Pregnancy After Loss: Carrying My Rainbow

 

Honestly, I don’t even know how to start this post. I don’t know how to express what is in my heart. I don’t know how to help you understand what this feels like.

Excited. Scared. Tired. Overjoyed. Nervous. Nauseous. Happy. Sad. So on & so on.

This is pregnancy after loss. This is carrying a rainbow.

Thrilled to be pregnant after six long months of recovering from loss.

Scared about the future and what is to take place.

Blessed by the greatest gift.

Anxious about each ultrasound, test or symptom.

Happy to have a miracle growing and flourishing inside.

Frustrated that the innocence of pregnancy has been ripped away by the loss of a pregnancy (and because I can’t drink wine to help me through all of it).

I mean, seriously, how is this fair?

There are so many women pregnant right now that haven’t the slightest clue at the complete fragility of the life they are carrying. There’s the lady who is 16 weeks pregnant with her first child “preparing” you for what is to come. It’s okay, Momma. Take a breath. I know that you as a mother of miscarriage may have seen week 16, 28 or 36. You may know the way it feels when the little one moves inside of you. You may know the way it feels when your back starts to hurt and your feet start to swell. You may know every part of pregnancy, but still, they want to help prepare you.

There are the people that care about you and will ask over and over “how are you feeling?” You will reply “oh, I’m doing fine,” or maybe “just minor nausea,” because you know that is the answer they are looking for when really the answer to “how are you feeling?” is so much more than that now.

The way you feel during a pregnancy after loss is more than you can describe. It is being excited while expecting the worst. It is using the phrase hope more than you would like.

I hope I hold this baby.

I hope I get to see my belly bump this time.

I hope I get to feel the movement from inside.

I hope there will still be a heartbeat.

I hope this baby will be genetically normal.

I hope I don’t have to share the loss of another child with all of you.

I hope and I hope and I hope.

It’s okay, Momma. Just breathe. We will make it through pregnancy after loss. We are stronger than we once were, and we’ve got this!

Baby Luscombe is scheduled to make an appearance around September 22, 2017, and we cannot wait to meet, hold and cherish our blessing.

A special thank you to my precious hubby who put up with all of the pictures, excitement and tears. I love you!