I Believe in Rainbows

It was mid-January 2013.  I remember it well because like any other January it was miserable; wet and cold with the threat of snow.  I was working extra hours anticipating the impending trip to Vegas in March.  We'd just got married in October,  gone to Italy for our honeymoon and now we were hit with the post-wedding blues.  It really was a miserable time;  my dad had been diagnosed with cancer and was going through intense chemotherapy treatment.  My parents lived four hours away from us so there was also the guilt of not being able to be there for them in their time of need.  January truly sucked eggs and even worse I was starting to feel off and tired a lot. 

I can't quite put my finger on it but making my way home from work one night,  I suddenly felt twinges. My body was trying to tell me that something was changing and when my boobs ached out of nowhere,  I knew! I didn't tell my husband my suspicions.  I dug out a test from my drawers and locked myself in the bathroom.   I willed myself to pee so that I could get answers.  Waiting on the test felt like an age but there it was so faint; a line that told me I had a little passenger.  I sat staring at it, willing it to be stronger but a line was a line.  

A few days later, the line was stronger and my husband was finally convinced.   I think he didn't want me to get my hopes up after all the heartache we'd been through.  You see 2011 we had lost three little angels;  Jason, Lucy and little Alfie.  We'd given them a name to symbolise their lives and how important they had been in their short time with us.   That had been the worst year of our lives but this time something told me this one was sticking with us;  I couldn't help but believe in rainbows. 

We notified the Early Pregnancy Unit and they told us to wait until we were 6 weeks to come visit.  Going back there my heart was heavy as my previous visits were heartbreaking.  This time I could only hope for the best.  When they scanned me there was hardly anything to make out but the heartbeat was strong.  Watching that little heart pounding on the screen,  I squeezed my husband's hand.  I loved my baby straight away. 

We were scanned again at 9 weeks,  10 weeks,  12 weeks,  and 14 weeks.  Each time I watched that heart beating stronger;  seeing my little baby develop through the weeks was such a precious thing.  Not many women get to witness so many scans but my history meant they wanted to keep an eye on us.  Hearing the EPU team say they were releasing us was the best news in the world.  We got a scan at 16 weeks under the new team; I suspected this little peanut was a girl.  People had said to look out for lines but the midwife wouldn't confirm anything.  It wasn't until our dating scan that was found out we were having a boy! I cried.  I had secretly wanted a boy so I felt my prayers were being answered. 

While we were watching our baby grow, we would get scans and a copy was sent to my parents.  Those little pictures were to help my father with his battle.  At 3 months we'd visited him in hospital; he was extremely poorly and had to get an operation.  It was all happening while we were in Vegas so we wanted to make sure we saw him before we left the country.  While we were holidaying, my dad went through a lot of trauma; his bladder was removed and he nearly died several times.  My mum kept it all from me.  We were out of the country and didn't know the extent of what happened until several months later.  She was concerned that any additional stress to me might be harmful to the baby so I understood why so much was kept hidden because I truly was frightened we would lose my father. 

Pregnancy came with ups and downs but my boy stayed with us throughout.  Although I knew he was going to be our blessing,  I still carried the fear that something would go wrong.  I guess every mother does.  My belly swelled and we had a very warm summer.  I wasn't due until September but I left work in July after a bad fall left me quite sore and uncomfortable.  I was bored silly.  I'd walk the dog or drive out to visit friends and family.  We had named our boy but when our name had been used for a friend's child,  we were back to the drawing board.  I was eight months pregnant and we decided to go to the cinema.  We watched Wolverine and it was there we agreed his name.  We had a back up in case he didn't suit it but we knew it was perfect for him.

Our birth story started off a little boring; we were being induced so we waited around the hospital on the 24 September until they were ready to put in the pessary.  I had a private room so it was just me and my husband until he was told to leave around 9pm.  About 3am they gave me another pessary and a few hours later I started to get regular twinges.  My husband arrived around 9.30 and by that time I was contracting.  I refused pain killers because I was determined to prove myself that I could do this.  A few hours past and they came to check on me.  I was sent down to the labour suite but sent back up to the ward not long after that when they didn't feel I was ready.  The twinges kept going all day. 

My parents decided they were coming down so I told my husband to invite them and the in-laws over to the evening visit.  I remember sitting with them and my dad saying that there was no way the baby would be coming tonight. It was agreed that my husband would go home with them and come back if he was called out.  The nurses stopped my husband and told him we were going to the labour suite.  Things started to speed up a bit after that.   They discovered that the cord was at my little guy's head just minutes before going to break my waters.  Thankfully he had been a little bright spark as he keep pushing back and the doctor was concerned so she wanted me scanned. 

It was decided that he would be coming from the sunroof and we were whisked to an operating room.  It was the most surreal experience watching what felt like a covert operation happen around me.  They took several attempts to get the spinal into me.  I'd been frightened that they would have to put me under but thankfully it eventually worked.  I remember feeling numb and wondering what they were doing to my legs.  My husband was outsite waiting.  A midwife said they were making him into George Clooney and he'd join us in his scrubs soon.  It was the most nerve-wracking and exciting time.  We sat in anticipation waiting for our son to be born.  Then we heard him cry.  Oh how beautiful it was to hear those sobs.  They brought him to us for a moment before cleaning him up.  Our boy was a whopper at 8lbs 12 ounces.  After they stitched me up,  it was off to recovery for us.  My husband carried our son while I was wheeled through.  I was offered tea and toast.  Boy was that good.  I was starving but no sooner had I ate it,  it came back.   I felt great but awful as the drugs were wearing off.   Phoning our parents was hilarous because none of them believed that he would be here that night.  My mother in law squealed and my mum was in shock.   My husband was allowed to stay with us for a few hours but he went home while I lay in the ward desperate to sleep but dying to watch my baby. 

My son was the first grandchild on both sides and everyone loved him.  Our rainbow baby wasn't just a symbol of hope for us but for everyone around us.  We have been very lucky with him and while he is now a strong-willed , bright and cheeky four year old we have been thankful for every moment with him.   He is now embarking on his own journey and will soon be taking the next chapter when he starts school. 

We lost my dad in 2015; unfortunately cancer reared its ugly head again and it won the war.  My son wasn't even two but he remembered his Granda with fond stories.  We talk about my dad a lot and he has inherited a painting and many wildlife books from him.  I am grateful that my dad got the time he did.  I missed my him terribly.  We found out later that year that we had another passenger; another little one to join our family.  My second little boy is the most loving and caring child.  He idolises his brother and he just loves being part of the family.  He brought a smile back to my mother's face.  I cannot emphasise how much these children mean to me.

A rainbow isn't just a beautiful arch of colours in the sky; fo me it symbolises the end of the rain when the sunshine fights through.  A rainbow is a beacon of light after a greyness.  I've been blessed with two little rainbows; two boys who have given us new focus and helped us recover from sadness and loss.  We all think our children are special but my boys truly saved me.