After losing Adrian to undiagnosed preeclampsia, I was terrified to experience pregnancy for a second time. Terrified, but also holding hope. And my Peanut is finally here. This is her story.
I don’t call my daughter a rainbow baby because she deserves her own identity
A heavy, beautiful day today, and Peanut is officially laughing. Forever finding that balance in all of the feelings in life after loss.
My parents never talked to us about their losses, and I blame their generations. (Publicly) holding onto grief was something that wasn’t done. And so this grief was whispered, held tightly under cover, impacts erased before they could be explored. But these erasers only took away the surface.
While I understand the common reference to the loss of a child as a storm, the rainbow metaphor doesn’t work for me. My daughter is not a rainbow; she is a just a little girl, with her own unique identity.