Phoenix Baby

Legend has it that the Phoenix rises from the ashes of its predecessor.

You know, people talk a lot about miscarriages and stillbirth – both incredibly painful and personal journeys of unimaginable grief and sorrow. It has become an accepted part of life as much as death can be in its most tragic of circumstances. We discuss it, we talk about it and we embrace it.

We even have a name for subsequent children: “Rainbow Babies”.

It’s so poignantly beautiful that we widely acknowledge the sadness and hope that is wrapped up within this new human we create after having endured such sadness.

Here’s something we don’t discuss and don’t acknowledge, though: the same sadness and hope that comes with having a baby after a termination. Is it because an illusion of choice is implied in the process? Is it because women who have had a termination don’t deserve sympathy? Is it because we feel that someone who has done something which we perceive as wrong does not deserve to have the memory of that trauma acknowledged?

I searched for the eqivalent term of “Rainbow Baby” for those who have had a termination but, surprise, surprise, I couldn’t find one. And when you look up the definition for “Rainbow Baby”, termination is not mentioned at all.

So, at the 18 week mark of my pregnancy with my very much loved – albeit massively surprising – baby girl, I have created my own term: Phoenix Baby.

Because my last pregnancy deserves to be acknowledged and recognised. My grief over that pregnancy deserves to be honoured and this baby deserves to know what her mother went through to get her precious little life into this wonderful world.

And perhaps other women who have had or are having their own Phoenix Baby can find their own strength in recognising and honouring what they’ve been through.

xxx

 

#phoenixbaby #termination #abortion #nojudgement #griefbecomesjoy #fromtheashes

2 Replies to “Phoenix Baby”

  1. I absolutely LOVE this! I now have 4 Phoenix babies. What a blessing! The self torture that I’ve gone through all of these years and the inability to speak or to mourn was killing me. A Phoenix, rising out of the ashes. Thank you.

    Liked by 1 person

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