Chasing Rainbows

"So are you going to try again?", "What about your frozen babies?", "Do you have plans for the future?". A month or so after I lost our Son Hugo, these were the questions I was fielding. Typing the questions now, I can think of the witty comebacks I could have responded with: "nope, no plans for the future, I think I'll just sit in a corner and breath until my days are done". At the time though all I could think was can we just slow this train down, I want to be sick.

Without going into a lengthy recollection, my Husband and I have been trying to have baby (here on earth) for seven years in August this year. Our road has been scary, emotionally devastating, and financially burdensome. Our youthfulness has been snatched away before our eyes. We have gone through countless fertility treatments, surgeries and IVF, and because of this we have our Angel Son Hugo, and our two Early Loss Angels Star & Sprout.

In the loss community there is a lot of talk of the joy of "Rainbow Babies", and in the wider community there is a lot of talk of "trying again". These topics can be very difficult for those for those trying and praying for a miracle, and for those who are not able to try again.

"Rainbow Babies is the understanding that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm. When a rainbow appears, it doesn't mean the storm never happened or that the family is not still dealing with its aftermath. What it means is that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy and hope." -Author Unknown

I particularly like this description for one reason: it doesn't have to relate to a baby. It is hard to find joy in life, when your heart is clouded in darkness following the loss of your child, a darkness almost indescribable. For those of us who don't have a rainbow baby, or a child before loss, our lives becomes very much about trying to fill the void.

For the first 18 months after we lost Hugo, I refused to consider the concept of trying again. I have a beautiful relationship with my little boy in Heaven, why would I risk my life again, or more importantly why would I risk another babies life. It is only in the past six months I have been able to consider our options, and make a plan forward in to try again. I wish it was as easy as just wanting a rainbow baby, that the desire itself would bring it to fruition. Unfortunately there are no guarantees. I find myself preparing for the possibility of a life without children here on earth, and part of that preparation is finding rainbows in my life. I am not blessed with one rainbow but many. I have been gifted in my grief, the experience of genuine friendship- for me this is a rainbow. I have been blessed with the opportunity to work in the bereavement community in memory on my Son- for me this is a rainbow. I have been blessed with my two beautiful dogs who are my daily companions- for me this is a rainbow. What I'm trying to say is: hope for a brighter future does not have to lie only with having another child.

Be encouraged that you are not alone in your journey. That you are very much a mother, and a parent. While your children are not in your arms, they cannot be taken from your heart. Perhaps if you quite your soul, and look around you may just be able to find a bright and beautiful rainbow.

You Are Not Alone (Guest Post: Larissa From Love Is Deeper Still)

If there is one thing I wish every bereaved mummy and daddy knew, it is this: you are not alone.

We found out our baby had no heartbeat on a Monday, she was born on a Wednesday and on Thursday we came home. Although my husband and I had great support from my two midwives, our families and our pastor, I don’t know that I’ve ever felt as alone as I did on that Thursday night. Driving away from the hospital with the empty capsule in the back seat and arriving home to an empty cot just intensified the loneliness that was swirling around in my head. Not only was my baby gone, but I had so many reminders that despite my heart being full of love, my arms were empty. That Thursday night, I felt so very alone.

But the next day, I realised that I actually wasn’t alone; the baby loss community, that I was now a part of, would always be there for me. My sister’s friend had set aside a toy rabbit to send us when our baby was born. Although Ariella was stillborn, she still sent the rabbit and it arrived, along with atouching card, the day after we got home from the hospital.We were home on Thursday night, the rabbit arrived on Friday morning, before I’d even gotten out of bed. This lady had alsoexperienced the death of a baby, and she knew that my arms would need something to hold while I was grieving myAriella’s death. That rabbit received more cuddles than I ever would have anticipated, and was often fetched by my husband before being snuggled in my arms and helping calm my tears.

Some people may hesitate to send a gift after a baby’s death, but not a loss mumma. They know what you need; you are not alone.

Some people may not mention your precious one’s name, but not the baby loss community. They know it is music to your ears; you are not alone.

As time goes on, people may not mark a sweet little girl’s birthday or a handsome boy’s anniversary, but those who have lost a baby will. They know those days are so important; you are not alone.

If you’ve had a miscarriage, an ‘incompatible with life’ diagnosis, a stillbirth or a neonatal death, you are not alone. I know it feels like it at times, I know the heart wrenching, lonely cries from the depths of your soul. I know that my words won’t fix anything, but I also know this: you are not alone.

You can visit Larissa's Blog at http://loveisdeeperstill.blogspot.com.au