08/22/2025
It’s that look on the ultrasound tech’s face you never forget....
If you’ve seen it before, your stomach drops instantly.
If it’s the first time, you still know.
Something’s wrong.
They try to keep their voice steady.
They force a smile.
And then they say, “the doctor will be right in.”
But you already know why.
The heartbeat you were desperate to see,
never flickers on the screen.
The tiny hands and feet you dreamed of,
never appear.
After that, no pregnancy is ever the same again.
Fear.
Grief.
Pain.
They speak louder than the joy of two pink lines.
You know too well how fragile it all is.
I’ve been told to “move on.”
To “just try again.”
As if another baby replaces the one I lost.
As if you can forget a child
you never got the chance to name.
Sometimes you’re the only one
who even remembers they existed.
No birthdays.
No photos.
Just silence.
And then, for some,
after all that, comes a rainbow.
AJ & Theo are my rainbow babies-
They brought color back into my life.
They gave me laughter after silence.
They reminded me that hope can grow again in the same soil where grief lives.
And while they didn't erase the storm.
They carry it with them.
They are living proof that grief and love can exist in the same heartbeat.
That you can ache for the babies you’ll never hold while fiercely loving the ones in your arms.
National Rainbow Baby Day (August 22nd) matters because no one talks about this enough.
Behind every rainbow is a storm.
Behind every smile is a scar.
I honor every parent
who has ever carried both love and loss
in the same heartbeat.
If you’re parenting after loss, you already know.
If you’re still waiting for your rainbow, you’re not alone.
🤍🌈
