the rainbow after the storm

The loss of Henry has been devestating, but what I didn’t realize until recently was that there have been many smaller losses as part of this huge one, all of which have required grieving in some way. Even though I most of all grieve for and miss Henry, I also grieve the loss of being a mom to a newborn again, of having a baby in my arms, of breastfeeding. I grieve the loss of a sibling for Ollie. I grieve the loss of the house we had just made an offer on (which we reneged due to not wanting to take on a financial burden right now) where I pictured my boys growing up. I grieve not seeing Gary with our new baby and being a great dad to two boys. I grieve Henry & his cousin Olivia, born on the exact same day, not growing up together and reaching milestones together. I grieve the blossoming friendships with other new moms, that have now become awkward and strained at best.

A lot of well-meaning people say, “don’t worry, you’ll have another.” While this isn’t what a bereaved parent wants to hear, they are (God willing) right – we do want another when we’re ready. But I think some people don’t fully understand why I want another because it is certainly not to replace Henry; nothing will ever replace him and I’ll always have a hole in my heart for him. He was here with us for a brief time, a time that will stay with us forever. Yet, though I know he is irreplaceable, there is still a desire, a need for another baby and a sibling for Oliver here on earth.

I love this quote I found on Babycenter about Rainbow babies (the term for babies born after a loss): “Rainbow Baby” is the understanding that the beauty of a rainbow does not negate the ravages of the storm. When a rainbow appears, it doesn’t mean the storm never happened or that the family is not still dealing with its aftermath. What it means is 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.

I’ll never get over the loss of Henry. In fact, I know that if I do get pregnant this year, I’ll still be grieving even as I’m hopeful for the new life of his sibling. But I am so hopeful and excited for that newborn smell, those first coo’s, a sibling that Oliver will love and adore – a living, breathing, crying baby. A child that will be one-of-a-kind and irreplaceable, just like Henry is.