Rainbow baby – Page 3 – Sunshine, Angels and Rainbows

Falling Down the Rabbit Hole

I feel it happening again. Admittedly this time it took much longer for me to unravel. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not though?

I’m 5 weeks from welcoming another baby. A little girl. After everything, Darcy finally gets a sister. Things feel completely incomplete (if that makes any sense?)

They’ve had me on Unisom for most of this pregnancy for sickness, so sleep has been a blessing. Now as I’m nearing the end though, the insomnia is stronger than the pills and I find myself back to where I was when I was pregnant with Fletch. Scared, sad, lonely, angry and just generally exhausted. These rainbows really take a lot out of you.

The hormones probably don’t help either. Or the screaming toddler or 8 year old with the attitude of a teenager. Sigh. I thought this pregnancy would be easier, emotionally at least, because it was a girl. Well it’s hitting hard now.

It’s a reality smack of everything I’ve lost all over again. It’s knowing that my mom isn’t here to help, which has been horrible with each pregnancy. It’s knowing that Darcy gets to grow up with a sister, but Fletcher will never know his big brother. They will never share that bond.

Maybe it’s because this is it for me. I should be excited for that, I haven’t had easy pregnancies. But it’s just another ending, another chapter of my life over and that makes me sad.

I cannot believe that she will be my fourth. In a million years I never thought I would have so many children. In a million years I never thought that I would lose one.

A Boy

I remember wondering what it would be like to have a boy after I had Benny. I never expected him, never expected a son. I love this article, it articulates everything I love about my boys and everything I miss about my Benny.

Being A Boy Mom

Fletch’s Song

When I was dropping Fletch off to daycare one day with Sandy, she and her niece were talking about the songs that they sing to their little ones. I hadn’t really given much thought to what I sang to the kids until that moment. And I realized that without planning it, they each had their own little diddy that I would sing them to sleep with.

Parker always sang Yellow Submarine. To all of the kids. I don’t know why, it was just his sleep song for them. Now it’s one of those annoying ones that gets stuck in my head because I’ve heard it so often over the last 9 years.

So Fletch’s song was completely accidental. Just something that I started to sing because I heard it. It’s actually a love song, but can be completely interpreted to our situation. When I looked at the lyrics and it couldn’t be a more appropriate song for this little guy.

1,000 Years

Grateful

There’s a reason why I don’t write as much anymore, although I’d really like to. His name is Fletcher.

He’s just exhausting. I’ve never met a more tempermental, strong-willed individual. We thought that Darcy was our tough one until we met Fletch.

He screamed for his first hour of life, completely inconsolable. The nurses said they’ve never had a louder baby in the nursery. It hasn’t stopped. He’s a screamer. Don’t mistake that for crier or whiner, SCREAMER. It seems as if everything is world ending to this little guy. I would probably find it funny if it wasn’t ALL DAY LONG. It’s to the point where we are trying to just ignore it so that he doesn’t learn to use it as a means of communication.

He’s also a hitter and hair puller. When he wants to nurse (which I’m convinced will NEVER end), he comes over to me and starts hitting my chest. I’ve tried several different ways to correct this, but he’s damn strong willed. Then when he does nurse, he pulls my hair. Not just pulls, but rather yanks at it. I have short hair all around my face from this and now wear headbands to keep it out of my face. It’s a lovie to him, so it’s a hard habit to break. Oh and there’s the whole screaming thing again.

And don’t get me started on sleep. I’m not sure I even know what that is anymore, unless it’s curled into a little sleeping person. If I’m being honest, I do love snuggling the little guy, but not every night, every nap. And naps? It’s a war of wills until one of us breaks (lately it’s been him giving in around 3 PM because he’s so damn tired). I fight and fight for an hour plus just to get 45 minutes out of the kid. What can you really get done in 45 minutes??

I’m pretty sure Fletch’s middle name should have been ‘indifference.’ He’s seems to have gotten a little better, but I’m pretty sure this child spent the first year of his life enjoying being unhappy. Or bored. Or whatever his issue was. There was one night when my husband said to my daughter, ‘uhoh, I think Fletch broke Mommy.’

I’ve never been more challenged in my life. My old job was nothing compared to parenting this child. And I haven’t even hit the true toddler stage yet! I’ll be over here waving the white flag when that happens.

Is this what a stressful pregnancy creates? Did I do this because I was so freaked out? Or is this just the cocktail of DNA that we got? Maybe I should have done more yoga and taken up meditation. My therapist kept warning me to calm down.

So I’ll publish this, and about 5 minutes later the guilt will sink in. I’ll feel terrible for committing any of this in writing. For allowing it to seem like I’m frustrated (even though I am). I say these things and then I think about how lucky we are that Fletch is here. Not everyone gets a rainbow. And I feel just ungrateful.

I remember what it was like wanting another baby so badly. I remember how excited we were when I was first pregnant. I remember how lucky I felt that I was able to have a baby again.

It’s like a tennis match back and forth in my head all day. It’s hard to feel empathetic and selfish at the same time. I never felt this way with the other two. His life is so tied into Benny’s death and it complicates everything.

So for the moment I will try to feel grateful, until the screaming starts.

Pause

Fletch is not feeling well.

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He’s whiny (more than usual) and running a slight fever. It’s most likely teeth, but now I panic.

He’s finally sleeping AND napping and doing it well. It’s like he’s a new baby. He won’t settle tonight though and is uncomfortable, which tells me he’s not feeling so hot. That and he really didn’t eat much at dinner.

I’m scared. This is the first time that he’s really been sick. I’m writing this with him in my arms as I try to convince myself that he will be ok tonight.

No one likes seeing their child sick. I don’t like where my thoughts go, how paranoid I get. This is what happens. There’s no trust that something awful won’t happen.

I think it’s become worse now that he’s older. Every day we creep closer to him hitting 17 and a half months. I cannot bubble wrap him and stick him in a helmet. He’s going to get sick, he’s going to get hurt, it’s just so tough not to completely fall apart when it happens.

It’s time to pause and just breathe.