My Rainbow Baby: A Pregnancy After Loss Story
Today, on my rainbow baby’s first birthday, I’m sharing the story that brought her into this world. After the heartbreak of losing her sister, this pregnancy was a journey through fear, faith, and fierce hope. This is how Samantha came into our lives — and changed everything.
I became pregnant with Samantha about three months after our daughter died in August 2023 — a baby we lovingly named Baby Girl. This is the story of our loss. Although we had hoped for more time to grieve, my maternal-fetal medicine specialist warned that waiting could increase risks due to my age. Our hearts were heavy with grief, but we longed for a healthy baby — so we moved forward.
We found out we were expecting while visiting my mother-in-law for Thanksgiving. I remember my husband and I waiting together for the results of the pregnancy test. When we saw those two pink lines, we were overwhelmed with both joy and disbelief. But we also knew: a long and emotional road lay ahead. It was difficult not to share the news right then and there, but we decided to wait until Christmas and surprise her with a handmade baby Christmas stocking. Her reaction? Pure excitement.
Early Pregnancy After Stillbirth: Fear and Fragile Hope
At 8 weeks, our pregnancy was officially confirmed. Hearing our baby’s heartbeat for the first time was a sacred moment — but we knew what lay ahead: months of anxiety, fear, and constant prayers.
This time, we had more support. I saw both my OB and perinatal specialist regularly, and providers at my OB’s office reassured us that we could come in for as many ultrasounds as needed. Still, the first 20 weeks were incredibly hard. I felt trapped between hope and dread. After the trauma of stillbirth, pregnancy no longer felt safe — it felt like walking a tightrope between grief and grace.
“After stillbirth, pregnancy no longer felt safe — it felt like walking a tightrope between grief and grace.”
I prayed daily and did everything I could to care for my body. I began feeling sick around weeks 4 or 5, and strangely, that helped — it gave me something tangible to focus on. I rested, nourished myself, and let those small tasks carry me through the mental load of fear. In its own way, that routine helped keep the worst-case scenarios at bay.
Gender Reveal and Genetic Testing
We decided to do early genetic testing, which also revealed the baby’s gender. I had a strong feeling it was another girl, though I second-guessed myself after a dream where the baby turned out to be a boy. Instead of doing a gender reveal party, we simply opened the results together, which were posted in my lab results.
Another baby girl! Our hearts were full.
Each time a test came back normal, we exhaled a little. But after what we’d been through, nothing felt certain. We remembered how everything changed so suddenly with Baby Girl. From that point on, we lived from one appointment to the next.
The 20-Week Ultrasound: A Pivotal Milestone
The 20-week anatomy scan and spina bifida screening loomed large in our minds. We braced ourselves as we read the spina bifida results in my lab portal — negative. We could breathe again.
I vividly remember the drive to the specialist’s office for the 20-week ultrasound. I was nearly silent the entire way, my heart pounding. The ultrasound tech this time was warm and personable, which helped ease our nerves. With Baby Girl, the room had been quiet and tense — and for good reason, as we later learned.
I asked many questions. I needed reassurance — about her amniotic fluid, her organs, everything. The technician confidently told us that everything looked good and said the doctor would only call if there were any concerns. She wasn’t expecting that to happen.
But on the way home, my phone rang. It was their office. My stomach dropped.
To my surprise, it was good news — finally good news. The same specialist who had once delivered the most devastating news of our lives was now calling with joy in her voice. Everything looked healthy and normal.
I cried tears of relief.
A High-Risk Pregnancy with Moments of Peace
We had a chart that showed survival rate percentages at different stages of pregnancy. I clung to those numbers. My husband and I often looked them over together, breathing a little easier as the likelihood of survival increased. The weight we carried began to lift — slowly — as we passed the 60% and higher milestones.
Those numbers gave me something concrete to hold onto when everything else felt uncertain. If you’re navigating a high-risk pregnancy, March of Dimes offers helpful information about what to expect and how to stay supported.
When I Finally Felt Her Move
Due to the position of my placenta, I didn’t feel Samantha’s movements as early as some mamas do. That was difficult. I longed for the reassurance of her kicks — something to soothe the ever-present fear. At one point, I was terrified my amniotic fluid was leaking. My mind went to the worst place — What if she dies too? We rushed in for an emergency appointment, consumed by fear. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing another baby… not after everything. Thankfully, all was well.
When I finally began to feel her move, it was nothing short of magical. I documented her very first flutter — a moment I’ll never forget. Later in my pregnancy, I captured videos of her hiccups and more active movements, each one a precious gift. I never had the chance to experience that with Baby Girl. Every movement reminded me she was alive — and helped me feel deeply connected to her.
I thanked God for each and every one.
“Even if this baby didn’t live, I was thankful for every kick. Each one made me feel more connected to her.”
Fatigue, Thyroid Issues, and Emotional Whiplash
Throughout my pregnancy, I was utterly exhausted. Later, I would discover that I had undiagnosed thyroid issues — something I’ve written more about in my postpartum thyroid journey. At the time, though, I was simply doing my best to get through each day — physically depleted and emotionally on edge.
Grief was always present, but everything was moving so quickly that I didn’t have much time or space to process it. We moved forward milestone by milestone, each one layered with both hope and fear.
The Final Weeks of Waiting
Around 35 weeks, the non-stress tests began. Everything looked fine — until a Friday appointment with the specialist revealed that my amniotic fluid was low.
My heart sank. Not this again. With Baby Girl, we had been blindsided during her 20-week scan — told there was no fluid. That moment changed everything. Now, hearing “low fluid” brought all of that trauma flooding back.
We were told to come back on Monday. That weekend felt like a lifetime. I tried to rest, hydrate, and stay grounded — but the fear was intense. Thankfully, by Monday, the fluid levels had improved.
Then, around 37 weeks, it happened again — my fluid was low. This time, the doctor didn’t want to wait. She told us it was safer to induce. The hospital was full, so she requested a bed for me and told us to expect a call the next morning — Saturday.
I didn’t sleep at all that night.
Labor, Delivery, and Meeting My Rainbow Baby
We arrived at the hospital that morning. The first part of the induction was slow — we ate, talked, and waited. Eventually, the contractions started. I held off on the epidural, using a birthing comb to manage the initial pain. Once I transitioned to the labor and delivery unit, I opted for the epidural. It was scary, but I knew I needed strength for what was ahead.
Labor was long. I hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, and was completely drained. I pushed for three hours. It felt like I had run a marathon with no training — it was beyond intense. The epidural worked unevenly, so I could still feel the contractions on one side — but in a way, that helped guide me on when to push.
Finally, the midwife came in. She coached me through those final minutes, encouraging me, telling me I was almost there.
And then — I was.
Samantha was born with her eyes wide open, alert and beautiful. She was ready to meet the world. I looked into her perfect, soulful eyes as they laid her on my chest.
My beautiful rainbow baby was here. Finally.
She was breathing. She was alive.
I was completely exhausted — beyond words — but my heart was full in a way I had never known before.
Leaving the Hospital With My Baby
There was a NICU nurse on standby, but after seeing how healthy Samantha was, she quietly left the room. I couldn’t believe it — this time, I was going to leave the hospital with my baby.
The staff, who knew about our loss, welcomed her into the world with such compassion. They gave us a hand-crocheted rainbow blanket, a rainbow-themed book, and made her footprints in rainbow colors.
It was surreal. It was sacred. It was everything I had prayed for.
Just a couple of days before Samantha’s birth, a rainbow appeared in the sky outside my patio. I took it as a divine sign — that God was with us, and that everything was going to be okay. And He was. He delivered on His promise and gave me the greatest gift of my life.
Samantha is my rainbow baby. She is hope after heartbreak, light after the storm. If you’re walking through pregnancy after loss, you are not alone. Pregnancy After Loss Support offers encouragement, stories, and community for parents who understand.
And I thank God every day for her. My journey through motherhood, grief, and God’s presence is something I continue to reflect on here.
For additional support and healing after baby loss, Share Pregnancy & Infant Loss Support offers gentle, faith-informed resources for grieving families.
If you’ve experienced loss or are walking through pregnancy after heartbreak, you are not alone. I see you. And I’d love to hear your story in the comments.
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