Rainbow baby

Dear Analin,

Rainbow babies are hard.

We thought having a baby after your loss would help us heal. He did.

We knew being pregnant would be hard. It was one of the hardest things we'd ever done.

When he was born, I couldn't think about you. When he was born, it had to be about him, because if you were part of it, I don't think I could have taken care of him as well as I did.

Having your little brother helped us heal in knowing, physically, we are sound. Not one thing went wrong with his pregnancy despite the doctor's almost desperate search. There were tests and ultrasounds and NSTs galore and our doctor admitted the changes he'd been expecting hadn't come.

Your baby brother was induced at 38 weeks and 1 day. He's pretty perfect, though he had some trouble breathing and eating at the same time at first. I didn't want to stop holding him. I barely shared him with your dad or older brothers. He was mine. My rainbow baby.

My distraction.

It is hard, terrifying, and a massive highlight of how unfair stillborn loss is when you have a live baby. He was perfect. So were you. His pregnancy was normal. So was yours.

I am so very, incredibly grateful to have brought him home. I was up and walking around the delivery room with a smile. I had no problems getting him to nurse or letting him sleep. I was showered, dressed, and chatting away like there was no after-birth pain at all. Someone mentioned how good I looked, how happy we were.

Of course we were. We got to take home a baby. Do you understand? We got to TAKE HIM HOME.

That's a very specific contrast to your birth.

He was about 3 weeks old before I consciously thought about you again. I cried for a day. I held him and rocked him and screamed within my mind because I should have had this with you. You should be toddling around demanding my attention, demanding to hold the baby. Actions from a baby who never got to come home.

Rainbow babies are hard. They are a bittersweet coming that simultaneously heals and rips open wounds that may not have been as healed as we thought in the first place.

I wouldn't trade him for the world. I just wish his waking family was a little bigger.

Always missing you,

Mommy.

Humbled

Dear Analin,

Your big brothers love your little brother so much. They hug my belly, kiss it, talk to the baby through it. Sebastian is convinced he can only be heard through my belly button and directs all his words there. Joshua will pretend he wants a hug or kiss from me, then duck away at the last second to bestow the hug and kiss onto my belly. He presses his mouth against my skin and growls against the baby, his own favorite noise from when he was born.

The other day we were cuddling on the couch, Joshua caressed my belly and whispered, "I love you so much, baby brother."

How I didn't cry, I do not know.

All of this love, unconditional and unharnessed from the boy who hid under a blanket for 2 days after we lost you. These words from the boy who told me he didn't want a baby any more because this one wasn't a girl. The hugs and kisses from the boy who didn't want to go to any more ultrasounds unless there was a chance boy might change to girl.

Now he's picking out silly names for the baby. He's pushing me to do things faster, like set up the crib, put together the mobile, wash his clothes, get his toys ready. And I can't do a single one of those things without him there to help and supervise.

Sebastian helps and loves and supervises as well, but he doesn't remember, not like Joshua.

Here I am, worrying about all the different things. I need to switch my blood thinning shots in case I go into labor early. I won't, but it's a smaller worry. I want a specific type of bouncer because the one I had broke, but it's so expensive new and cheaper used but the ones I find being sold are too far away. I found one at a second-hand shop, one more small worry checked off.

The small worries keep my mind off the bigger one, the one that reminds me even though this baby is being induced somewhat early, he's being induced at 38 weeks and 1 day, three days after you passed in your own time.

How I wish I could be like Joshua, my six year old, first born. Broken hearted from your loss, missing the sister he'd hoped and prayed for, but so in love with this little boy on the way that none of that matters. He humbles me and I envy him because I know there's very little chance I'll be able to copy him. I'm just so happy he hasn't caught on to my own stress to let it affect him. Perhaps these little, distracting worries have helped with that, too, telling him it's these things I'm worried about, and not this new life.

Whatever it is, I'm thankful for it. I'm grateful for his reminder that love is there and can be greater than the fear if we let it be. He helps me breathe a little easier and bond a little deeper with the mover and shaker on his way as he forges his own connection between their hearts and shows Sebastian how to do the same.

My kids are awesome. I'm such a proud Mommy of all of you. You, as well, for teaching us how precious life is and to take each moment we can to learn each other, no matter how close or far we happen to be.

Thank you for being such a great big sister. I love you, beautiful Analin.

Mommy.

Getting Ready

Dear Analin,

I don't know exactly when excitement turned into fear and sadness, but I almost cried on the way home today. I've been in bed most of the day since. And all I did was buy some things second hand.

Last night I found a post with two of our big things plus some little things for the cost of one of those big things. Within an hour, I had the meet and greet set up for today, got the cash ready and did a little dance for happy deals.

I just do not know when it happened. Even looking back, I don't know for sure. Your brothers were being challenging this morning so I was focused on keeping them on task and out of each other's hair without losing my own. I had set up the meet at a fireworks shop and thought to grab a few sky lanterns while we were there. The boys behaved. They had heart-shaped and American flag and colored lanterns and Joshua was excited for all of them.

When we walked out with our new lanterns, the other Mom was there, toddler in the car, new belly growing just like mine, ready to unload her old stuff into our car. We chatted a minute about the items, she showed me how a few pieces worked and had even thrown in a few smaller things into the deal since I was getting so much and she just wanted it gone.

Price paid, car loaded, your brothers back in the car. I rolled the windows down for the drive, a novelty for them, and they actually laughed and played for the first time that day.

A dry sob burst out half way home.

The boys stopped to ask me what was wrong. When I didn't answer, they went back to playing.

I didn't like the stuff. It was second hand, dusty, dirty, and I'd just spent a lot of money on it.

Except, I loved the stuff for the price we paid and it was in great condition after only one kiddo's use, just dusty from storage from a Mom who'd had a boy and was clearing that stuff out for her baby-girl-on-the-way.

Maybe that was the moment, when I realized what she was doing and why. Maybe the moment happened during the lanterns, or sometime before or sometime after, when money exchanged for things bought for a baby who hasn't been born yet and who I now know may never get to use those things.

Whenever the moment happened, it was about all of that and more.

I have a box of your stuff in the attic you will never use. Why the hell did I just spend so much money for this baby?

Okay, logic time. Do I expect this baby to make it? Yes. Do I expect this baby to need things? Yes. Will he care if things are new or previously loved? Not a chance. Will this stuff make my life easier? Yes. If the worst does happen, am I stuck with it? Only if I choose to be.

He's moving around now as if to tell me it's just a few more weeks.

I really, really wish that meant something that wasn't shadowed with dread.

I'm not going to stop moving forward. We have this stuff now, a baby shower scheduled a month before his due date, a list of names we may throw out at the last minute or choose from after all once he's born.

I just wish I knew what we were getting ready for. Even a when might help, but the doctors aren't committing to an early delivery. All our tests are still perfect, still showing proper progress.

So were yours.

I'm going crazy with worry and sadness. I'm breathing through it and using logic to work through it but come on. There is no preparing for this. There's just the jump and then the experience of it, survived in any way we can survive it.

31 weeks yesterday. We lost you two days before week 38. These next few months are going to be tortuous. I pray so very, very hard that in two months, none of this even matters and is lost in joy.

I'll be okay. I've always known I'd be okay, even when they told me you'd be gone. But life is something we experience, not something we skim through.

Here's to the experience.

I love you like crazy, Analin. I can't wait to send off one of those heart-shaped lanterns to you. <3

Love,

Mommy.

Your baby ....

Dear Analin,

This post should have come a week and a half ago. Yet, as these things go, there was a hiccough.

On the day we found out you are having a little brother, we also discovered we're of a higher risk for Trisomy 13/18 deficiency. Both are considered non-compatible with life because the chances for a live birth are 50%, then a 5-10% chance the baby would make it through the first year of life.

Today, we found out that not only does DNA confirm this baby is a boy, but all chromosomal markers came back normal for the Trisomy's. We are headed down the path for a healthy, live baby boy.

I haven't made that announcement yet because of the pending test results. A few people know, though, people who have known we were going in to find out and specifically asked. Even fewer people knew about this test.

It has been a rough week waiting for these results. There were thoughts of, should we pick out a name? Should we work on the baby registry? Are we only meant to have two boys? That was just on my part. I know your daddy had a hard time, too, thinking small percentages (0.5% chance) might do us in, yet again.

Today, we found out voluntarily taking that test was very worth it. Bonus, DNA confirmed what the ultrasound basically shouted. We are having our 3rd boy.

It's poetic. I like it. Our fourth baby, but our third boy who will be our third baby to bring home.

Not everyone was thrilled with the news. I wouldn't say they were upset this baby is a boy. It's easy to understand people wishing a girl for us, not only with our two boys but with your loss as well. Someone mentioned they'd hoped we'd have twins - one of each.

I'm happy with a boy. I love boys. I'm scared of girls, to be honest. I'd figure it out, of course. And there were a lot of mother/daughter things I'd been looking forward to and that I miss not being able to have with you. Especially now, knowing this pregnancy could have taken a completely different path so early on, healthy is the name of the game. Boy or girl equals love any way you cut it.

On the other hand, a house full of boys. What's a mama to do? Lol. Someone mentioned if they all get through high school and on to college, I'd be up for Sainthood. Well, I'm up for the challenge of college, at least. :)

I love you my one little girl.

Mommy.