Living with Jennifer Lawrence

[64:] Rainbow Baby

Josh

I heard her sniffling.

I had fallen asleep with an arm draped across her stomach, I remember that much. She was fine.

And now she was crying.

I opened my eyes slowly, adjusting to the light streaming from the blinds, and let out a yawn.

I felt her delicate fingers stroking my hair, and heard more sniffles.

“Jen?” I reached for her hand. “What's wrong?”

The moment I looked up, she was wiping her tears away.

She let out a shaky breath. “It's just that--”

I sat up and looked her in the eyes, never letting go of her hand. “How come you're upset?”

“I just--” She stammered her words. “I had a bad dream, about something that doesn't even matter. You're the one that I love, and. . .”

I took both of her hands and held them.

Another tear rolled down her cheek. “I started thinking about something. About the baby we lost.”

My throat tightened. That was a dark time for all of us. Jen has done the best she could to stay strong, and I did too, but I couldn't even begin to imagine what that must of felt like for her. For the longest time, she said it was her fault, that if she'd done things differently, there would've been a better outcome.

“I-I had a bad dream, a stupid dream, and then I realized that I don't want to forget the baby. I can't. I just can't do it.”

I lowered my voice. “I know, I won't forget either.”

“I'm afraid I'll forget. And I just can't. I want to remember him or her forever.”

Although I wasn't sure what she'd think of this idea, I told her, “You could get a tattoo or something.”

She kissed me. “Josh, you're a genius.”

It wouldn't be her first time getting a tattoo. A long time ago, she'd gotten the chemical formula for water tattooed on her hand, to remind her to “always drink water,” except that the tattoo artist messed up, and placed the number two above H and O, instead of below. I remember laughing a lot by her choice, but still supporting it.

* * *

Jen

My husband is brilliant. Why hadn't I thought of that? A tattoo is a permanent way of remembering the baby we lost.

I curled up on the couch with my tablet in hand, and a cup of hot tea on the side.

I was eager to find inspiration online. I hoped to find something that I could treasure forever.

The kids were at school, and Ryan was taking a nap, therefore the house was rather quiet.

Josh strolled to the kitchen with no pants on. One of the rare occasions he could do so.

“Anything yet?” he called out from the kitchen.

I scrolled through countless websites, and nothing that caught my attention. Don't get me wrong, they were beautiful, but they weren't for me.

“I haven't found anything that stood out,” I answered. “But Ryan is a rainbow baby.” Shortly after, I explained what that meant.

“It says that a rainbow baby is a baby born shortly after the loss of a previous baby due to miscarriage, stillbirth, or death in infancy. This term is given to these special rainbow babies because a rainbow typically follows a storm, giving us hope of what’s to come.” I soon became teary eyed. “I love that.”

“Me too,” he said as he brewed some coffee.

I came across a mommy blog, and whoever the woman was, she went through three miscarriages before her daughter came along. She describes her experiences with trauma and loss and devastation. As I read through, I saw a picture of a tattoo she had.

“Josh, this is it.” I showed him the picture and he loved it.

I cupped his face in my hands and planted several kisses all over. “This is happening!”

* * *

After breakfast and a brief makeout session, we got dressed and went to find a good tattoo parlor.

I sat in the backseat next to Ryan, so I could be close to him and take care of him when needed.

We drove past boutiques and thrift shops and mini-marts and gas stations and convenience stores.

I live for moments like these. I felt so at peace. Josh in the front seat, driving and getting lost in it. Maddie and Jason are safe at school, learning. Ryan begins to wake up from his slumber and I prepare to nurse him. The sky is bright. The traffic is light. The sun is blinding me.

Josh glanced at me through the rear-view mirror with a smile. “Doing okay back there?”

I shift comfortably in my seat with Ryan in my arms.  “Yes, yes. I'm happy.”

The road seemed to stretch on forever. Miles and miles we drove. Ryan burped and didn't spit up on my shoulder this time, which was nice because I hadn't packed an extra shirt in the diaper bag. My last one had gotten dirty and I didn't have the chance to replace it.

“Well, I hope you're happier because I found the place.” Josh parks the car. “This place had good reviews online.”

The reviews were important to me, considering that this tattoo is permanent and I'll wear it proudly for the rest of my life.

* * *

After my skin is cleaned, the tattoo artist gets to work. I asked for the design to be small and I wanted it on my left wrist, so I'll be able to look at it everyday.

Josh sat nearby with the baby in the carrier.

The needle doesn't go in that deep, and to ignore the pain, I talk to Josh about anything, everything.

And once it's complete, I suddenly become emotional.

“What do you think?” The tattoo artist asked. She's pretty with her sleeves and neon blue hair.

My voice cracks but the meaning is all the same: “It's beautiful.”

“If you don't mind me asking, what's the meaning behind it?”

The tattoo is a heart within a heart, and I tell her: “I had a miscarriage, and this was my way of remembering him or her.”

As if I were speaking to my unborn baby, this is for them: I carry your heart in mine, I will never be without it.