20 Weeks: Rainbow Baby

"And now it came to pass that the burdens which were laid upon Alma and his brethren were made light; yea, the Lord did strengthen them that they could bear up their burdens with ease, and they did submit cheerfully and with patience to all the will of the Lord" (Mosiah 24:15, emphasis added).

When I found out I was pregnant again, I was stoked!  I ran in the bedroom where Jayze was and said, "Come here! I have something to show you!"  We both ran back to the bathroom and hovered over the pregnancy test I had set on the counter.  And it was still there--two dark red lines in the shape of a plus sign.  We hugged and kissed and sat on the bed, both of us feeling a mix of emotions.  I was excited and relieved, but also worried.

As the weeks went by, the worry kept growing, and I realized I kept pushing it away.  I started repressing my feelings, which in turn repressed a connection to the baby.  We found out we were pregnant really early, when I was about four weeks, and by the time I was 8 weeks along, I really had no feeling for the baby.  And that scared me.  It scared me that maybe I wouldn't love this baby as much as Alma, or even at all.  It really boiled down to the fact that I was scared this second baby would die too, any moment, so what was the point in getting connected?  What was the point in loving something I was just going to lose anyway?  What was the point of setting myself up for more heartbreak?  What was the point getting excited about each milestone...when the baby was the size of a blueberry...when the baby was able to clench and unclench his fists...when he could suck his thumb...when he could hear...when he was the size of a plum...?

When I was pregnant with Alma, I remember receiving the weekly emails from a pregnancy website stating how far along I was, what the baby was like now, and what I should expect my symptoms to be.  I would eagerly open the email, devour the information, and then excitedly text Jayze all about our baby.  I couldn't wait to post pictures on Facebook, letting everyone know how much I loved the baby and how I couldn't wait to hold him in my arms.

With this second pregnancy, I didn't like talking about the pregnancy at all.  At first, we only announced to our parents, and then later on to other family members.  I didn't want to announce it on Facebook.  I didn't want to start showing because then even more questions would come.  Questions like:

"Is this your first pregnancy?" (bad question to ask any pregnant person by the way--is she supposed to count all of the miscarriages and maybe even a stillborn?)

"How are you feeling?" (emotionally or physically? because unless you are just searching for the candid answer of "Good," don't ask us pregnant ladies because we can go on and on about how we are feeling)

"Do you think it's wise having another baby so soon after what happened last time?" (no comment)

"Are you doing anything differently this pregnancy?" (it was my fault last time?)

Even when we began announcing it to people face-to-face, I had to put on a fake smile and say, "Yes, Jayze and I are really excited."

And Jayze was excited.  He was worried too, but more excited than worried.  He didn't mind telling people at all.  I felt like I should be excited, but I just wasn't.  Reality struck, and I realized that I didn't want to have to go through everything again.  I didn't want to plan another memorial, figure out a way to fly down to Arizona, rearrange my school schedule and add classes, and go through the heartache of saying goodbye to another baby.  Another layer of grief was being added upon me, another layer of worry and "what if's."

Jayze could tell I was having a hard time--probably because I kept telling him I was having a hard time.  But more than that, he could tell that I didn't like announcing we were pregnant.  I didn't like talking about the future.  I didn't like planning for what we should buy for the baby.  I changed the subject when the topic of our baby came up.  It brought up too many memories of when we were expecting Alma.

So, I decided to take it to God.  I decided to get down on my knees for the millionth time and just lay it all out.  Tell him how I was feeling, how I was doing, and that I really did have a desire to connect to this second baby, but I was just having a hard time.  I wanted to cherish every moment I had with this baby like I had with Alma.  I wanted to be grateful I was pregnant.  I wanted to love this baby with all my heart...to fill a hole...to help me heal.

And I prayed.  And prayed again.  And kept praying.  For weeks, I prayed and prayed.  But the connection didn't come.

Jayze gave me a priesthood blessing, but the connection still wasn't there.

I had a couple of ultrasounds, and I posted them on the fridge, but didn't really acknowledge them.

We found out early, because of blood tests, that we were having a boy.  I tried to feel some emotion when the nurse told me on the phone, but I went into the bathroom and had a little cry.  I had been hoping for a girl because then maybe this pregnancy would be different.  Maybe if the baby was a girl, I could have different symptoms and more of a hope that the outcome would be different, and we could take our baby home in a car seat this time.  That our little girl would be a symbol of hope.  So when the nurse told me we were having a boy, I tried really hard to feel excited, but nothing was there.  Just that same old numbness that I couldn't seem to get rid of. 

And then...a lesson was learned.

I remember it wasn't a day of significance.  I couldn't even tell you what day of the week it was or what the weather was like outside.  But I do remember that I was just talking with Jayze at dinner--about the baby--and suddenly a warm, wonderful feeling spread throughout my whole body.  I realized I felt happy talking about the baby.  And more than that, I felt this sudden love for the baby.  That he was mine and he was supposed to be in our family.

On my knees again that night, I thanked my Heavenly Father for that feeling.  I asked him to please let me continue feeling happiness and love for the baby.  The baby deserves a mother who wants him.  A mother who loves him.  And I want to be his mother.

It wasn't this earth-shattering event that caused my love for the baby.  It was something simple, small, and sweet--something that had to come from the Lord.  Sometimes He answers right away, and sometimes He patiently waits until we are ready to receive the answer.  And looking back, I know the answer came at the perfect moment for me.

I was reading about stillborns trying to find some comfort, and the term "rainbow baby" kept coming up in the comments.  I didn't know what a rainbow baby was and decided to look it up.  I came across a beautiful definition that is now close to my heart:

It is understood that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of any storm. When a rainbow appears, it does not mean that the storm never happened or that we are not still dealing with its aftermath. It means that something beautiful and full of light has appeared in the midst of the darkness and clouds. Storm clouds may still hover, but the rainbow provides a counterbalance of color, energy and hope.

 This second baby boy of mine is my rainbow baby.  I may be going through a storm right now, but I am trying to have an attitude of gratitude during the storm.  I am so grateful I have Alma in my life.  Without him, this second baby might not be inside of me right now.  I love an image my friend gave me that Alma is probably holding his little brother's hand, preparing him to come down to Jayze and me.  Alma has already changed me in ways that I could never have imagined--good ways.  The storm Jayze and I have gone through has not been easy, but there has been joy amidst the storm.  The storm sometimes is still raging, and I'm sure there are even more storms ahead, but I'm grateful to know the Lord has promised to be with us and that a rainbow is coming.

In his talk "Grateful in Any Circumstances," President Dieter F. Uchtdorf stated, "How much of life do we miss by waiting to see the rainbow before thanking God that there is rain?"

I don't want to miss taking belly bump pictures.  I am so grateful I took week-by-week pictures when I was pregnant with Alma, because I feel I have a record of him.  He was inside me, growing and getting bigger.  He had and has a personality.  He was and is real.  I love him, and I want to love his little brother too.

I don't want to miss the excitement of being able to see my baby on the ultrasound machine.

I don't want to miss the joy of feeling the baby move.  I absolutely love that feeling.  It helps me know he's alive and I think of him saying, "Hi Mom! Don't forget about me! I love you!" every time I feel him.

I don't want to miss feeling grateful for the fact that I can take my baby with me everywhere right now without having to cart around a diaper pad, diapers and wipes, a car seat, an extra change of clothes for the baby, bottles, a binkie, and who knows what else...It's fun being able to take him with me everywhere without having to wonder if it's allowed to bring a baby with me or not.  Don't get me wrong, I'm soooo excited to cart around diapers and wipes and everything, but it's nice to be able to cherish that little bit of freedom right now.

I don't want to miss the hard times, the good times, the easy times, the loving times, the sacred times, the stretching times.  I need to learn to enjoy the rain right now.

I love Joseph B. Wirthlin's talk "Finding a Safe Harbor."  It speaks straight to my heart.  You can find his whole talk here, but I will just reference a small portion:

"Many today feel troubled and distressed; many feel that, at any moment, the ships of their lives could capsize or sink. It is to you who are looking for a safe harbor that I wish to speak today, you whose hearts are breaking, you who are worried or afraid, you who bear grief or the burdens of sin, you who feel no one is listening to your cries, you whose hearts are pleading, “Master, carest thou not that I perish?” To you I offer a few words of comfort and of counsel.

"Be assured that there is a safe harbor. You can find peace amidst the storms that threaten you. Your Heavenly Father—who knows when even a sparrow falls—knows of your heartache and suffering. He loves you and wants the best for you. Never doubt this. While He allows all of us to make choices that may not always be for our own or even others’ well-being, and while He does not always intervene in the course of events, He has promised the faithful peace even in their trials and tribulations."
 

...

"When you feel tossed by the storms of life and when the waves rise and the winds howl, on those occasions it would be natural for you to cry in your heart, “Master, carest thou not that I perish?” When these times come, think back upon that day when the Savior awakened in the stern of the ship, rose up and rebuked the storm. “Peace, be still,” ¹³ He said.

At times we may be tempted to think the Savior is oblivious to our trials. In fact, the reverse is true; it is we who need to be awakened in our hearts to His teachings."

In our own storms in life the Savior is our solace and our sanctuary. If we seek peace, we must come unto Him. He Himself spoke this eternal truth when He said, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” ¹⁷ When our souls are anchored in the safe harbor of the Savior, we can proclaim as did Paul: “We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed.” ¹⁸ 

So I want to enjoy this

in the faith, hope, and knowledge that this

will come after the rain.