Journal Entry #15
October 10, 2013
August 15th, 2013 I lost my son. Fifty-seven days ago Miles and I said goodbye to our child. The one we had hoped for, prayed for, longed for, yet when he graced us with his presence, he did so with eyes closed and breath silent.
Brokenness found me, cupping my heavy head in its hands as I searched for the answers as to why my precious baby was born early. Why he wasn’t given the chance to grow and live within my arms, but instead, whose image can only be locked deep within my heart for the rest of my life as the curves of his face slip my mind at times.
I only had a few hours to learn the love of my little boy before he was swept away forever, leaving little trace that he had even existed.
That’s not what I wanted for Zach. That’s not what his father wanted either. Though he only touched the earth with a memory, he meant something to this world. As the doctors and nurses offered their condolences as I walked aimlessly through the dismal grief of loss in the hospital after giving birth, I found little relief as the wounds of heartbreak festered. My son MEANS something, he never MEANT something. He IS something, and his spirit still exists in my life. It will always linger there.
This morning, as I pulled myself out of bed, the plight of another day weighing me down I knew what I had been feeling lately was more than a dream. It had blossomed into an indescribable reality.
Miles and I stood together in our bathroom, his arms draping my slumped shoulders and my stomach churning with nervousness and that of new life. The life that lay within my womb once more.
“I’m pregnant. How can that be? We tried for ages to have Zach, and without the help of fertility drugs, we would have never known the beauty of life that lay within our son. How?”
My husband stood beside me, tears in eyes, speechless as he gazed at the double lines that spoke to both of us that miracles are truly possible.
“Our rainbow baby, Alana.” I gazed into my husband’s eyes wet with tears, as a slew of emotions trickled down his cheeks.
“How do you know what a rainbow baby is?”
He shrugged, placing the pregnancy test on the bathroom counter before turning my eyes towards his. “Sometimes dreams mean things. I think I’d like to keep the rest of that dream private for now.”
I glared at him somewhat disapprovingly. He continued, a soft smile on his face, “Some things a father and a son speak about, whether in reality or within the images of a dream, are meant to stay between a father and a son.”
I knew what he meant. Zach, my son who I knew watched over me from the billowy clouds of heaven, had softened the heart of his father. And perhaps, he had blessed us with this child to remind us that life is sacred. Precious. Unforgettable. But life lives on through those we love.
Love brought Miles and I together; it formed us, bound us. Zachariah had molded us. And now another child would teach us. Teach us that a hovering spirit of those we have loved and lost are forever woven into not only the past, but also the present and the future.
Hope exists. Grief exists. Baby loss is real. It hurts. Yet it has molded me into the woman I am today, and because of my son’s life, I am better because of it.
Written and owned by Valerie King at http://www.valeriekingbooks.com