Dear Rainbow Baby,
It’s me—your mama. And you are my precious child.
Right now you are here with me, hidden between the walls of my womb. I imagine it’s loud in there as my heart pulses blood through the body we’re sharing and amniotic fluid swirls around you. But I pray you can still hear me.
I want you to know how much I love you.
From the moment those lines on the pregnancy test alerted me to your presence, I have loved you. And nothing will cause me to stop. Whether near or far, I hope you can always feel my love. It’s true that I’m not perfect—and I hope one day you get the chance to experience all of my imperfections. But as your mama, I promise that loving you will be the one thing I always get right.
I’m sorry I haven’t told many people about you yet. It’s not because I don’t think you’re real. It’s not because I don’t think you matter. You are real and you do matter—you matter so much more than you could possibly know. It’s just that I’m scared. I’m scared that you’ll disappear. Vanish. Die. Just like the baby who lived inside me before you came along. I’m scared that if I tell people about you, I’ll have to take it back; that with tears rushing down my cheeks and a voice that is unrecognizable, I’ll have to tell them you’re gone. Yes, conversations about you have been limited, but my love for you is too great to be measured.
You need to know that it’s not just me who loves you.
It’s your daddy, too. He’s taking such good care of me so I can focus on taking care of you. Your sister who’s sleeping next to me—to us—right now is already so in love with you and can’t wait to meet “her” new baby. You have a brother in heaven, too, and while I’d love for you to know him someday, I pray that I get to know you first. And I can’t forget the grandparents. They love you so much! Did you know there are actually two sets of them? Which means there are four people who can’t wait to give you all the candy and ice cream you could possibly want.
Earlier today I saw you bouncing around on a screen—up and down, back and forth, around and around. Your heart was dancing so beautifully and I prayed that you’ll always be so full of life. I prayed that I would be able to watch you jump on the couch with your sister, and bounce on the trampoline in our backyard, and dance with me in the kitchen while dinner cooks. I imagined all the things that you might do one day. Basketball. Ballet. Karate. Gymnastics.
But it’s possible that you might never have the chance to do those things.
If that turns out to be the case, I want you to know I’ll always be thankful that I get to be your mama. Even if you leave this life before I do. I don’t take you for granted and I promise I never will.
I look forward to rocking you. To changing your diapers. To watching you roll over, then crawl, then walk. I look forward to hearing the sound of your voice and seeing you drift to sleep in my arms. I want so badly to show you the beauty in this world. The ladybugs and wildflowers. The sunsets and snowflakes. The stars and the mountains that seem to touch them. And especially the rainbows that color the sky—you’ll love those. And I’m clinging to the hope that we’ll get to experience those things together.
I am proud to be your mama, Baby. And so very thankful to call you mine. There is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you and nothing could truly separate us.
While I can’t wait to meet you, please don’t rush to get out of there. Take your time. Grow. Become big and strong. Please don’t hurry, just stay safe.
RELATED: What is a Rainbow Baby?
But if you can’t do that—if you have to go—promise me you’ll carry my love with you forever. And know that I’ll carry you with me forever. If you have to go, Baby, tell your big brother “Hi” from all of us and that we love him as much as we love you.
Rainbow Baby, just in case I never get to meet you, I want you to know I’ll never forget you. And I’ll love you as long as my heart is beating.
No matter what happens, Baby, I’m lucky to call you mine.