Holding My Breath for a Rainbow...

They say that a baby after a miscarriage(s) is called a Rainbow Baby.  Something about the hope after the storm, or the treasure after a space of emptiness.  And the idea of a rainbow makes people happy because it is such a unique surprise to see one much of the time.  But I've yet to receive that peace that's supposed to arrive with a rainbow baby.  This fourth pregnancy is something much different than my first.  While I am starting to show there really is a baby in there and people are starting to notice the change outside of me, I've yet to feel the change within me move yet.  At 17 weeks  pregnant, you're supposed to be in the clear and feel the sense of joy and excitement as you're almost halfway done.  But for me the sensation of holding my breath in awe has not ended.  I catch myself truly wondering if there really is anything in there, truly disconnected from the five ultrasounds we've had where a baby with now arms and legs is waving at me.  Disconnected, holding my breath that the storm is truly over for us.

I think about how I think about this baby, much different than with K, and those in between because I know that sometimes the rainbow doesn't come after the storm, sometimes in life, it just keeps raining.  Sometimes it pours and no one has answers, just apologies.  And while there is so much joy in my heart for the hope that is to come, my ability to trust that this time we are going to make it wavers hour to hour or day to day.

The joy of social media is becoming more aware of people stories and losses.  30 years ago we never talked about infant loss, more so gossiped for those who lost a child.  Today, I probably read 1-2 stories a week of women's courageous journeys through miscarriage, stillborn, and early infant loss.  I imagine whether you lose a child a 6 weeks or 6 years, you start to hold your breath more.  Start to truly wonder about the safety in many decisions.  I had to express that while we are holding so much joy and hope in our hands, we also hold with it the frailty of this situation.  Life is fragile, miraculous and a gift, every moment.

I hope we get to the day where I am handed this new little bundle in a fuzzy hospital blanket, and I can let go and breathe again.  I try to let it go, try to let God hold it, but I know so often that his will and mine are fighting for different things.  While I long for comfort and peace, He often learns towards teaching me things about myself and life and Him that I never knew or experienced.  And each time, I see why He
did, but that doesn't make my trust grow in the short term.  Because the reality is no matter how much of God's will I see in every loss, it still hurts.  We were never made not to hurt, not to cry, not to experience loss.  In fact I believe just the opposite, that all of our trials are here to build us into someone deeper and more complex than who we were before.

So here we are, the farthest we have been able to come in three years to growing our family, and I'm holding my breath, disconnected, in awe, in waiting, yet again for the sun to rise...  For that momentary peace that it's ok, for now.  A client asked me yesterday if she could learn to still her anxiety in her mind and I remember saying, "this is our temporary home, it's not where we belong, only when we are truly home are we ever able to let go of all of those thoughts".  We smiled.  She said, "man I long for that".  "yeah me too, lady, me too".

For those of you holding your breath for whatever season of waiting you are in... waiting for that job, the guy to ask for your hand, that offer on a house, that treatment for cancer to work, that hope that your lost son or daughter would call on the phone to say hello, at least know you're not alone.  We all have seasons of holding our breath, but we are not doing it alone.  That's probably the most hopeful part of the story, that I do believe, even death is used for His greater purpose.  We all play a part, some of us just carry more, some of us just learn to hold our breaths longer and deeper.  Typically, those are the people that other's look to in their own moments of loss and waiting.

So here's to another week of holding our breaths.  Dive deeper into life and deeper into trusting it will be how its supposed to...