off, I thought it would be worth sharing a few practical things you could do for someone who’s grieving the loss of a pregnancy, stillborn, or infant.

Try to avoid asking: What can I do to help?
It puts a lot of pressure on the grieving mother to express a request or need when she may not have the capacity to do even that.

Instead, try these:

• I’d like to bring you a coffee, what’s your order?
• I’d like to drop off a meal for your family, which of these days works best for you?
• I’d like to watch your kids for a few hours, what time of day do you prefer?
• Drop off gift cards for groceries, restaurants, manicures, etc.
• Flowers, if they like them
• Chocolate, always
• etc

*Frankly, this can apply to any scenarios where a loved one is grieving or just having a rough go.

**If you’re in a season of grief, and none of these appeal to you because you’d rather be left alone, then give yourself permission to say so when people get up in your business! I’m married to someone who wants his space when he’s going through a hard time, I’m the opposite! And both are totally fine.

Bonus tips!

I know I’ve been guilty of these myself. But my own experiences have made me more sensitive to these conversations. Learn from my mistakes!

• Don’t comment on a woman’s weight fluctuation
  This should be painfully obvious, but weight gain does not always = baby!
  And weight loss isn’t always welcomed. A woman struggling with infertility may have suffered a loss.
  The stress and strain of conceiving can also cause weight fluctuation.
  It’s just a sensitive topic all around!
  Life hack: if you need to say something, tell her she smells good!
  You’re welcome.
  
• Don’t ask a couple if they’re trying for a baby, or their second, or third, etc.
  You’re basically asking someone if they’re having unprotected sex.
  Is that really the conversation you want to have over Thanksgiving dinner aunt Berta? Let me answer that for you, NO IT IS NOT!
  If a couple wants to volunteer that information and is open to discussing it, then by all means… otherwise, you just don’t really know what struggle or pain you’re triggering in someone’s very intimate and personal relationship.
  

If you’re reading this and grieving your own loss, my heart breaks for you and I’m really sorry for what you’re going through.
May you take comfort, as I did, in knowing that God sees you, loves you, and grieves with you.

From my experience, there’s no quick fix to healing from a loss. But allowing people into your journey makes it much less lonely. If you’d like to talk through any of this, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I’d love to hear from you!

Lastly, if you’d like to share your thoughts, comments, or questions, send me a message or comment below!