From Dragon Baby To Rainbow Baby— Every Child Is Once In A Lifetime

It was a regular Tuesday afternoon in the office and as our Editor-in-Chief was editing an explainer article about dragon babies, she stood up when she realized why many couples covet the Chinese Zodiac sign for their children. “That’s why it’s a big deal to have a dragon baby! Because you only get the chance every 12 years!”

I’m not superstitious, and I don’t put much weight on zodiacs, but wow, as the thought sunk in that the baby inside me would be a dragon baby, my momma heart beamed with joy. And yes I admit, a little bit of pride.

I think I was around 6 weeks pregnant then. It was the peak of my morning sickness— call it whole-day sickness to be more appropriate.

Pregnant again

I was so ecstatic to be pregnant again after my two-year-old daughter battled Kawasaki disease last year. My husband and I thought, Finally after a life-threatening chapter, maybe it’s God’s timing to add another member to our family.

I enjoyed the perks of being pregnant. The MRT rides that I used to dread, (the battle is real, guys), turned into a pleasant experience because I got to ride comfortably inside the Priority Carriage of the train where everyone was kind. Senior citizens would give up their seats for mommies with huge bumps and vice versa.

It was all so different the first time. The whole world was shut down when I was last pregnant, it was the height of the pandemic when pregnant women were not allowed to dine out due to covid hazards. This is why being pregnant again felt like a familiar experience but in an all-new setting.

Losing my baby

I was pretty fit during my first pregnancy, all was normal, no complications. That’s why I thought this one would also be a breeze.

But before this, my pregnancy test showed two faint lines last October then had my period in the first week of November. I wasn't able to have my HCG levels checked at that time to see how pregnant I was— if it was just a false positive, chemical pregnancy, or I miscarried— it was all a blur. But one thing was for sure, it broke my heart.

I wake up almost every night, around the same time as when it happened. For the first two nights, I sobbed in the dark. 

At that time, we felt like we weren't planning on having another baby. But if the Lord were to give it, we would be very grateful! The miscarriage revealed the unspoken longing of our hearts: we wanted a second child.

That’s why when we found out I was pregnant during the New Year, we held back our celebration until the day we saw our baby’s heartbeat on the ultrasound monitor.

At seven weeks, there was a flickering heartbeat that appeared on the screen monitor—I felt joy and relief at the sight of it. My OB asked me to take a video of it so that I could show it to my husband who wasn’t with me at that time. Little did I know that it would be more for me. That it would serve as a precious keepsake, the first and only time I’d see it.

Fast forward to 9 weeks of pregnancy when I was going about my normal day when I saw spots of blood on my underwear. At first, I wasn’t alarmed. But the bleeding continued throughout the night until I fell asleep.

At 3 AM, I was awakened by my firstborn whose pee spilled over from her diaper and we had to change her nappy. Half-awake, I walked to the bathroom to find that the menstrual pad I was wearing was almost filled with blood. It didn’t feel right.

I felt abdominal cramps similar to that of dysmenorrhea, and as the moments passed, it intensified so I had to sit on the toilet because I couldn’t tell what the pain was. Little did I know I was already in labor.

Gushes of blood came out and after a long stretch of silence, I heard a loud plop—a big chunk of blood came out.

When I had my first faint line, I had a conversation with a fellow momma. We talked about pregnancy loss and she shared about how she lost her angel. She told me it came out as a big chunk of blood. I remembered that and thought—could this be my baby too?

I paused for a while, let out a deep breath, and mustered up enough courage to pick it up from the bowl to get a closer look.

When I’m pregnant, I watch pregnancy week-on-week videos on YouTube, and at week 9, the video described that a baby is the size of a grape.

And that was exactly what I saw: a chunk of dark red blood and a fleshy sac—that was the size of a grape.

After it came out, the cramps gradually weakened. I messaged my OB to confirm if it was my tiny baby’s body.

The minutes of waiting for her reply felt like hours. I wished my gut feeling was wrong. Sana hindi ito yun. But she confirmed and I was at a loss.

I was shocked at how all of a sudden, my baby was gone.

I will always grieve the sweet possibility of who she would have become. I grieve the loss of who I would have become as a mother. —Regan Parker, lawyer, author, mom

I wake up almost every night, around the same time as when it happened. For the first two nights, I sobbed in the dark. Some nights, I try to brush it off. The other night I decided to just brush my teeth to prevent my mind from going down that memory again.

On the outside, I looked the same. Normal. But emotionally, the profound pain and grief have changed my life forever.

In search of answers and trying to make sense of what happened, I turned to testimonials and talks by strong women who bravely spoke about their stories of pregnancy loss.

I stumbled upon the TED Talk by Regan Parker, a lawyer, author, mom, and TEDxPortland speaker.

She talked about how she healed from grief after a miscarriage more than a decade ago. And she was able to put in words the heaviness in my heart:

“I will always grieve the sweet possibility of who she would have become. I grieve the loss of who I would have become as a mother,” Regan said.

After a week of medication, I saw my doctor and had an ultrasound. All products of conception have passed and a D&C was no longer necessary. I'm now processing my papers for maternity leave—without a baby.

Everything has slowed down, and we take it one step at a time. Right now, I ask God for strength, just enough for each next step, just enough hope, just enough light for the step I'm on.

I’m still trying to process what happened. Was it because I had COVID when I conceived? I didn’t know I was pregnant already.

The Why, I surrender it to the Ultimate Creator. He has delivered my first baby from a rare and fatal disease. I find comfort in who He is and that He will carry me through every chapter of our parenting journey.

I take this in with humor to lighten up my situation. Lord, 'di mo naman sinabi. 'Di pala dragon baby, rainbow baby pala!

I still have my tulala moments, when I suddenly burst into tears when a song triggers the wound. Like the song, Why Do We Love by Gwyn Dorado. I feel a tug in my heart whenever I see posts about pregnancy and newborns on my Instagram feed. (Thanks to Instagram’s algorithm and excited me who followed baby accounts.)

I was every bit excited about this pregnancy. Every baby is a gift, and pregnancy, incomparable and wonderful. That’s why it hurts so much to see it end. It left me with so much more questions than answers.

Though I know some moms may prefer not to talk about their pain, I felt compelled to share my story in hopes of helping fellow mothers who are struggling to understand their own experiences of loss and grief.

RELATED: 'Gawa Nalang Kayo Ulit,' And Other Things You Should Never Say To Someone After A Miscarriage

I resonate with Regan’s story and how talking about it helped her heal:

“I wanted somebody to ask me about her, to ask about what happened in the dark that night. I wanted someone to tell me that it’s not my fault, and I hadn’t done anything wrong by loving her, even in the earliest days of my pregnancy.

Talking about the loss of a baby is scary. It is painful. But we owe it to one another to acknowledge this loss. We can’t change the pain of the experience, but we can change the isolation and the fear," she said,

The hurt deepened my understanding of a mother’s love for her child. It is a dark place in the journey of a parent. I move forward but do not dismiss what happened.

To fellow moms who lost an unborn child, whether it be 10 weeks or 3 months, the time we carried them doesn't reflect how much we love them. Our love for them remains strong in our hearts, even after they're gone.

I am fortunate enough to have the support and compassion of my family. I am thankful for my parents and siblings who supported me through each step, my husband who held my hand all the way through, and my firstborn—I hold her tighter every night with the feeling na, Grabe. Salamat, Lord. Andito ka, Addie.

Maybe it’s not yet time. Maybe, I need to spend more time with my firstborn. Maybe we need to be in better health to prepare for our baby’s arrival.

For now, I will grieve and rest. Until we gather enough emotional strength to try again. To either face another heartbreak or finally see a heartbeat.

To my rainbow baby,
You may still be a dragon baby or maybe not,
Whatever year you will come into our lives,
Know that Mama waited for you and prayed for you and I love you even more.

Any baby, dragon, snake, etc. I will love you and hold you
Because you are my baby.

Cherrie Ongteco-Julian is Smart Parenting's Associate Video Director. She and her husband Gelo are parents to Addie, their firstborn daughter.