An Open Letter to the Rainbow Baby in My Belly

Pregnancy after loss has been hard, but nowhere near as hard as not having you in my life.

Frankly My Dear

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Photo by Devon Divine on Unsplash

My Dearest CJ

I’m driving to see you again today. It’s something I used to dread. Something that would make my hands clammy and my heart race…wondering how you’d look when I got there. Wondering if I’d find out this time you were really leaving me. I didn’t have a lot of trust in you back then. Things got off to a rocky start, didn’t they baby?

Every drive I would fall into silence, staring out the window as tears rolled down my face. Bracing myself for a metaphoric head-on collision. Waiting for a blow that would knock the life right out of me. It was awful.

Don’t get me wrong…I still loved you. Immensely. That’s why it hurt so much. But I had to protect myself from that inevitable moment you’d leave. Although your Daddy kept the faith, no one could offer me any guarantees that you would make it. The odds weren’t on our side and I’d long since given up on prayer.

But every time I’d get there, every time I’d see your face, you’d win my trust that little bit more. In those times, you were the parent — the wise older being — reaching out to your fragile mother and saying ‘I’m here.’ I’d leave the appointment feeling cautiously optimistic. Maybe we’d be okay? Maybe we’d make it?

But then the bleeding would start again and I’d be back in that car heading to find out if you’d stay. My hands would cover my belly and I’d try to sense if you were still alive in there but my anxiety had transformed my intuition into a faulty radio. There was no way I could pick up your signal. I couldn’t hear you through the white noise.

Then they’d put that probe on my belly and I’d see your little heart flickering away. ‘I’m here Mum. I’m still here.’

I don’t know how you did it baby boy, but you brought me back to myself. It took four months. Four months of complete uncertainty but somehow you managed to overcome every obstacle my womb threw at you. You are staying. You are going to be ours. I know there are still risks — I’ve lost any sense of naivety about that — but I choose to walk forward with you in love now. I have tuned back into that…

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Frankly My Dear

Journalist & Features writer | Heartfelt storytelling about love, motherhood and life from a woman who’s been there.