You are not 
  my rainbow

It is not your job 
  to fix my grief 

You are not a placation,
  no mans consolation prize

They were not storms to be weathered
  you are not their prism

You each exist, 
  wholly, uniquely 

I will want 
  all of you 
    forever 

The topic of this poem is the concept of a “rainbow baby”, a term frequently used to describe a pregnancy which occurs subsequent to a miscarriage or stillbirth. Mothers sometimes outright use the term to describe their pregnancy or their child, or may subtly nod to this trauma by putting little rainbow emojis in their pregnancy announcements or captions. I often think that this little nod, this tiny emoji, is a small voice crying out, “Be kind to me now, I suffered before.”

I previously lost two wanted babies via two separate miscarriages. They were twins. The first was lost in December 2023 and then four weeks later, the other twin was lost in January 2024. The process of losing each was excruciating.

I went on to have two more early pregnancy losses, “chemical” pregnancies.

My baby is not responsible for healing the wound left by their older siblings, nor would it be kind or reasonable to ask them to do so.

I lost a set of twins — and I will want them, those two, forever. And I want their younger sibling just as much.

TLDR: please don’t call her a Rainbow Baby