It is truly hard to believe that today marks one year since I started my blogging journey. I can’t believe it has been that long since my first post, Isabelle’s Rainbows. I regularly get texts from friends with pictures of beautiful rainbows that they spotted during their day-to-day lives. It always puts a smile on my face and is a beautiful reminder that my daughter is praying for her family from heaven.
Now, one year later, there are only a few days left until my scheduled C-section on October 6. Admittedly, I am nervous about being in an operating room again. My last visit to one was an emergency situation that resulted with me under general anesthesia within minutes. I awoke later to what became the worst day of my life. To say that I am a bit anxious about taking another trip to the operating room is an understatement.
I see this as another major obstacle on the grieving journey. Several of the obstacles that I have faced this past year include the holidays and Isabelle’s birthday. I thought her birthday would be the hardest, but knowing that I am going back to an operating room has proved to be even more stressful than I imagined.
We have talked through all the details of October 6 with our doctor and exhausted an extensive list of questions. We have been to the hospital several times since July 2014, and have even done a tour of the new postpartum wing. The paperwork is done, and I have a folder with detailed instructions regarding the surgery. We are as prepared as possible. Yet, somehow I feel like there is nothing I can do to really prepare for the anxiety that comes with delivering Mark in the same room as Isabelle.
As we count down the final days to Mark’s arrival, it seems appropriate that I would reach the one-year mark of my blog. It has detailed my journey of being the mother of a tiny saint in heaven and with pregnancy after loss. I am looking forward to, God willing, sharing my journey of raising our, what the blogging world has appropriately called, “rainbow baby” (baby born after the loss of another baby). The symbolism is particularly significant to our family since rainbows always make us think of the beautiful ones that Isabelle gave us in the days following her funeral. Rainbows symbolize hope, something Isabelle clearly wants us to have as we look towards a future with Mark. It almost seems like she knew that we would have a rainbow baby, and wanted us to know she was happy about that.
Perhaps that is what I will choose to think about in the hours before my surgery – Isabelle’s rainbows. Rainbows are a reminder of the fact that, in a way, she is always with her family, and is praying for us.