A family I know is getting their rainbow baby. I'm delighted for them. They lost their three-year-year old in a tragic horse riding accident close to a year ago. They're watching the date of her angelversary coming on with dread. I hope and pray this knowledge that their rainbow baby is coming soon will help them find peace as that nightmarish day looms.
However, I know from experience that the fear will sit beneath the surface, like a storm stirring in what seems like a gentle sea. They've also had at least one miscarriage. Fears of a repeat have to weigh on them as they always did on me.
If anyone deserves the joy of a rainbow baby, it's this family that has been through so much heartache. There was a time I would have felt jealousy over this because they are getting their rainbow, but I never did. A rainbow baby is said to fill the big, gaping hole of loss. That rainbow baby will never replace the lost baby, but there is healing in holding one child after another is lost.
Or, so I hear. I didn't really get the chance to figure that out for myself. Alli came after my first miscarriage, so she was technically a rainbow. But we felt strongly that she was the one we lost in the miscarriage, that she tried to come, and this was the same baby actually making it into our arms. It's hard to quite call her a rainbow when they were both she, coming twice and leaving twice.
I'm past envying other people's rainbows. I've found peace in the two I can still hold, in knowing I will hold Alli and all the other angels I've lost (15? 16? 17? I've lost count). I'm past yearning for diapers, past feeling the pain every time I see a pregnant woman or a baby. I'm truly happy for this family that finally has something to celebrate. I will be praying along with them that this baby comes and stays. It's a beautiful thing to know you have angels who love you on the other side. However, nothing can quite replace the warm weight of a sweet baby in your arms. In the meantime, for me, I'll look forward to the day I can hold mine again.
