You Have to Have Rain to Get a Rainbow

I was tagged by my daughter in a post yesterday. It was about "Rainbow Babies." I had never heard the term. A Rainbow Baby is the baby that is born after the mother has already had a miscarriage. My oldest daughter is a Rainbow Baby. When I first got married, all the way back in 1982, I didn't think I even wanted children. I was very young. I had just turned 19 the week before my wedding, but that wasn't the reason. I was never one of those teens who liked to babysit. I didn't want to work the nursery at church. I was never the one that wanted to hold the newborns of cousins or aunts. Truth be told, I'm still not big on that. I didn't have anything against babies. I wasn't a baby hater. I just didn't find it something I needed to be around. When I had been married about 8 years I started to feel a little differently. Weirdly it was because of a soap opera I was watching called Guiding Light. One of the characters was pregnant, and as I followed her journey, I began to have yearnings of my own. I started to really want to have a baby. My husband had wanted children from about marriage year 3, so he was ready to start. It took me about 6 months to conceive, and in June of 1991 I was in the middle of doing a show and found out I was pregnant. I was over the moon. I bought What to Expect When You're Expecting, the BIBLE for expectant parents, and wrapped it up to give to my husband to tell him we were expecting. We told everyone right away. I told my whole cast, and every person was so excited. We started to make plans, even if only in our minds, and I bought a Baby Book and a first year calendar and started to fill it out with early details of this little one's life. I was a little queasy in the first month but not too bad, tired but not too tired. That could have had something to do with my schedule. Work 9-6, then go straight to the theater to do a show 4 nights a week and 2 shows on most Saturdays, but everything seemed to be going fine. It had been a long Sunday in September, at the end of an already full week with work and shows, we had also had a Sunday Matinee. I felt fine, but I had started to bleed, pretty heavily, and I called the doctor's exchange. My OB was not on call. His partner called me back. I explained what was going on, and he asked me if my OB had heard the heartbeat yet. I said no, and I will never forget his response. "Oh, well, just come in in the morning," he said in a very dismissive tone, as if to say, well, there's nothing we can do. No rush. the baby's already gone. Note here to ANYONE in the medical field who is talking to a pregnant woman who is scared about something going on with her unborn child: No matter what you think is going on, DO NOT DISMISS HER LIKE HER BABY IS ALREADY DEAD! I barely got any sleep that night. I was going in first thing in the morning to my OB to see what was going on. I continued to bleed. My husband had just started a new job and felt he couldn't miss work, so my sweet Daddy, God rest his soul,  took me to the doctor so I wouldn't have to go alone. They did an ultrasound, and I kept asking the poor technician questions. Questions she, of course, could not answer. She was wonderful and sweet. She kept telling me the doctor needed to interpret them and would tell me all about it. It was cold on the examining table. Finally the Ultrasound was done, and I went upstairs to see my doctor. My Daddy waited in the waiting room with all of the pregnant ladies. I'm pretty sure he was the only man in there. I waited, by myself, in the doctor's office for what seemed like an eternity. He walked in with a file and sat across from me behind his desk. Anyone that walked in would have thought it was a job interview. Side note: I am very good at holding it together, especially if I am not with someone close to me. The first words out of his mouth as he sat down were, "I wish I had better news." I didn't really hear much after that, but I kept my gaze directly on him appearing to listen intently for this very medical terminology to tell me that I wasn't pregnant anymore. I was at 12 weeks when all this happened. The baby had stopped growing at 9 weeks. It's called a "blighted ovum." It wasn't anything I had done. Sometimes it just happens. It just happens, but why to me? We scheduled a D&C for Thursday. I left the office, passing my sweet Daddy in the waiting room and half mumbling we had to go. He could barely keep up with me as I walked to the elevators asking what was wrong as he hurried after me. This was it. I was away from people I didn't know, and I lost it as I told him sobbing, "I'm not pregnant anymore!" That was Sept. 10th, 1991. Many emotions would run through me the days and weeks ahead. Lots of anger at God, myself, just life. Deep sadness, grief really. I think miscarriage and how it affects someone is a little better understood these days. Back then, no one knew what to say. Someone very close to me actually called it a "female problem." People didn't treat it like a death back then, and yes, it isn't like losing a living, breathing child, but it is the death of a dream and a hope for a life. I did get pregnant again, almost as soon as the doctor said we could start trying, but this pregnancy was different. I didn't let myself get as excited as I did the first time. I, myself, never bought anything for my baby until she was born. As silly as it sounds, I was afraid to jinx myself. A year and 2 weeks after I lost my first baby, my Rainbow Baby was born. She was healthy and such a good baby. They are called Rainbow Babies because a rainbow signifies hope after a storm. What a beautiful sentiment. If I had not lost my first child, I may not have had her, and I certainly would not have had my second child as both of my pregnancies were filled with health issues. I would have stopped at 2 or maybe the first. I always say that everything happens for a reason. We may not see how the puzzle piece fits at the time, but it is part of a beautiful masterpiece. I am so glad my "Rainbow" is part of the mix!

When Love Walked In

About this time 21 years ago I was basking in the afterglow of a wonderful exciting experience. It all began when I was doing a show at Dogwood Dell called City of Angels. I met a talented actress named Katie McCall, and we became fast friends. She told me that she was involved in an independent filming project. A friend of hers was shooting his first feature film, and he was looking for someone to play her quirky mother, was I interested? Of course I was! One Saturday she and I drove up to Charlottesville to read through the screenplay. I was in. I was so excited! I had never done any camera work, let alone a film. Before it was all said and done we went through several cast changes before our first day of shooting. Because of conflicts Katie was not able to play my daughter, but a cast was assembled, and in a mild week in the spring of 1998 I traveled up Route 64 to a suburb of Charlottesville to start shooting. If you don't know anything about making a film, it's very expensive! As I said, this was an independent film. The filmmakers were spending all of their own money to make the film. No big studio budget to spend. Everyone involved was working for free, including me. It was a real family operation. The producer was also starring in the film. He and his brother were co-directing. His 3 year old daughter was playing his daughter, and he and his wife put me up in their home for the week of shooting. His Mom and Dad and wife were Kraft services and provided all the cast and crew's meals. They didn't really know me at all, but they welcomed me and made me feel like one of the family too. I learned so much in that week! And they were incredibly patient with this Stage actress. I'm pretty sure I deafened the sound guy with my projection and my over the top style kept moving out of the shot, but by the end of the week I learned to be subtle and act for the camera. We finished the week, and knew we would all be back in July to wrap it up. The week in July actually ended up being a lifesaving distraction for me as my marriage of 15+ years had just ended weeks before. We wrapped on a humid July night. I would not even see the film until 10 years later. Remember, I said it was independent. A whirlwind of activity surrounded my 10 year reunion with the film. It had been accepted to the Bare Bones International Independent Film Festival, and it was nominated for several awards including a nod for me as Best Actress. I flew out to Muskogee,OK to screen the film and attend the awards with the brothers. I ended up winning. It was a dream realized for this actress. I got to experience all of this because of one man, Kent Williamson. I found out quite by accident last night through Facebook that Kent was tragically killed in a car accident last Friday along with 3 of his family members. A drunk driver ran a stop sign, and Kent and his family all died at the scene. He reached so many with his films. The film I was lucky enough to be in was called When Love Walks In. Ironically, the film deals with a man, Kent, who loses his wife to a car accident, and it follows his journey through grief as he tries to raise his 3 year old daughter alone. I have been told that grief counselors use the film to illustrate all the stages of grief to their clients. My heart aches for this family whose amazing love and faith will sustain them through this terrible, terrible tragedy. Their love walked into my life at just the time I needed it, and I will never forget that experience for the rest of my days. Rest in Peace, Kent Williamson. You have left a legacy for generations to come. You are not truly gone as you will live on in your art and in the hearts of everyone you touched.