When I was pregnant with Chase, I was in pregnancy bliss. Pregnancy is a wonderful thing, and yes, it should be enjoyed. I looked forward to the small talk from strangers asking about my due date and if I knew what I was having. I looked forward to the baby shower, shopping for maternity clothes, getting the nursery ready and an IV drip of chocolate milkshakes. That last one didn’t really happen, but I think this is an idea worth being explored. Like all moms, I had already started loving him, even when he was just an idea.
One of the things I lost when Chase passed away, was that pregnancy bliss. Please don’t misinterpret this as me being ungrateful for my rainbow pregnancies. As a great friend expressed to me about her rainbow baby – my rainbows saved me. I just missed that bliss. When people tell you everything is going to be fine and you actually believe them. When the only time period you supposedly have to worry about is the first trimester. When you have worries, but one of them isn’t having to meet your baby and say goodbye (again). 
I developed a serious allergic reaction to pregnancy bliss, brought on by that same small talk from strangers I once enjoyed. It was my own “stranger danger”. When I was pregnant with my first rainbow, and visibly showing, I’d try to avoid eye contact and walk waddle with purpose. People would ask me if I was having a boy or a girl. When I told them it was a girl, nine times out of ten, I’d hope that was the end of it. Ten out of ten times it wasn’t. They’d ask if this was my first. Ugh. I’d say no and then they’d ask if my oldest was a boy or a girl. Uncomfortable, party of one.
It was really dependent on my mood whether or not I’d take this as an opportunity to sprinkle this conversation with dust from the Sadness Fairy, or just go along with it. Once they knew my oldest was a boy, they’d make a comment that I had the perfect scenario and then comes the question, “How old is he?” or “How far apart are they going to be?”. I’m usually good with numbers, but this would start to become difficult to answer. Still is. In my head, I’m trying to do the math…well, he passed away when he was six months old, he’s been gone for three and a half years, carry the one, oh forget it. I’d respond “They would be sixteen months apart.” Usually people don’t pick-up on the past tenses, so they’d continue on, saying how busy I’m going to be with my children so close in age. They would try to relate further by telling me one of their favorite stories about their kids or grandkids. I remember one of these conversations vividly. It was before Bree (my first rainbow) arrived. I was in the produce section of the grocery store. The woman was about eighty-five years old. I seriously contemplated creating a diversion by toppling over the cantaloupe display, but decided that may be a little too much. Plus I couldn’t run very fast at that point (who am I kidding, I can’t run fast even when I’m not pregnant) and I would have ended up having to pay for twenty-five bruised melons.
Bottom line is that I never thought sadness and avoidance would be emotions that would ever be front-and-center during pregnancy, no matter how raging my hormones could get. I must admit, when I was pregnant with Matthew, my second rainbow, the intensity of these feelings was a little less. By then, I had experienced what it was like to keep a child and I’d started to allow myself to believe that just maybe I had already been exposed to my life’s worst. It was okay to enjoy a little. After all, allergies are known to change over time. As is grief.
5 Essentials to Rediscovering Your Joy After Loss
????????????????????
Your thoughts are so truthful. They touch my heart. Thank you for being so honest. xo