This post is part one to about our rainbow baby high risk pregnancy (4th pregnancy)- read part 2 here. Read part one here. Read about my 3rd pregnancy that ended in miscarriage and my second pregnancy that was a Down syndrome diagnosis. 

It was right after Thanksgiving when my brother-in-law and sister-in-law called to announce they were pregnant. We were ecstatic for them. There’s nothing more exciting than a first baby. And that’s when I knew—I was pregnant, too.

I’ve never tested that early, but there they were, two pink lines. And right on time.

One of the hardest things about my miscarriage was the timing. We were hoping to have our third child only two grades apart from our son Anderson, who has Down syndrome. That way Anderson would always have a sibling in high school and possibly middle school, as well.

That was the plan; that was the dream. And it was crushed when we saw a baby with no heartbeat at our first ultrasound.

After waiting the time our doctor recommended to start trying again, we had only one chance to keep that dream alive. And for some reason, God showed us grace and said ‘yes.’

It appears we have a rainbow baby, another boy, who is expected to arrive in early August. 

After two ultrasounds and getting the call that no genetic anomalies were found on the latest genetic screen, I let myself breathe. I let my guard down. We told our close friends and even broke the news to our children that they were getting a baby brother.

I was thankful for God’s mercy, thankful for an uneventful pregnancy; my insides practically burst with gratitude.

I was going to write about it and I decided to wait for our 14-week checkup. No heartbeat on the Doppler. They took me back to the ultrasound room; I immediately saw the heartbeat and breathed a sigh of relief. But I noticed the tech quickly put up her equipment. They sent me back to a room and I paced because I knew something was off.

I had been here before.

They once again took me back to the ultrasound room and I noticed the baby’s belly looked like it had big ball inside. The doctor said the ball was likely a fluid filled cyst and could indicate a number of issues. He told me to come back in two weeks.

I cried, I pleaded.

Before any of this happened I had never prayed for one of my children as much as I have prayed over this new son. I prayed he would be gentle, yet strong, a defender of his brother, a friend to his sister and a man of integrity.

And here I am now, praying he survives.

It was hard losing a baby at nine weeks. The thought of losing a baby in my second or third trimester seems unbearable.

I don’t know what the future holds. I know that he has fluid in his abdomen and that I’m now at a higher chance of miscarriage. I know that it may go away, or it may require surgery or surgeries.

I thought this post would be about the sun somehow shining brighter after the storm. But if this storm turns into a catastrophic event, I don’t know if I will ever see the sunshine the same way. How many times can a person break, before the pieces are so chiseled down that they simply won’t hold together again?

I want to offer you hope in tomorrow, the promise of a rainbow, but for the fourth time in two years, I’m clinging to the side of a lifeboat; unsure if I can once again survive the rough seas.

*When I wrote this, we were 14 weeks along. At the time of this posting, I am 20 weeks. We have updated information. We are in a better (not perfect) more hopeful place. The point of writing this article is not to keep you in suspense, but to document this journey for others and myself.