Tears and Rainbows

I feel like I’ve been neglectful of this blog lately. For a while, it was easy to share every thought that was in my head, but lately it has become more difficult.

It is never easy to bare your soul. I have tried to be open and honest and real here. I have tried to not hide away the pain behind a mask of flowery words and pretty pictures, and yet I’ve tried shine a positive light. I try not to focus on the dark moments where all I can manage to do is cry as Patrick tries to hold me tight, his own tears falling quietly.

The truth is we have good days. We have days where we feel like Patrick and Victoria, a happy, very much in-love couple with very few worries in our life. We can go to the movies, watch tv, work in the yard, go shopping, play games, talk, laugh, and have fun. We are very thankful for good days.

But then there are the not-so-good days. I don’t even want to call them bad days, because honestly even in the worst of times we manage to smile and to love. There are the days where we see a small baby,or we hear a little boy call out for his mommy and daddy. Or we find our selves watching Despicable Me and I start bawling while listening to the story of the 3 little kittens:

“Sleep in peace until you rise.
Though while you sleep, we are apart… your mommy loves you with all her heart.”

There are no warnings for when the tears will fall.

There has not been a day yet where I haven’t cried. I determine the good days from the not so good days by how well I’m able to function in between the tears. There are some days where it is impossible to focus on anything else. There are days where the physical act of getting out of bed really should warrant an award of some kind. Making it in to work and managing to get anything accomplished is a wonder that truly deserves recognition.

But even in those dark days when we feel like we are drowning despite all of our efforts to stay afloat, we still are able to count ourselves blessed. We hurt. We are sad. We cry. We have faced the worst heartbreak imaginable and yet we stand – together we are able to stand.  Together, I know we can face anything that life throws at us, and for that I am so thankful.

I’ve read so many stories of people that have lost a child and their marriage slowly dies along with them. I don’t see that for us. If anything, losing Joshua has brought us closer together. It has made us stronger than we could have ever imagined to be.


We are slowly opening up the conversation regarding pregnancy and having another child.

It is a terrifying idea.

I’m sad that next time I won’t be as purely excited as I was with Joshua.  Next time, the joy will be mixed with fear.  Right now I’m trying to process what that might feel like.  I’m trying to prepare my heart and my mind to carry a baby alongside grief.  It feels like our innocence has been stolen from us.  The idea that you meet, fall in love, get married, settle into a home, get pregnant, and have a baby is forever scarred with the knowledge that getting pregnant, that doing everything right, does not guarantee that you will be bringing a baby home at the end of it all.

It’s hard because Joshua was our first child.  We have no other children to hold tight.  We have no other children that we can give all of this love and energy to.  We had Joshua and then we didn’t.

There is a phrase that is used frequently in the loss community “rainbow baby”

A 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.

Saturday night I cried thinking about the beautiful rainbow that I had watched spread across the sky.  I want that.  I want that hope.  I want that joy.  I want that beauty after the storm.

This year has been one intense storm.

We have been beaten down.  We have been broken.  We are still covered in rain and dark clouds.  We are tired.  We have been hurt.  It is my every prayer that this storm will give way to a beautiful rainbow – that our lives will be filled with joy, hope, and some much needed peace.  I don’t know when we’ll get there.  (I don’t honestly don’t even know if we will ever get there – it’s out of our hands.)  But, God, I’m praying that we get there soon.

I’m praying that this storm, that has forever changed us, will bring us to our very own rainbow someday soon.




2 thoughts on “Tears and Rainbows”

  1. God is healing your broken heart and giving you some smiles , not that you will ever forget that beautiful Josh he will be forever in our heart and some day we see him again and be together forever, ‘God promised that and I believe it.! Love you,


  2. Baby loss mothers would say that having other children would help heal the pain of losing Ian. I couldn’t stand those women who tried to comfort me when I was in the thick of my grief. But now that I have my two living sons (even with many more losses after Ian and scattered between my boys), I get what they meant. I feel compelled to share this with you. I want to give you hope. The intense grief and longing for Ian was eased by my pregnancy with Nathan. Even though my pregnancy with Nathan was riddled with fear and anxiety and surgery and pain and worry…… I can tell you that the joy and love that arrived with my living children is a joy and love that can only be experienced by a baby loss mama. Ian has never been replaced by my other boys but I love them in ways I never thought possible because of Ian. I see them in ways I never thought possible, for instance if Ian had lived, they would not be here. It is a strange and confusing feeling to have in hindsight. I have an easier time living in the moment and cherishing everything with them. Ian has helped in other ways I could never have anticipated for instance I’ve lived with a crippling fear of death and the afterlife so I always wondered how I would go about teaching my children about such things. I don’t have to worry about that now because it comes naturally when we teach them about Ian. We have talked about Ian to our children from the moment they were born, letting them know everything about their older brother and what happened to him. They have this amazing ability to take a situation that was so horrifying for my husband and I, and spin it into this lovely relationship. They LOVE having an older brother in heaven to watch out for them and to love. They look forward to seeing him again one day and the other babies we miscarried much earlier. They LOVE being my rainbow babies. It has made death into something joyful and NOT fearful for them. It has given them an insight that I have not seen with many children. A gentleness and an understanding that could only come from having a brother in heaven and parents who have suffered a loss of this magnitude. I know your grief is fresh and none of this might help you right now but I felt compelled to share. We honor our living children and our heavenly children publicly whether or not it will make others uncomfortable and I’m so glad you do that as well. I never thought I would say this but our loss has given our life a richness with our living children that I’m not able to put into words and I know that if you decide to get pregnant again, that you will experience this as well. We were not spared further loss and had many other miscarriages with different circumstances sprinkled within our journey to build a family, some of which I almost didn’t come back from, but with each loss and with each new layer of grief…. a sweetness and explicable joy was added to our experiences bringing our living children into this world, a sweetness and joy saved just for us. And for you. I look forward to watching this happen for you. Your always in my thoughts. Thank you for your blog. xoxo


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