Treasuring all our children during a week of milestones

This week has been quite a significant week. We’ve celebrated the second birthday of our beautiful firstborn rainbow baby, the wonderful result of our second pregnancy. Just the day before we got to see the tiny human we hope will become our second-born rainbow baby at the 20-week scan of our fourth pregnancy. And, as we celebrated those two wonderful milestones, we couldn’t fail to remember that, had things been different, this week would also have seen the due date of our beloved Pip.

There’s something slightly surreal about watching one tiny baby, half way through the process of preparing for life outside the womb, wriggling around inside you on the same week his or her older brother or sister would have been due to be born. There’s no manual to walk you through how you’re supposed to feel or react in those circumstances. There’s no doubt that we’re excited and overjoyed to see the baby now in my womb growing well and looking healthy (if not being a bit of a troublemaker for the sonographer with his or her wriggling gymnastics). At the same time, we know that this baby would not exist if his or her older sibling had not left us so soon. What are parents meant to feel in those circumstances? Does being happy about the child you now carry tarnish the memory of the one you lost? Does celebrating this child’s life suggest you’re glad that your previous baby made way for them? For anyone who finds themselves in that position and isn’t sure, let me be very clear that the answer to those last two questions is a resounding no. But that doesn’t mean it’s an easy path to navigate.

One of the most helpful things I’ve ever come across to assist with the dilemma often experienced by parents who have both lost babies and have living children is what I like to call the and-not-but approach. It’s something shared by a bereaved father on #BabyLossHour over on Twitter and I think it can be really helpful in many of the situations bereaved families face, not least when it comes to perceptions that having a living child may reduce the grief of losing a child, or questions over hierarchies of grief. Put simply, each emotion, experience and state of being in respect of any of our children, alive or not, exists in its own right and doesn’t need to be qualified by the existence of any other. So, in our case this week, we are glad to see our amazing fourth baby growing well AND we will always love our darling third baby who we lost.

Notwithstanding the and-not-but approach, it can be tricky, in situations where we know that one child wouldn’t exist had it not been for the loss of another, to know how to feel. Questions can creep into our minds. Might we end up resenting the child we have because of what might have been? Do we risk viewing the child we have as a replacement for the one who went before? These are real dilemmas that parents in this situation can struggle with.

For us, our faith is a big help in tackling any challenges our situation may bring. We have no doubt that each of our four beautiful babies exists and will always exist – at this point one in our arms, one in my womb and two in God’s arms. We also have no doubt that we will one day get to see the children we never got to hold on Earth – our darling Lentil and Pip – when the time comes for us to join them.

We can’t pretend to understand why God chose to take them home to Heaven before they had ever drawn breath on Earth. Nor, as I write this during World Childless Week, can we pretend to understand why so many people never get the opportunity to become parents. Despite this, we are in no doubt that our babies’ lives, and our losses, were and are part of His perfect plan for His creation. And while we know that many people will struggle with the suggestion that there could be anything perfect about something so seemingly cruel as the loss or the lack of a child, we trust that, while it is so beyond the limits of human understanding, that is exactly what it is.

Very soon after losing Pip I came to the firm belief that God’s perfect plan involved us having not one but two beautiful rainbow babies – babies each born after the loss of a sibling. I can’t explain why because I don’t know either why I came to hold that belief or why that might be His plan. As we move through our fourth pregnancy, all I can do is hope and pray that I am right in that belief and that the little one growing in my womb will, before long, be a healthy, happy full-term baby snuggled in my arms.

I pray daily for this baby to come to birth as a happy, healthy, earthly child, and come the day that happens (assuming God doesn’t have any additional surprises to His plan) I will forever be a mum of four much-loved babies – the two I can hold in my arms and the two who, despite their earthly absence, have left tiny footprints on my heart until we meet again.

1 Thessalonians chapter 5 verses 16-18 tell us to, “Rejoice always, pray continually, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” We have no doubt that God’s will will be done in our lives, whether we know beforehand what that will look like or not. And we have no doubt that God’s plan is perfect and, by definition, far greater than any plan we could set out for ourselves. As we navigate the path He has set out for us, we pray that we will honour and treasure each milestone, happy or sad, and likewise honour and treasure each of our precious children.

Sarah Moore is the author of For the Love of Lentil, A journey of longing, loss and abundant grace, which tells the story of her experience of pregnancy and miscarriage. Copies of the book are available here.