What’s the difference between having a baby, and having a rainbow baby?

For those who may not be familiar with the term, a “rainbow baby” refers to a child born following a pregnancy or child loss.

I never thought I’d have a rainbow baby because the thought of enduring a pregnancy loss never crossed my mind. That is, until it happened.

What’s in a name?

Our miscarriage was a huge shock and to be honest, the term “rainbow baby” didn’t sit well with me. I adored the baby we’d lost. I still do. However, if rainbows come after a storm, did that mean my angel baby was supposed to be the storm in the equation if we had another child? No way. She couldn’t be a dark and scary storm.

Maybe the storm here is supposed to be the grief following the loss? That didn’t sit quite right either.

Don’t get me wrong. I grieved. I grieved in a big way. The grief was deep, profound, and life changing. Heck, I still grieve. It’s the kind of grief you never get over. Instead, you learn to live with it. You even hold on to it because it reminds you that the child you lost is real. But, to be honest, as I look back on the deepest parts of my grieving process, it wasn’t a dark, scary place. How could it be? My Savior walked the entire road with me. He infused light into the far recesses of that indescribably heavy experience.

(Could that be what the scriptures mean when they say, “take my yoke upon you for my yoke is easy and my burden is LIGHT?")

Regardless of what anyone wants to call it, we did indeed go on to have another baby 2 years later.

I like to look for rainbows…

So, what is different about a child born following a loss? A rainbow baby?

For me, the biggest difference has been my perspective of her growing up.

Having our three “sunshine babies” (pre-loss children) was truly a joy! I absolutely loved everything about each stage… except maybe the sleep deprivation part. I wished with all my might that I could hold on to every moment. It felt like trying to hold on to water. Time just kept slipping through my fingers no matter what I did to try to make it stand still. It broke my heart every time my babies would move up a clothing or diaper size. I grieved the passing of each stage. I’d look at the pictures I’d taken through their little lives and I’d wish I’d held them a little longer.

I’d wish I’d memorized their tiny features better before they changed.

I’d wish I could freeze time because it was just passing by way too fast.

I felt I was in constant internal conflict - excited about the next stage, enjoying where I was, and mourning the stages past.

Fast forward to today.

A new perspective

When we lost our baby, I’d have given anything, ANYTHING, to watch her grow up. I’d have given anything to keep her inside me a little longer. I’d have given anything to see her learn and grow and develop.

What is so different about a rainbow baby? — Our rainbow baby

When our rainbow baby was born, I knew she’d be our last. I expected to feel an even deeper sense of loss as each stage passed. These were roads I’d loved yet would never be able to travel again.

But something had changed.

As we have moved through the birth, the first skin to skin, the first night in the hospital, the first week, the losing of the cord stump, the first month, the first smile, etc., I haven’t been filled with sadness.

I’ve been filled with a deep sense of awe.

I’ve been filled with a beautiful sense of relief.

I’ve been filled with a penetrating sense of gratitude that I get to watch this incredible little lady grow up.

“I am so grateful I get to watch you grow,” I’ve whispered countless times.

Watching this sweet child (and her siblings) progress through this life is something I hope to never take for granted.

Yes, there is still a little twinge of sadness here and there, but having this rainbow baby has given me a better perspective. My eyes are fixed forward because what lies ahead is a gift. The gifts that beautify the path behind me are just that - beautiful. They aren’t to be mourned. They are to be treasured.

The baby we lost isn’t the storm in the equation. She is the sunshine projecting the rainbow, and the nudge that helped me turn my head to see all those incredible colors from a different perspective.

When mommies get sick, and sometimes they do, how do things change for me and for you?