Allie was our sun. She was literally the brightness in our days. From her conception until her death, she was such a positive force.
At the fundraiser we held to raise money for our adoption fees, Gary and I sang, "Here Comes the Sun" (karaoke style) and there were not a lot of dry eyes in the fire hall. I still hear that song and think of my first baby and the joy that she brought us for the short time she was here.
When Miranda was born, she became our rainbow. That was not a name we came up with on our own. Any baby born after a loss is a rainbow. They are the colorful reward at the end of a storm. Since she was adopted and not born to me, I was not sure if she could still be considered a rainbow. I worried for nothing. She was and she is and now, almost four years later, she still loves rainbows and says that "every color of the rainbow" is her favorite color. Even on our worst, angst-ridden, sassy, trying days, she is the best thing that has happened to us.
I have met a lot of women (and some men) who have quite literally walked the same path as Gary and me. These parents all faced the excitement and anticipation of a new life only to learn that their child was not meant to live in this world. Some of us lost our children before they were born, some as they were being born and some shortly after they were born.
Most of the moms that I know personally have been able to welcome a rainbow baby after their loss. We have been very lucky.
One such mom welcomed two rainbows. Her second rainbow, just six months old, has a very rare genetic disorder and is not expected to live to her first birthday.
This beautiful baby is a unicorn. Quite simply, she is too beautiful and too unique for this world. Her parents and living sister have spent the last several months in the hospital with her, tending to her every need. They have put their lives on hold for her and have not thought twice about it. Why would they?
How to I accept what is happening to them? I am physically not close enough to do anything to help (they live in Canada) and we only talk via Facebook. There is one thing, though.
The mom wants pictures of her fellow moms with unicorns. A bunch of us have ordered little stuffed animals that we can take with us and take pictures to pretend that this little baby is getting to experience all that we experience. I am going to take a picture of my unicorn lighting the menorah on Saturday night and I may even bring her to the Chinese buffet. I will then bring my unicorn to Christmas dinner at my in-laws the next day. My unicorn is very well rounded and multi-cultural!
When the time comes and our real-life unicorn is not here on earth anymore, I will send my unicorn to Toronto to live with her new family and offer some solace.
This was not my idea but I love it. If you like it, too, take a picture when and if you can and send it to me. I will make sure it gets where it needs to go.
There is so much we cannot control in this world. We do not have all the time we want. We do not have all the time we need. We can, though, celebrate life and love and friendships and family and of course, rainbows and unicorns. Celebrate away. Celebrate now. Before it's too late.