Rainbows

I don't know if this is the normal route a person takes when coping with baby loss, but for weeks I have been bouncing back and forth between a surge of hopefulness and melancholy.  Like a manic faith positioned against despair.  But a few weeks ago I crashed and I've been stuck crying inside my own bubble.  Crying on my mat in relaxation yoga.  Crying on the bus.  In the doctor's waiting room. To the staff at the hospital.  Crying from looking at my husband.  At his hands and feet.  I've been full of salt and snot.  And when I'm not crying, all I think about is a rainbow baby.    

When I was pregnant with Nahuatl, my head was full of doom.  I was cautious even before her diagnosis. It's as if I was waiting for misfortune and I couldn't bring myself to experience anything good in case it was taken from me.  But I think my approach limited the moments I had with her (the moments that were rightfully ours).  I regret how negative I was and I'm trying not to be like that anymore.  So I've been knitting baby clothes because I am hoping for a rainbow.  It comforts me.

I still have many fears and personal questions.  Questions of right and wrong that won't ever get answered (i.e. is it right to try again).  But I am tired of over analyzing and trying to control cosmos. Anything can happen, but I don't want to see it as always getting the brunt end.  Anything can happen and that's just the way it is.