Rainbow Babies

In 2004, my oldest sister and I were both expecting. She had a two-year-old son and was elated to be pregnant with a girl.  Although I didn’t know my child’s sex, we dreamed about close these cousins were going to be.  My son was born in December she was due in March.

The day before my sister was induced, her baby stopped moving. In preparation for the birth, my mom was staying at her house.  She assured my sister that everything was fine.  “The baby’s so big, there’s nowhere for her to go” she said.  

But my sister intuitively sensed that something was wrong.  A mother’s intuition is strong.  She and her husband went to the hospital, just a few hours before they were supposed to check in for her induction.

Soon after arrival, they learned the devastating news that there was no heartbeat.  My niece had died.  My sister was immediately induced and gave birth to her lifeless baby girl.

In shock, I flew to California, holding my three month-old baby boy, crying.  I arrived at the hospital in time to see my niece.  She looked like my mom with her dark hair. Despite having no pulse or color, she was a beautiful baby.  Peaceful and still.

That baby girl, Whitney Ann would have celebrated her sixteen birthday this past month.  It’s hard to believe that much time has passed.  Every year on her birthday my sister and her family go to the California coast to remember their daughter/sister.  Somehow it is simultaneously a beautiful and heartbreaking tradition. 

Whitney is our angel.

How did my sister recover? She has a strong faith, incredible friends, solid family and a loving husband.  They continued to have more babies and are raising three boys who are so fun – just like my sister.  

Her pain was neither permanent nor personal.  Losing Whitney was anything but perfect.  Her experience reminds me that every child born is a true miracle.

A few weeks ago, I responded to a text from the University of Utah.  There was a mother in labor requesting a volunteer doula. I had the honor of supporting her through the end of her labor and birth.   She was a strong, determined and focused mama.  Every contraction, I pressed her hips - offering counter pressure and reminding her to breathe. 

She was desperate for her daughter to be born.  She continually talked to her baby girl, Iris, and invited her come out. 

I asked her partner why they chose the name Iris.

“She’s our rainbow baby” he said quietly.  I didn’t know what he meant at the time but I pieced it together.  The mother told me after Iris was born that she had had experienced nine miscarriages and a stillbirth.  Iris was their first live baby.   “Oh,” I whispered as I held her hand.

Later, I read that a rainbow baby is the name for a healthy baby born after loss. The name “rainbow baby” comes from the idea of a rainbow appearing in the sky after a storm, or after a dark and turbulent time. Iris is the personification of the rainbow in Greek Mythology.  

Baby Iris was a beautiful as her name.

My nephews Charlie and Tommy are also rainbow babies.  We waited a long time for them and now that we know and love them, we can say that it was worth the wait.