I had always been able to conceive within weeks of deciding to get pregnant. Admitting this, especially with my new circle of friends- many of whom suffer from infertility, is difficult. My eyes have been opened as to just how blessed I have been, and how naive to the miracle of life I had been. It was something that happened so easily, that I completely took for granted, and for that I carry a lot of disgust with myself. I'm embarrassed by my ignorance to this miracle.
Somewhere in my mind I still fully expected to be pregnant very soon. As traumatized as I was about becoming pregnant again, I knew deep down I really did want to be pregnant because every month I would buy a pregnancy test or two and obsess over being pregnant ...all secretly. Month after month my bitterness grew as I received multiple negative test results. How could it be so easy 5 times, then now it won't happen? It cut deep each time we weren't. I dreamed of announcing my rainbow baby, what I would say, when I would say it, I was soooo leery, but I wanted it soooo bad. I thought of names. I knew I wanted our rainbow's name to be significant, something that signified a rainbow, or a struggle or a miracle or overcoming something, something very significant.
It was about this time in my grieving, that I found a connection to Tesslee when I did family history. Mike and I became interested in our genealogy lines and a name popped out from his line that he really liked. Vickers. He wanted to name a boy Vickers. I liked something about it, I was more fond of the name Vick, though. Baby Vick sounded cute to me. We left that thought in the background, wondering if we would ever have use for it.
It had been 6 months of trying, and my bitterness was deep. Especially when our intentions were so pure and a baby would bring us the healing I so longed for. I felt the resent every time my kids begged to visit one of the baby nieces or nephews; I wanted them to enjoy their own baby sister, not someone else's baby. I turned to my angel moms, and for the first time let it out that we had even been trying:
"I'm glad that I have this place to let some stuff out. I have to admit, I can feel the bitterness creeping in again. Its crazy and I don't understand it. I don't know who I'm mad at, I don't think its God, but I guess I'm not for sure. I'm just mad at the whole situation. I've been really hurt lately that I haven't been able to get pregnant. Although the thought of that terrifies me. I don't even know if I would be a good mom anymore to a newborn. I avoid all things baby like the plague just to stay emotionally stable. Its so hard because Tesslee was decidedly our last baby and I gave away all our boy stuff once we found out Tesslee was a girl, and now that her chapter is over and we are empty-handed, I go back and forth all the time on if I want another baby or not. I think the main reason I do is because I've heard that rainbows heal a lot of that brokenness, and I will do anything to heal my heart. But every time it doesn't happen it just adds to the bitterness. Today I found myself thinking "Well I didn't want a baby anyway." ??????? I think my heart is just so broken. Do you guys battle with bitterness? I just feel so lonely, sad, misunderstood by my family and friends and completely messed up inside."
I found out I was pregnant later on that night, and discovered my conception and due date months were identical to Tesslee's. I was scared out of my mind! How would I make it through a pregnancy reliving every single milestone in line with Tesslee's? How would I ever be able to relax? I was still working through emotions with Tesslee's due date in July, and now there was another due date in July. The timing felt like a joke on me. It all seemed so intricately planned that I would try for months with no positive results, then the one month I was dreading getting pregnant I actually did. It was a lot to work through. I cried and cried nightly for so many reasons. However, it seemed that if I allowed it, it just might be a gift bringing home a baby in July. Maybe July would be redeemed. Maybe I should just trust that God knows what He is doing.
Sometimes at night I told this baby that I was sorry for all the strong emotions it was surely feeling. I tried desperately to relax and take control of my emotions. Although it was hard to admit, it felt really good to feel life living inside me once again: my swollen, tender breasts, the need to eat every couple hours, the intense fatigue, ... I felt this baby drawing on my body and growing. I was growing our family's rainbow baby. I loved having this secret.
Mike and I celebrated our 11th anniversary knowing a baby was with us. He happily referred to this baby as his anniversary gift. Mike had been wanting to bring home a baby for a very long time. After some sacred moments I felt it was a boy, and for that reason, we didn't even discuss girl names. Our main topic over our anniversary dinner was this new one and how much healing he will bring (thinking this nervously, cautiously, and hopefully.) After all, we should be allowing ourselves to think everything will be ok. Realistically, I was very healthy, all of our babies had never had any problems. Tesslee was completely healthy and passed away from a random umbilical cord accident. The odds that we would lose another baby were extremely low.
We decided on a name for him right there at dinner. Mike continued to like the family name Vickers, I liked Vick. We both have loved the name Porter or Port for years, so we came up with Victor Port Millward. I loved how strong and handsome it was. I could call him my Baby Vick. Port sounded just right with Victor...and the best part: I looked up Victor, and the name means "Conqueror." What a perfect name for our rainbow! By having him we will have conquered so many obstacles emotionally. Victor Port Millward. I loved it. I wrote my boys' names over and over: Jeff, Cade, Vick. I was in love. xoxoxo
I noticed how much easier it was to be around pregnant women and babies, just knowing a baby was inside once again. It seemed that all the trauma wasn't as center-stage anymore. It was continually present, but I was forced to look to the future. I felt like I would once again fit in with my family, where the baby boom has occurred. I loved taking prenatal vitamins for someone else, I loved eating healthily for my baby, I loved having the sense of duty to do all I could to keep Vick nurtured. And then, I noticed something didn't feel quite right.
Saturday night I noticed my breasts were less tender. I went all night without needing to snack every couple hours, and I wasn't nearly as fatigued as usual. I was immediately alarmed. My worst nightmare became front and center as I felt like Vick's life I had longed for was beginning to slip from me. I had a feeling that Vick would be miscarried. Of course I was only allowing the horrors of a bereaved mom take control of me. Surely God would not allow me to miscarry my rainbow -who my hope was desperately clinging to. My baby wouldn't die again. God gave us this gift. He wouldn't take it away after He already took Tesslee. I told Mike what I had noticed about my body. He gave me lots of support and told me to keep my mind in a positive place for this little one.
Sunday I began to spot lightly. I spent a lot of time in thought with Vick. Monday I was spotting heavier and beginning to cramp lightly. I called the doctor's office. They had me come in immediately for my first appointment. My doctor did an ultrasound. I saw our precious little one with my eyes for the first time. Our beautiful, tiny miracle, Vick. Our baby was in the right place, and my doctor said everything looked just fine and to not give up hope. He had me do routine blood work and wanted me to return in 48 hours to repeat the blood work to compare it. Seeing my baby calmed me some, but I still could not shake what I felt inside.
Monday night my bleeding increased, severe cramping set in and I went to bed early, trying to grasp any sort of hope I could, but knowing deep down what the outcome would be. I was up for hours breathing through burning, intense back cramps and labor-like pains. I don't remember falling to sleep, but I woke up at five in the morning, the pain was gone. The cramping had seemed to stop instantly. I was terrified, but rolled out of bed and went into the bathroom. I sat down on the toilet and felt clots pouring out. I grabbed the plastic cup I had on the counter and looked into the toilet, not wanting to lose my baby in all of it. I couldn't see a sac, just lots of blood and tissue. I wiped, felt bewildered and terrified, wondered what would be next, and continued to wait.
A couple minutes later I felt something large slide out and plop in the water. I knew exactly what it was. I immediately scooped it out. The entire grayish, whitish sac with my precious little baby was in the cup in my hands. I was shaking, yet felt an intense peace and reverence as I held our little miracle -our anniversary gift- and examined it. I could see the eyes in the head, and an under-developed little body. **There was such a reverence, one of the most sacred moments in my life, giving birth to my second angel.** I sat there and talked to our Vick for a long time. I told him how much he was loved, and that I was heartbroken that he was not our rainbow, after all. I cannot put to words the intense feelings and emotions I felt that early morning hour there in the bathroom with my baby.
My Vick's life was very significant, it has changed me. I think about him every day and often wonder what he is doing right now. What great work are my angels involved in? He must be amazing, only needing to stick around here for such a short time and then be off. He is my child and I plan on raising him someday. My life has become more meaningful since he quietly darted in and out of it. It is so hard to let go, I miss him immensely. My sight is set on Heaven.
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