I’m not *quite* ready to discuss it yet, but I did share that the baby I am currently pregnant with will be our Rainbow Baby. I have received messages with questions about what that means and emails of support from people I don’t even know. Social media may get a bad rap, but the fact that strangers can reduce me to tears with words of kindness and love just goes to show you – it’s not all bad.
Having a miscarriage changed me in ways I didn’t even know was possible, and in ways I’m not proud of. My patience is nowhere near where it was before. It’s hard to know whether H or I cry more during his meltdowns. I am ashamed to admit that there have been more than one occasion where I snapped and raised my voice to levels I swore it would never get to when H won’t cooperate. I became more reclusive, because it was easier to stay inside in our jammies all day, where I didn’t have to see the pregnant bellies that plagued me everywhere we went. We watched more TV than I ever would normally allow, because it meant I could have an electronic babysitter.
Shame. Shame Shame.
I am working on getting myself back to where I was, but coming to the realization that that may not be quite possible. And I’m learning that’s going to have to be ok. There are certain things in life that change a person, and this was one of those events for me. But that doesn’t mean I can let myself ruminate in my sorrow anymore.
The past two weeks, I have been making a huge effort to be more conscious of my parenting with H, because its not fair for me to take out my anguish on him. When he refuses to eat, instead of saying “Fine!” and taking him off the chair, I get on his level and talk to him. I ask him if he’d like to help me make something else, if he’d like to help me pick something else out. Of course, he’s still a sassy toddler, so half of the time he still says “uhhhh no sanks”. But that’s ok.
Instead of huffing when he starts throwing a fit, I go over and give him a hug and rock him until he calms down. I speak in gentle tones and tell him I love him.
I spend most of his naps just laying next to him, soaking in his health and pure youth. I study the different amber and driftwood colors of his hair – and have discovered that above his left ear, he has a random blonde streak in the center of one of his curls.
We go get donuts at our favorite local place when it’s been an especially rough day, even though he just eats the icing and toppings off his, and then abandons it and then turns his puppy dog eyes over to mine. Because its something special that we can do together, and it helps to erase the doubts I have to see him so happy.
I read him the same book a third and fourth and fifth time when he asks, because I can, and because he is a sweet, well meaning, polite, spunky little person who teaches me something new every day. And because our days together, just the two of us, will soon be changed by the arrival of this baby. And sometimes he just deserves to be said “YES” to.
Toddlerhood has not been easy, this pregnancy has not been easy, recovering from
my our loss has not been easy, but motherhood and parenting has never promised to be. All I can do is promise to try a little harder, and to have a little more faith.