My partner and I recently decided to “try again” as others have put it. Trying again to me implies we failed the first time, and I just don’t feel that’s true. My sons were perfect and healthy, just not alive. My body failed them, my doctors failed them, my partner and I did not.
It’s amazing to me that “will you try again?” were usually the first words out of everyone’s mouths when we lost our sons. It’s not something we were even thinking about at the time, but thanks to everybody asking constantly it was put into our heads, almost like we were forced to think about it. Or at least I felt that way. My partner didn’t even want to talk about it back then.
And then one day we ran out of condoms. We decided to go without. The next day we had a big conversation about me getting pregnant again. And my partner said that he was okay with that. And that’s when we started trying to conceive again, although now it turns out I probably conceived the night before.
We’re not telling anyone, but I don’t mind sharing it with the internet at the moment – yes, we are expecting our “rainbow baby”.
I don’t know if I like the term “rainbow baby”. The sentiment behind it is lovely, but I don’t like the idea of my sons being our “storm”. Neither of those words just sit right with me. I guess I only use the term here because you all understand what it means. For me, this isn’t really a “rainbow baby” this is our “baby number 3”.