Kristi Bothur is one of our contributing authors to Sunshine After the Storm. Kristi had three miscarriages between her first and fifth children. She began a local grief support group in Columbia, SC that is called Naomi’s Circle. Originally designed to be a group for those with other small children or trying to conceive or are pregnant after loss, Naomi’s Circle is open to anyone who would like to commune with other grieving parents.
Recently, she wrote this piece on her blog, This Side of Heaven, and is sharing it with us today.
11/04/2013 by Kristi Bothur
There were no photographs this time, no funeral, no evidence that she’d ever lived except for our three ultrasound pictures and our broken hearts.
But the thing about rainbows is…they don’t have to stick around long to make an impact on your heart. I remember on our honeymoon during a few days in Yellowstone National Park, the weather was misty and we were on the lookout for rainbows. It didn’t matter if they we’re brilliant or faint or if they lasted a few seconds or several minutes. Something about seeing rainbows filled us with joy and hope, as we remembered God’s promise of future faithfulness, to never again overwhelm the world with a flood.The same was true of our little rainbow. We named her Kyria Hope, assuming she was a girl, like our first two. “Kyria” from 2 John, when the apostle refers to the “chosen lady”. We believed with all or hearts that God chose to give Kyria to us, that her brief life had a purpose, and that we will someday get to speak with her face to face (2 John 1:12). Her middle name, Hope, was because God used her life to fill me with hope – not in another pregnancy, but in the reminder of the lessons I had learned when we lost Naomi, that even when we despair of life itself, we can have hope in Jesus (2 Corinthians 1:8-11).
Kyria often gets overlooked in our story. Naomi was our first loss, our most traumatic medically-speaking, the one we got to hold and take pictures of, and the one we named our Naomi’s Circle ministry for. I some ways, my missing of her was more intense, and for a while I felt guilty about that. Losing Kyria, though, taught me an important lesson – it’s okay to grieve different losses differently. It doesn’t mean you love one baby more and another less. It doesn’t make you a bad mother.
I knew Naomi longer and losing her changed my life so drastically, ushering me into the pregnancy loss community. Kyria’s passing was more of a “normal” miscarriage, but God has used her life to show me what so many other women go through, and that no matter how far along a loss occurs, it’s still your child.So today, I am thinking fondly of our little girl who, if she had lived, would have been three on our anniversary this past June – our third child, our inspiration for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Sunday, our little rainbow. I can’t wait to meet her in Heaven!