This is the final post in my series on Redeeming Birth: Bringing Home a Live Baby. Thank you for visiting again to read the conclusion of my story of redeeming birth after loss. If you’ve missed the previous posts:
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Now that Annalise had safely arrived, the next adventure would be bringing her home.
Since she was born during RSV and flu season, the children were not able to come up to the hospital to visit and meet her. Instead they got to see her through FaceTime. Wednesday night they attended our usual family bereavement meeting across the street from the hospital. Vince brought them over to the lobby and I put Annalise into the nursery so that I could go down and give them all hugs and kisses and assure them that both Annalise and I were safe and coming home soon.
Two nights in the hospital to recover may seem like nothing, but to my children who watched their baby sister go by ambulance to the hospital and not see her again until the day she would be removed from life support, it was a major event.
They wouldn’t feel peace until she was safe at home.
As much as I couldn’t wait to get home to my children (and my own bed and bathroom), I did enjoy the chance to get to focus solely on myself and my new baby. I think that’s one of the differences between being a first time mom and a 7th time mom, it was actually quieter and more relaxing in the hospital. To be honest, I needed that time (although it was short) to get my heart prepared to return home.
I’m forever thankful for the incredible Child Life Specialists that worked with our family during the early stages of our grief. They gave the children a safe place to be among peers that had experienced sibling loss and could relate to them in ways Vince and I couldn’t. What I didn’t know until I got home on Thursday, was that on Wednesday night the Child Life Specialists had worked with my children to prepare to welcome their sweet sister home. Each of them recorded a special read-along book for her and they crafted a banner to hang in our room. 
Thursday morning they began the discharge process and Vince prepped the older children to make the trip to Baltimore to come and bring us home.
I dressed Annalise in a hand-knitted outfit that I made with a link to the big sister she’s never met. With the leftover yarn from the only garment I made that Miranda wore, I knitted a vest for Annalise.
Stepping out of the hospital with my live baby was another healing step from the Thursday, 504 days prior… when I left the hospital with nothing but a box of ephemera and empty arms.
Settled into the van and on the road home, my heart could practically burst.
We arrived home and I fought back tears as we walked through the front door. Home at last, my living children and my husband and I, all under one roof.
The older children were relieved to have us home. Especially Nate, who was so ready to be a big brother.
From that first day at home I’ve often caught them just looking at her. I can’t help getting caught up in the wonder either.
Annalise is the rainbow that we never knew we always needed.
Annalise is now two years old and I’ve finally stopped waiting for something catastrophic to happen. I still know that no tomorrow is promised, but I’m learning to revel in the NOW and allow it to be filled with joy. We have reminders of Miranda all around and I look forward to Annalise getting a little older and sharing with her about her big sister, who’s in Heaven.
Parenting living children and a rainbow baby while your heart aches for your lost child is difficult, even on the best days. It’s a delicate dance. (Hop over to read Amy of Raising Arrows look at processing through the grief with her daughter, and how even further in the grief journey, there are unexpected triggers.)
You can do it, and I’ll be honest with you and tell you it’s messy. Give yourself grace as you put one foot in front of the other.
Thank you for reading each part of this small series. Are you or a friend making a way through a pregnancy after loss?
What resources are you finding most helpful?
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