Picture yourself on a tight rope walking across a deep river and you can’t swim, any false move or wrong step and it’s over; instantly like the snap of your fingers your world could crumble; add on the milestones from the last pregnancy that you only hope and pray you will make it past and that pretty much sums up just finding out your wife is pregnant again.
Our Rainbows journey was met with challenges and scary moments, from a Subchorionic Hematoma which put my wife on 90% bed rest for 10 weeks right in the early stages of the pregnancy, too Gestational Diabetes which we figured out was misdiagnosed and then the last 3 weeks of the pregnancy found us driving 40 minutes to the doctors twice a week to monitor blood pressure for hypertension and preeclampsia.
Trying to hold it together, stay positive and reassure my wife that everything will be okay while trying to stay numb too the possibility that it could all come to an end in a heartbeat felt very real. Yes I was scared, I didn’t show it, I didn’t talk about it… I couldn’t. I was more frightened at the possibility that I would have to console my wife a third time. Stacy was very adamant about having a V-back for this little rainbow; you see 11 years earlier she had an emergency C-section, so Mama needed some redemption.
I had nightmares of losing my wife during delivery, vivid images of the doctors looking at me and asking me to make the choice of who to save. This happened more than once throughout this pregnancy; it was all too real. Then August 3rd I received a phone call from Stacy at her follow up appointment, (That I should have gone to) her world had come crashing down, “The doctor is admitting me today and we are delivering Izabella by C-section August 4th”. I reassured her that at least it’s controlled and we know everything will be okay, but what she didn’t see was the fear and chills I had. I thought I felt helpless with the two miscarriages, but watching as the nurses prepped my wife for surgery made me realize there is nothing I can do or say at this point. Am I lying when I tell her everything will be just fine? Am I lying as I walk around up beat joking around and positive?
We walked down the hall to the operating room I was in my surgical gown, mask and cap; the nurse and Stacy passed through the double doors and I waited, helplessly. I was armed with my cameras, thinking what is the point. People walked by and smiled at me as I waited alone in the hall for what felt like an eternity. I was not smiling, I was crying out inside for God to be with her, I was lost without her, scared for her. I couldn’t talk to her to reassure her, I was helpless again.
They brought me in the room, it was so cold I shivered deep inside and the room seemed to echo. The bright white florescent light illuminated the sterilized blue sheets and gowns vividly. Everyone but Stacy and I were cheerful, laughing and talking like this was no big deal. I sat behind her head, her arms were stretched straight out and the sheet was high in the air at her chest.
We were so scared but Stacy was the only one that showed it. I spoke softly to her, I’m sure my voice was trembling as I told her I loved her and Izabella would be here soon. So much was going on around us, nurses scurrying here and there; then, then there was a cry a beautiful cry from our rainbow baby.
You see getting pregnant after a miscarriage is bitter sweet; you are joyous, apprehensive and scared to death all at the same time. There is no way really to describe it other than every minute… all 388,800 of them (give or take a few) feels like it could all fall apart in an instant..
But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. 34 Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own