My daughter is a ‘Rainbow Baby’; born after a miscarriage. I only heard of this metaphor recently but it got me thinking so much I had to write. In truth, I will catch myself thinking about my miscarriage for many reasons: I still get these emails ‘you and your X month old’, though less frequently (I signed up when I found out I was pregnant to track my progress and never seemed to be able to get off). It’s so common, it will happen to somebody you know and it resonates in me every time. Also my curious mind wonders, what would they be like?
I miscarried just before Mothers Day and my niece brought me some flowers and wished me a happy Mothers Day. I replied that I wasn’t a mother but my sister argued that I was. I have held on to this and I know motherhood takes many forms but physically the baby was in me and it’s DNA was in my blood stream, that fascinates me. So when I think of miscarriage, that baby has to exit your system (which perhaps they never do completely) and when I think of how many children I have, I have one but I had another and I want to acknowledge that. I have a ‘Rainbow Baby’ and am extremely grateful to have a healthy and happy daughter, but like many this does not replace the baby I lost and who I account for.
As time passes I still wonder and I don’t know if this will ever change. I’m glad to those women that shared their experiences with me, their words helped. The thought of having a ‘Rainbow Baby’ is a positive one and I felt that there were many women/mothers around me that helped me look towards life whilst honoring our feelings for the death of our babies.
You’re my rainbow baby but there’s no pot of gold,
There is a reserved space for a story untold.
An empty derelict home that nobody claims.
Only I remember, the deed’s in my name.
Sometimes I go back, knowing no work can be done,
Helplessly drawn to view because I was their mum.
We lived together, sharing everything inside,
Then they split everything, when from inside they died.
A baby died in me, leaving a dirty red.
I remember this but face the rainbow instead.
A baby died in me, leaving a dirty red. I remember this but face the rainbow instead. Click To Tweet
This post first appeared on http://www.meetothermums.com