December 7, 2013:
Had I not lost my previous pregnancy, I would be 21 weeks now, and I would most likely know if my baby was a boy or a girl. We'd be calling him or her by name. I'd be shopping and making plans. I'd be sharing pregnancy stories with my pregnant friends who are due within weeks of when I should have been.
Everything happens for a reason, they say. I know this to be true. For if everything above were occuring, I wouldn't be sitting here at this moment, five weeks pregnant with our rainbow baby, feeling more blessed than I can describe.
As I write this, I know no one would see this for some time. I am not ready to share our news just yet, not after being so naive before and never realizing that a miscarriage can, indeed, happen to anyone. No one is exempt. Until I see and hear a heartbeat and can see that tiny but incredibly alive bean on the screen, I will not be ready.
I didn't hear the term "rainbow baby" until earlier this year, before I was even pregnant with our angel baby, and I didn't realize the significance it would have in my life until after we lost it. A rainbow is a sign of hope and promise, the beauty after the storm. Our rainbow baby is the light and hope at the end of a painful and grievous loss.
The Bible teaches that we should always be in a state of thanksgiving even in the darkest, bleakest, and hardest of times. "In everything, give thanks," is a scripture I often remember when I'm feeling as though the world is out to get me. Someone, somewhere will always have it worse than I do, no matter what I'm facing, and I am so incredibly thankful for God's blessings in my life, from the "big" things like my family, my health, and His provision...to the small things we often don't consider like gas in my car, food in my cabinets, and heat in my home. God sent me a big, fat reminder to show gratitude when I got a positive pregnancy test on Thanksgiving Day.
December 31, 2013:
It is now the last day of the year, a new year upon us, and I am now nine weeks along, the baby not even as big as my heart yet but who has stolen every part of it. This past Friday, December 27, we had our first trimester ultrasound, where we saw our sweet raspberry-sized miracle, whose heart was fluttering away at rapid speed. The way babies are created and formed and change and grow is in itself miraculous, and no matter how many children I may have, it never ceases to amaze me. After this, we feel ready to share our news, and we decided to make it publicly known (in today's society, that means making it "Facebook official") on New Year's Eve.
January 31, 2014:
Now nearly fourteen weeks along and beginning my second trimester, I'd be lying if I said I didn't worry every day that something could go wrong and that we could lose our baby. Even though I have no history of pregnancy complications, and my miscarriage was a common occurrence, a fluke even, I worry. As morbid as it may sound, every time I go to the bathroom, I check for blood. Every ache and pain that is even remotely close to my abdomen sends me into a worried frenzy that something is wrong. I sound like a crazy person, but according to the many women who have been through miscarriages and even my doctor, this is completely normal.
I am currently in a state of limbo, so to speak, meaning that my first trimester symptoms have started to diminish (like the morning sickness, etc.), which was reassuring that things were normal, but I am not quite far along enough to feel movement from the baby, which is an obvious good sign of a healthy, growing baby. I have been tempted to buy a fetal heart rate monitor just to give myself peace of mind, but not only are they pretty costly, I also run the risk of not being able to locate the heartbeat myself, and then I'd be worrying (most likely unnecessarily) and be "that patient" who calls and freaks out to the doctor only to be told everything is fine.
It definitely did not help things when, at my last prenatal appointment three weeks ago, the doctor was unable to locate the heartbeat with the doppler. I know this is very normal because the absolute earliest you can detect the heartbeat with the fetal doppler is ten weeks, and I was just a few days past that. The doctor even forewarned me before he attempted it that it was very possible we wouldn't be able to hear it. But I still was disappointed and worried when he couldn't, and I shed some tears. Tears of worry for this little one inside me, and tears in remembrance of the grief for the one I lost just a few months before, whose heartbeat I never got to see or hear.
Next Thursday is my next appointment with my ob, where he should certainly be able to detect the baby's heartbeat. After this, I will be reassured again. I will (hopefully) feel more at ease. And in the coming weeks, I will wait patiently for the first kicks, and it will be indescribable. With every kick, every jab, and every movement, it will be as if my baby is saying, "Hey, Mom. Chill out. Relax. I'm ok."
Maybe then I'll feel a little less like a crazy person.
