CW: this post discusses miscarriage.
No one told me that so many pregnancies can end in miscarriage. At least, not until I had my first miscarriage, which happened to also be my first pregnancy.
We had told people we were expecting. Why would such joy be shared with others? And I was just feeling sick, a little more tired when I started bleeding. One inserted ultrasound later, and we learned the baby – no, the blighted ovum – had stopped growing two weeks earlier.
“At this stage,” someone told me, “you will be able to pass it on your own.”
I was taking 15 upper-division English credits at the time. We were only a week or two into the semester and it was the semester when I had the most homework I’d ever had. “That’s good,” someone said. “It’ll keep you busy, keep your mind off things.”
As Enoch and I shared the news with others, we got a lot of checklist I’m sorrys. I had one person said if I’d just gotten to the hospital sooner, I could have saved the baby, and another said, “Yeah. That happens to about a third of first pregnancies.” After those, I was thankful for the quick checklist apologies because then, I could say thank you and we could all pretend everything was fine together.
My next positive pregnancy came eight months later, within the week when I’d been due with the one we’d lost. To get a positive test after a loss is the embodiment of bitter and sweet. To get reassurances appointment after appointment that this baby was not only healthy but thriving is a joy I lack the words to articulate.
March 2001, Enoch and I cried in the delivery room when a very healthy Will was born. I didn’t know then that a baby after a miscarriage was called a rainbow baby. I do know that Will brought light to our world with their charming brown eyes and beautiful auburn hair.
Light. Color. Joy.
Ellie came along in March of 2003, four days before Will turned two. Her first APGAR was a two, but she came out of that with a fierce determination that sticks with her today. While she doesn’t qualify as a rainbow baby, there was A LOT of uncertainty regarding her ability to thrive. And when finally got to hold her, it was back.
Light. Color. Joy.
My next pregnancy was a surprise and was to have Ellie and the new baby 21 months apart. At my twelve-week appt, we couldn’t find the heartbeat, but I was told not to worry, that it was pretty common. A day later, while at Enoch’s grandpa’s 90th birthday party, I started bleeding, and while I recognized the signs of a miscarriage, it became clear pretty quickly that this one was different.
I’m missing chunks of memories from that day. I can remember walking to a restroom and then seeing the sky moving above me. I heard people breathing before I saw the sets of hands carrying me. Several of Enoch’s cousins grabbed my wrists and stared at the watches on theirs, asking me how much blood I’d lost as if I’d been verifying with a set of measuring cups or spoons.
There were four failed attempts to set an IV in the ambulance ride to some hospital. Apparently, there was a guy who regularly set IVs on heroin addicts who finally found a vein to start getting fluids back in. The ER staff quickly abandoned the idea of me being in a hospital gown as well; the slightest movement of my head and I blacked out again.
When I was being wheeled down a hallway, I saw a woman with fair skin, a pretty solid distribution of freckles, and red hair that was darker than Ellie’s. I don’t know what she said to me.
It took me six weeks after this to be able to go up the stairs in our townhome without getting dizzy. So when I had a positive pregnancy test a few weeks later, I was certain we were going to have more of the same.
I went to my first appointment and heard a heartbeat, a surprise that made me weep.
March 2005, Catie came into the world, a full two pounds lighter than her siblings had been. She had big blue eyes, and loved to snuggle. Holding her with Will and Ellie brought me indescribable joy. Embracing each of them now still does.
Light. Color. Joy.
A lot of times, when we think of rainbows, they are in these terms. We consider them a sign of hope after something difficult has happened. But there are times, too, when we get to see a rainbow with radiant colors cast across the heavens in a way that brings joy and delight.
This has been the case, in my life, over the last year.
About this time in 2021, Will told Enoch and me about a desire to start using different pronouns. It was after a breakup, and we were checking in to see how things were going. We could tell something was bothering Will, and I made a joke saying nothing would surprise us except, maybe, if there was an attraction to guys.
Dear reader, there was. There is. Will is nonbinary.
I had a lot of learning to do in regards to this (including how to think before speaking). It became clear to me how much I liked those little boxes and it took my brain a good amount of work to break that organizational system. And thankfully, Will has been very patient with me, from helping me learn about the nonbinary flag to being willing to talk about what this looks like for them.
One of the best examples was when they asked how we decide who is the most feminine among a group of women-identifying people? How do we decide who is the most masculine? I have also been doing a lot of work to understand two-spirit people from indigenous cultures.
But the very VERY best thing about all of this is the light that was missing in their eyes for a little while came back. This year, when they turned 21, I asked how they came to understand these were the pronouns for them. They went through a process of not being sure who they were and had several friends who suggested seeing if the assigned at birth pronouns felt right. There was a disconnect so they started experimenting with others. As they told me, “When I thought of myself in terms of they/them pronouns, it just made me happy.”
Light. Color. Joy.
In September, I got a text from Ellie saying, “So, just wanted to update you real quick - if you’re totally shocked by this well… SURPRISE! I’m definitely at least a little bit gay.”
I don’t like the stereotypes we put around people – that if someone likes to dress a certain way or prefers to participate in certain things, then people around them “just knew it”. When I think about the variations of cishet people I know, there’s no “look” and that’s the same for a lot of people in the LGBTQ community. However, as Ellie has come to understand herself better, she has started celebrating looking totally gay because she feels like, for the first time in her life, she gets to show up on the outside as she has felt on the inside for a while.
Light. Color. Joy.
I would never have the audacity to say the work that Will and Ellie did to come to terms with who they are was a colorful light of joy.
They had to wrestle with the way they may or may not be accepted in various communities who had been quick to love when they presented a particular way but likely wouldn’t continue to view so fondly.
They had to soul search and ponder as ideas they’d heard at the church we had attended suggested their authenticity was a sin, and would likely lead to severances of relationships.
They both knew for quite a while before they told me, and it is one of my deepest honors that they have opted to share their journey to a whole self with their mom who still has a lot of learn.
Above all, I’m soul-deep proud of them and love them with all my heart.