Feeling My Rainbow Baby Kick: The Milestone I Never Knew I Would Grieve
There are moments in pregnancy that everyone talks about—the positive test, the first scan, hearing the heartbeat, finding out the gender, feeling those first little kicks. During my first pregnancy, I looked forward to each of those milestones with excitement. When I felt those tiny flutters for the first time, I smiled, told my husband, and carried on with my day. I didn’t know how extraordinary that moment really was.
I had never experienced pregnancy ending any other way. I had never sat in a scan room waiting for someone to tell me there was no heartbeat. I had never known the silence that follows those words. I had never had to say goodbye.
Then life changed.
Over the next five years, I experienced five miscarriages. Each pregnancy began with hope but became a cycle of waiting, anxiety, and heartbreak—waiting for scan appointments, waiting to know whether the pregnancy was progressing, waiting to find out if my baby had stopped growing, waiting for surgery, waiting for my body to recover while my heart struggled to catch up. Pregnancy stopped feeling safe. My nervous system learned that being pregnant meant preparing for loss.
So when I became pregnant again, people naturally wanted to celebrate. But my body remembered everything. Every scan felt like something to survive. Every cramp made my heart race. Every visit to the toilet came with the fear of seeing blood.
And then, one ordinary day, I felt the tiniest flutter. A little movement that lasted only a second. I stopped everything, placed my hand on my stomach, and waited. Then another. And suddenly I wasn’t just feeling my baby move—I was feeling something I had quietly wondered if I would ever experience again.
I cried. Not because I was frightened. Not because anything was wrong. But because this milestone carried the weight of every pregnancy that came before it.
Grief changes the way you experience joy. It teaches you that nothing is guaranteed. It makes ordinary moments feel sacred. Feeling your baby kick isn’t simply a sign that they’re growing. For someone who has experienced pregnancy loss, it’s reassurance. It’s relief. It’s hope. It’s a conversation between a mother and the baby she’s spent years praying for, one gentle movement at a time.
If you’ve experienced pregnancy after loss, you’ll probably understand that every milestone is celebrated differently. The world sees another week of pregnancy. You see another mountain climbed, another fear survived, another memory rewritten.
If you’re currently waiting for your own first flutter after loss, I hope it comes soon. And when it does, don’t feel silly if you cry. Don’t feel guilty if you still feel anxious. You can hold gratitude and fear in the same heart. You can celebrate while still carrying grief. Both can exist together.
Today, my baby’s little kicks reminded me that healing doesn’t mean forgetting. It means allowing yourself to experience joy while honouring every version of yourself that fought to get here. And for the first time in a very long time, my tears weren’t for goodbye. They were for hello.
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