I never knew what a rainbow baby was until I had to know what a rainbow baby was. You, my dear sweet child, are my rainbow baby. Which is just one of the many reasons why there are things I want my precious rainbow baby to always remember. I was privileged to have never experienced pregnancy loss until after I already had your siblings, Lily and Paddy. There are so many things you think when you lose a pregnancy. I had done it before, so why was it so hard to do it again? Had I done something to break my body? Why were there no answers to the reasons I kept losing pregnancies? All of those questions shifted once I finally gave birth to you, Lotus.
Every moment of my pregnancy with you, there seemed to be a part of me that was waiting. Waiting for the next doctor's appointment when they would tell me you were no longer thriving inside of me. Each time I was relieved to know you were still there, heartbeat and all, but following each relief was a new anxiety promising the next time might be the time I'd lose you forever. When they first told me I had a subchorionic hematoma, they wanted me to stop running, twisting, carrying and doing yoga. I braced myself for the inevitable loss I felt coming and tried not to get too attached to you. Each week seemed like years. Without the sanity saving release that running had become I was even more prone to obsess over potential outcomes.
But you hung on. You hung on, my sweet Lotus, so you could be the ribbon that ties up our little family. And the longer you stayed the more attached I became until that glorious day when you made your grand entrance. Please, my sweet baby, always remember these things: