It’s Not All Sunshine
My Rainbow Baby Pregnancy
Written by Lauren Samson
I’m not sure who came up with the term “rainbow baby”. I guess I can understand the intention of using a rainbow to describe a pregnancy following loss - joy following sadness. It feels a bit simplistic when you consider the incredible amount of complex, difficult thoughts and emotions that come along with pregnancy after loss. It’s not like the sadness is over and joy takes its place - at least not in my experience. Yet, having a term like this gives us a common language to discuss a very difficult topic. So, while I may not be thrilled with the term… I’m going to use it anyway. Plus, they are really pretty.
Macrame Rainbow made by Carly from NotSoPlainJaneHH on Etsy. Click here to purchase.
I have one hanging up in the baby’s to-be nursery.
I’ve previously shared my two experiences of pregnancy loss which you can read here and here. I was really nervous about trying again after having two losses so close together. Thoughts like, “What if I don’t (or can’t) have another child?” or “Could I even survive another loss?” or “Having these questions and doubts is so unfair” were rolling around in my head. But with my husband about to head off to basic training (He joined the National Guard at 32, which is a whole other story), that meant waiting another 6 months before we’d even have the opportunity to start trying again. After losing a whole year of biological output across the two losses, we decided to try again in the two months before he left.
If there’s one thing we’ve learned in our journey to parenthood, it’s that getting pregnant has (luckily) been easy for us. Knowing what I know now about those trying to conceive (TTC) and struggling with infertility issues, I don’t take this first step in the process for granted. Yet, I also know from experience that it is only the very first step and does not guarantee anything. Getting pregnant for the third time in less than a year felt a little desperate, and perhaps it was, but the feeling of aching for a child takes all the self-consciousness out of “being seen as desperate” for me.
Getting pregnant for the third time in less than a year felt a little desperate.
So we were pregnant again. No exclamation point here. No gasps and running excitedly from the bathroom to wave the positive stick around (flinging pee and all). There was a deep sigh, tears welling up and a silent prayer that this time would be different. And then my husband left. He missed the earliest opportunity for an ultrasound by two days and I was staring down three months at home with my toddler praying that I wouldn’t also be going through another loss alone. Did someone say something about feeling desperate?
These still live in my bathroom drawer. I used to take them out to look at them several times a week to remind myself that I was indeed pregnant.
After my last loss, I decided to change providers. Not because I blamed them or felt I’d received poor quality physical care, but the level of empathy and holistic care was noticeable. I was never asked how I was doing emotionally, only if I had stopped bleeding. I was told I couldn’t have any tests until I’d had three losses. Further recommendations or information were given short answers only after I harped on the issue. I was never asked or offered a referral for a counselor or mental health professional. I needed, wanted and deserved more, so I went and found it.
I also started going to therapy at the suggestion of my husband who could see how dark my days had gotten. We went to sessions together and I went alone to talk through the grief of loss and the anxiety of another pregnancy. Therapy was completely new to me. I found it to be a safe space to talk through my emotions and sort through my feelings. The relationship with the individual therapist is absolutely critical to this, but if a good fit can be found, I wholeheartedly recommend mental health practitioners. Even having a place to more productively release my emotions was helpful.
When the 7-week mark rolled around I was faced with the dilemma of going in to get early testing or fearfully putting it off because no news is good news. Thankfully, I had educated myself more across the past several months and knew that it was important to at least get my progesterone levels checked as low levels have been linked to early losses. My levels came back as would be expected for where I was in the pregnancy and I decided against further supplementation. I was told I could take them without negative side effects, for both extra hormonal support as well as, emotionally, to feel like I was doing everything in my power to foster the pregnancy. For me, having levels in the normal range felt reassuring enough.
I knew that it was important to at least get my progesterone levels checked as low levels have been linked to early losses.
My friend and Mental Push Plan co-founder Carolyn went with me to my first ultrasound appointment. Having her holding my hand was huge. I was mostly able to keep the tears in check as I went into the appointment. I was, however, rather put off by the ultrasound tech’s lack of A) tack and B) ability to read the mood of the room. Unfortunately, this is a very common experience for those who have experienced loss, an ultrasound tech who doesn’t know how to deliver bad news and/or one who assumes getting “jelly on the belly” is cause for excitement and anticipation. Well, it ain’t. For many, it is a place of trauma, dread, anxiety and tense longing. PSA - I don’t know who’s in charge of the curriculum for this job, but putting in a course on trauma-informed care would be well worth everyone’s while.
Yet, we made it through the first ultrasound and then the second. And then the third and fourth because I requested I keep getting them through the 16-week mark. Again, the change in provider was huge because the only answer I ever got was, “Absolutely, we can do that.” I went into all these appointments as a huge ball of anxious, nauseous energy and always spent 10 mins bawling in my car alone afterwards. Usually with an overpriced cookie in hand. The emotional swings around appointments were enormous and I was blessed to also have my sister-in-law come to many of my appointments too. Sometimes she literally ran there, as her job as a pediatric oncology nurse was a couple blocks away.
The first half of my rainbow pregnancy was marked with lots of moments when I’d see baby clothes or a maternity outfit and think, “Oh that looks nice… but no. No, I can’t even entertain it. What if I just have to return it without using it?” There was an intense amount of wanting to protect my heart as much as possible. “Don’t get your hopes up” was a constant refrain in my head.
During this time, we were also creating the Mental Grief Plan digital workbook to help others who have experienced pregnancy or infant loss. I was allowing a lot to flow out of me in writing about mental tools for walking with grief, while walking that path myself. This felt necessary because being “productive” feels like progress for me, which is my own coping habit for better or worse (hopefully better when it comes to others having access to another resource). But I took several of our recommendations to heart and used them.
First, I got a two part tattoo, one half on each day that had been an anticipated due date (July 27 & Nov 12). It felt very grounding to have something I specifically chose to do that day, have it scheduled and mark the day how I wanted. Having a little pain involved also felt a bit cathartic. Unbeknownst to me, the first tattoo happened right before my first missed period and then the second happened when I was 19 weeks. The decision I made to go ahead with the second tattoo is not what everyone would do, but for me the risk felt low and the mental, emotional reward was high.
Second, I developed an affirmation to use when my negative, fearful thoughts started to take over my mind - “What will be, will be.” However, this felt a bit too much like I was allowing myself to let go of all hope. As much as I wanted to protect my own heart, I also wanted to give the life growing within me the joy, love and hope it deserved. So, my affirmation eventually shifted into - “What will be, will be, but I’m rooting for you.” These two ways of, first marking my loss and then mindfully processing my grief, were very helpful.
“What will be, will be, but I’m rooting for you.”
I filled the void of my husband’s absence by dragging my son across half the country to visit family and friends that the pandemic had prevented us from seeing for nearly two years. Remember that thing about productivity feeling like progress for me? Hah. I was extraordinarily tired during the first trimester, so I spent most afternoons sleeping on the couches of the family and friends I’d traveled so far to see. Thankfully, their presence was soul-filling none the less.
Eventually basic training ended and having my husband home and by my side for the 20-week ultrasound was really comforting. It felt like getting through the anatomy scan was an even bigger milestone this time around. But, of course, cue the same ultrasound tech with a regrettable bedside manner and we felt like we were back in a scenario where their silence spelt impending doom. It wasn’t, thankfully, but the experience was not comforting. However, once we got the results and baby’s progress checked out with where it should be, I felt like I could breathe again.
The second half of this pregnancy felt much more joyful and lighthearted. Baby’s movements have been strong and regular. My belly expanded faster and larger than my first pregnancy, and each and every pregnancy ache and pain felt more and more confirming (even if they were uncomfortable). We knew the sex of the baby and started thinking of names. We talked more and more about the baby with our son, trying to prepare him (as well as ourselves) for the realities of a family of four. My hope grew and my fears receded.
My hope grew and my fears receded.
I went back and read my favorite pregnancy and postpartum books and added some new ones. I kept exercising and stretching, although my diligence with food was not as robust as during my first pregnancy (anyone else just want carbs??). I even flew to Mexico by myself at 34 weeks pregnant for a bachelorette party (which was totally worth it)!
I am writing this at 38 weeks and 3 days, officially the longest I’ve been pregnant since our son was born at exactly 38 weeks. My focus in the last 2 months has been preparing my own Mental Push Plan to prepare mentally for this birth. Having my mental tools all laid out made me feel empowered and in control. It did feel pretty cool to be able to use my own program this time and not have to go piecing together a plan.
But… in the last week I’ve also felt my fears creep back in. Thoughts like, “This baby isn’t in my arms yet” or “What if our baby is still?” or “Please God, let us have a healthy baby after getting this far.” Hi, again, feelings of desperation. Turns out emotional swings and tough mental hurdles can pop up anytime, even after it feels like they were under control. Trying to cling to hope and trusting in your body that has failed* you in the past is a difficult mental place to be.
*I use the word “failed” purposefully because many feel this way towards their bodies after loss. There, of course, is no blame to be had but as much as you logically know this or tell yourself that, you can still feel it.
I don’t know how this pregnancy will end or what my birth experience will look like. I’m working hard to maintain beginners mind and a mental posture of “don’t know” when I start to feel myself getting sucked into the “what if’s”. Yet I keep reminding myself -
