The Power of Four

This last week has been hard. I really didn’t expect it to be this bad. I guess it took some time for the realization of what was happening to sink in. Late last week, I could go through the motions. I was functioning and doing OK. In my mind, I had convinced myself that I had gotten used to this. I had losses before and survived, this was just another bump in the road. Over the weekend it really hit me, and the reality of it continues to pummel me every day.

I have lost 4 children. FOUR. There is something about that number that knocks the wind right out of me. When I stop and think about it for even a second, it literally feels like someone has hit me in the chest, and I have to concentrate on breathing. I have lost more children than most people have in their lifetime.

I know there are people who probably think I’m being dramatic about this. The last 3 were early losses – do they even count? Thankfully, no one has ever asked me that question, but I know that people think it. I have to admit that I struggle with it too. The loss of Vivienne was different, I can’t deny that. We had nearly 6 months of planning for her arrival. We felt her kick. We saw her heartbeat. We held her as she slipped away from us. We kissed her tiny face. And we have her remains well protected in our home. There is a tangible reality to Vivienne that we don’t have for the other babies.

Yes, we lost them very early. Yes, they never had a chance to survive. But each of them was real. We loved them from the moment we knew about them. We made plans for each of them immediately – calculating a due date and thinking about the time they would be with us. If you’ve ever taken a pregnancy test, you know that the dreams and planning start the very second you see a positive. You immediately feel a sense of responsibility for this growing life. The love and instinct to protect snap right into place. Those 3 babies were as loved and wanted as any child, including Vivienne.

After the first early miscarriage in January, I struggled with what to do to honor that baby. He/she doesn’t have a name or even a nickname. A fellow loss Mom suggested that I give the baby a symbol – something that represents them that I can use to remember them. Vivienne has her rainbows, so after each loss, I try to figure out a meaningful symbol for each baby. Baby #2 is a sun, as we’d just taken a trip to Florida. Baby #3 is a heart, because we found out we were expecting on Valentine’s Day. I’m still figuring out the symbol for Baby #4. I don’t want to arbitrarily pick just anything – I want it to mean something and be special for that baby. Each was special and loved, and I want them to know that.

Each loss has been heartbreaking for us, but there is something about this latest loss that feels like a heavier weight. After experiencing loss again and again, I’m feeling more and more like I’m caught up in a raging current. I’m trying to pull myself above water and fighting to take a breath, but the waves keep pushing me down. I’m doing my best to tread water, but I have to wonder how many more waves will crash in and how long the storm will last.

Rainbows

I remember hearing a friend talk about losing her Mom, and the significance she saw in fireflies. Whenever she saw them, it made her feel like her Mom was close to her. After Vivienne died, I longed to have something, some symbol, that would make me feel a connection to her, like she’s sending me a message from heaven.

I thought about this a lot in the days and weeks after we lost her. Often when I did, a song that was popular at the time would come on the radio. It took me some time, but I finally took the message from the first verse.

Lord, make me a rainbow, I'll shine down on my mother

She’ll know I’m safe with You

When she stands under my colors.

Oh, and life ain’t always what you think it ought to be, no,

Ain’t even grey, but she buries her baby.

The sharp knife of a short life.

It’s from the song “If I Die Young” by the band Perry. It was a pretty popular song around the time that Vivienne died, so I heard it a lot. I took my sign that this was the symbol I was looking for—that rainbows would be a message from my daughter.

I didn’t know it then, but there is special significance to the rainbow in the loss community. Children that come after loss are commonly called our “rainbows.” Someone once told me that, in mythology, rainbows represent a bridge from heaven to earth (I looked it up and it’s true). Everything I saw and heard reinforced the sign that the rainbow is a connection to my daughter.

And so it’s a symbol that I hold dear. Our Vivienne Bear (www.mollybears.com) has a rainbow on its chest. My ringtone is “Somewhere Over the Rainbow.” It is Vivienne’s special symbol, and one that helps me feel close to her.

When I have a tough day, I’ll say “Lord, send me a rainbow,” and I have to say, He usually does. Not always in the traditional ways we would expect, but I keep my eyes and ears open for it, and I find it. Often, it’s a picture of a rainbow that someone posts on Facebook—they don’t know that it’s the sign I’m always looking for, but there it is. Sometimes, I hear it in a song. And sometimes, it just shows up somewhere unexpected. I remember being in the doctor’s office once—laying on the table for yet another exam. As I looked at the ceiling, I saw that the light made a rainbow for me to focus on—a special message from my daughter. I love each of these unexpected ways that God and Vivienne send me rainbows. My response is always the same—message received baby girl, thank you.

While I love every one of these messages from my daughter, I have to admit, I’m longing for a real rainbow. Every day, I search the sky. I know that rainbows aren’t an everyday kind of thing, which is another reason I love it. When I see them, they are special messages from Vivienne and mean so much more. Some day soon, I’ll get that real rainbow (hopefully many times over the coming years). Until then, I’ll take my messages from Vivienne however she wants to send them. Each unexpected message lets me know she’s with us. Message received baby girl, thank you!