We chose the name Kennedy as soon as we found out we were having a girl. I wanted a strong unisex name and decided to name her after her father, my husband, Kenneth. We named her Sinclair instead, a name we picked on impulse four days before I checked in for her delivery.
“I used to make stops at a town called Sinclair in Wyoming. It was beautiful and tranquil. I felt at peace there. Do you think it’s a good name for a girl?” Kenneth asked. I said yes. My mom gushed with enthusiasm when I asked her opinion and said that it was indeed a unique and beautiful name.
I knew the name was perfect as soon as I had her in my arms for she was the most beautiful girl in the world. She was bright, clear, and a symbol of peace after almost ten years of infertility; four pregnancy losses and four excruciating IVF cycles.
Sinclair brought insurmountable joy into our home and our lives. Every moment with her from birth has been precious and priceless. I find myself staring at her every day in sheer awe and disbelief, my heart pumping fast with warmth, light, and love. I still cannot believe my good fortune.
Even now, two years later, I find myself recording every milestone and random moment with Sinclair because I am reluctant to let the time slip away.
I feel so grateful when she indulges me with her smiles, hugs, kisses, and declarations of love. I cannot begin to describe what this child means to me and my journey as a woman and mother.
After recurrent pregnancy losses, I suffered from posttraumatic stress disorder, which in me, induced severe anxiety of losing another pregnancy. I was being seen biweekly at my OBGYN and maternal-fetal medicine specialists for ultrasounds and additional monitoring, yet I monitored the baby’s heart rate at home with a Doppler I bought online until I began to feel her kicks get stronger at 20 weeks.
I gave myself daily blood thinner shots from the beginning of my pregnancy until she was born to prevent another premature loss. I worked full time as an in-house caseworker at a high-stress clinic and worried a lot about the toll it was taking on my pregnancy. But the pregnancy was easy and uneventful.
My rainbow baby, Sinclair Olanna Agana, was born on a beautiful Saturday afternoon at 36 weeks. I can still feel the tug from when she was pulled through my uterus and lifted from my abdomen. I floated in and out of consciousness; the anesthesia had worn off prematurely, leaving me with a fiery searing pain in my abdomen that shocked my senses. I felt the morphine course through my veins just as I realized the moans were coming from me.
I could hear her crying too. Was she in pain? I wanted to hold her, but I found myself unable to move. I panicked briefly wondering if I would die without holding her in my arms as I blacked out again.
When I regained consciousness, she was cradled in the crook of her father’s arm, swaddled tightly in a hospital blanket. He held my hand as he rocked the baby. I stole a look at my husband’s face in an unguarded moment. Tears rolled down his eyes, the joy on his face indescribable.
He caught my eyes, smiled, and said, “Thank you.”
“Bring her to me,” I said. When he put her in my arms and brushed a kiss on my forehead, no one else existed but the three of us at that moment. I felt triumphant! I felt whole! I felt validated! I could feel the scars peeling away. I was healing. The large hole in my heart began to shrink and heal.