When I finally got pregnant after nearly a year of trying for my second child, I was over the moon.
I knew it was early, but as soon as I saw that tiny pink plus sign I got to work making plans. And by "plans," I mean envisioning a nursery motif, creating a baby registry and making a list of all the things I wanted to buy for this new little bundle. My best friend got constant texts with links of the cutest cradles, hats and shoes that I was just itching to purchase. A particular pair of baby moccasins caught my attention and I just had to have them.
Sadly, before I could hit "checkout" on my order, I lost that sweet little nugget that I was so busy planning for.
After the roller-coaster of trying to get pregnant for such a long time, this miscarriage felt like an end to my dream of having another baby. It was devastating. I quickly emptied my online cart, deleted my baby registry and threw away my to-do lists, feeling silly for getting so ahead of myself.
It was just what I needed and probably the only thing that really helped me emerge from my feelings of despair.
Not long after, a package arrived on my doorstep. Having no clue what it could be, I ripped into it only to find that tiny pair of moccasins I had my eye on, the one I was ready to purchase just a few weeks ago. Only one person in the world knew of my plans for these shoes. And, there it was, a note from my best friend that said, "As your heart heals, these are something to always remember that sweet baby and a promise of a baby to come."
It was just what I needed, and probably the only thing that really helped me emerge from my feelings of despair and come to a place of hope for the future. The moccasins were something tangible that I could hold and see and remember. In a time of sadness and disappointment, just the sight of them comforted me.
A mere five weeks later, we found out we were expecting again. All throughout the first weeks of my pregnancy, I was worried. Every twinge or feeling made me think of the baby I lost and scared it might happen again. But I clung to those moccasins and what they represented. Cautiously hopeful, I began to allow myself to be excited about this pregnancy.
We had a sweet, healthy baby girl, and every time she wore those soft leather moccasins, they held so much meaning. As I put them on her tiny feet, I remembered the baby before her and the hope that can follow disappointment.
My baby has long since outgrown those shoes. They sat on a shelf in her room where I could always see them—up until today. Today, I wrapped them up and sent them to another mama who is newly pregnant with her rainbow baby and a note with the history of the traveling moccasins, wishing that she finds comfort and hope, like I did, in a simple pair of shoes.
