A letter to my rainbow..

​To my son, my rainbow

Just 4 weeks ago you entered the world and became part of our loving family. Of course, we had been expecting your arrival for quite sometime but still nothing could have prepared us for the light you would bring into our lives.

You were so very wanted.

Pregnancy after loss is a bizarre, emotional and anxious fueled time. It is bittersweet, tiring and yet so full of love and hope. We were told when we were still pregnant with your big sister Holly, that any future pregnancies would carry a 20% chance of heart block. It is a terrifying statistic and whilst most people will tell you that 'the odds are in your favour' they haven't walked in our shoes when the odds of Holly ever being poorly was only 1 in 20,000. Odds and statistics don't mean much when your heart has already been broken. 

We wouldn't know if you were clear from the dreaded heart block until 29 weeks gestation so we didn't announce the pregnancy on all platforms of social media. We kept it to just a few, where we knew of people in similar situations who could support us on this journey. 

I wondered if people would think I was trying to replace your sister. Or if they would think that your arrival would 'make everything okay' and I would then be back to my 'old self'. I knew none of those things would be true but it was yet another learning curve on this life after loss spinning wheel. 

I made sure to cherish every time you moved inside me, knowing that I had felt Holly so little. I started to prepare for your arrival, going against the 'I'm not going to buy anything in case I jinx things' as I so desperately just wanted to feel normal. After all, I was sure buying you clothes wouldn't be a cause of heart block.

None of it was easy. Your daddy and I spent hours sat in the day assessment unit worried about your movements, I would stay awake for hours at night checking you were kicking me enough. I would listen in to your heartbeat, sometimes more than once a day to listen for any signs of a slowing heart rate. It was exhausting. 

Somehow we made it to 29 weeks. We were told your heart was healthy. I lay there with silent tears falling as I had done just over a year before when we were told your sister was so poorly. Tears of relief, tears of love and tears of sadness that Holly couldn't of had this outcome. 

Your early induction date came, I was too anxious to carry on with your pregnancy any further, knowing that I could take better care of you on the outside than on the inside. You were born, you were pink and you were crying. I sobbed. You were here, you were safe and you were breathing. My heart felt love. 

I have been asked if you have helped with my grief of your sister. I think you have just made me love her more and maybe that extra bit of love diminishes a slight bit of the pain. I wish I could have you all here but instead a very special part of Holly will always live on in you. You are Holly's gift and a beautiful reminder that she existed. 

We made it little one. We slammed the door on heart block and you have now taken a piece of my heart. Welcome to this crazy, mad world my little rainbow. May you always know how loved you are.

x