“How are you feeling?”
“No, how are you really feeling?”
I feel there’s watchful eyes all over me. I actually feel reassured by it. I can understand why. I am a woman that insisted that they get my baby out because I couldn’t live with the solitude in the fear of his death any longer. I screamed that he’d died in labour.
But now BD is here, I slowly feel some of the weight of fear melt away. I’m not saying I’m not suffering from some outstanding crazily hormonal moments. I can hear Wolf shouting an AMEN to that. And the recovery from a fast, painful labour and an over production of milk has left me achey and exhausted and thoroughly fed up at times. But. But.
From May last year the testing began to see if I could be the kidney donor to save my son’s life. We knew the potential was there. I held that responsibility, and ultimately I have carried the responsibility that we decided in light of RD’s health to halt the process. I have held on, and held on.
Eight months ago, as one life ended and another was discovered, I have continued to hold on. My body responsible again for keeping another life alive, bearing it to fruition. I could barely scrape at the fear, I just continued to hold on. Another hour, another day, another week.
We have gone from a family of four.
To a family of three.
To a family of three with a dog.
And now again, we are a family of four. With a dog.
Contracted and expanded. But forever changed.
Very kind people tell me I look really well. It took BD and I two hours to get round Marks and Spencer’s the other Tuesday, a fascination with this tiny little soul strapped to my chest. The fact he was five days old. The disbelief I was wearing lipstick. But what I couldn’t say was this: yes I feel okay. Good in fact. Because my labour started the release, and I am still releasing.
Every drop of breastmilk that he takes, I feel the fear let down simultaneously.
I’ve been congratulated on my weight loss. And psychologically, having my own body feel like my own again so soon is healing. Literally a weight lifted. But it is borne from a pregnancy full of so much anxiety I lost weight. Fear has made me thin. So now, as my appetite returns, I enjoy the feeling of pinking up and plumping. A little regained control.
As I contract, I expand with feelings and emotions. When you’re holding on, everything gets held back. I worked. I studied, and completed a diploma. But I knew I was only poking at the heartache for RD. Now, tears are released too. Held back for too long, brushed away too quickly before.
Babies born after loss are referred to as Rainbow Babies. They appear after a storm. And sometimes I am happy to think of BD that way, but it’s more complex than that. RD wasn’t a storm. He was full of colour and life. He IS the orange in the rainbow if you ask DD. BD is a rainbow baby because he is returning some of that colour to us after the grey static of holding on.