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!

Lost Connection

It's been 12 years. Sitting in my office this morning and reading Facebook posts about 9/11, I was trying to think of what kind of post to write. I didn't want to repeat myself, so I searched my own blog for previous posts I had written on the subject. I started to just share a previous post I had written in 2010 because I thought it pretty much summed up the way I feel, but just as I was about to hit the share button on Facebook, I stopped, not because the feelings I wrote about then don't still ring true for me, they do, but the picture I paint of America in that post isn't quite the same. My status update today asks the question, "Where were you?" But digging deeper, how did you feel then, and how do you feel now? 12 years ago, technologically, we were in a very different world. We listened to those reports of the attacks on a radio, or watched a TV set if we happened to be near one. If we were separated from our loved ones, we could not physically see them unless we drove to where they were. Yes, cell phones existed, but you could not call someone and see their face and talk to them on the phone. You could not shoot off a quick text of "You ok?" in between classes or coming out of a meeting at work. Today, we can communicate with each other instantly, and even if you couldn't get a call through, everyone would tweet or post, "I'm ok. Sending out prayers and love to all who have lost someone."  and the world would know just what was going on in our life at that moment. But for all of our advances in connectivity since September 11, 2001, we seem to have lost our connection. As is often the case when a tragedy of that magnitude strikes, everyone is united by their grief, their shock, their anger, their pain. We all come together. Together. I have to say, sadly, if someone asked me, today,  to name a word that describes America, together would not spring to mind. In fact, it may not be on the list at all. A friend shared something his mother used to say to him when he and his sister were getting along well, describing themselves as "Buddies to the end." To which his mother would reply, "And the end's not far away." I liken America to that. 12 years ago, we all stepped up. We thought of others before ourselves. We worked together for what was best for all. Now, we have become a people divided, caring only about being right and never admitting when we're wrong. Together isn't even in our vocabulary. It's my way or no way! Now, this seems like a pretty depressing post, but it was not my intention as I began to write this to depress anyone, more so to inspire. Do not wait for another tragedy to affect this country to come together, reach out, put someone's needs before your own. Build each other up! Don't tear each other down, and that includes celebrities! It all starts with one spark, and then another, and another, and another until there is a consuming fire of forgiveness, passion, and kindness. Be that spark! Start that fire!