What is it that Woody Allen said? "If you want to make God laugh, tell him about your plans"? As Mr Allen rather wittily implies: God has both a good sense of humor, and plans for us that are far greater than our own... or at least this is what I have found to be the case in my own life.

Sometime in my teens or early 20s I decided I never wanted to have kids. That story became my mantra: "I'm NEVER having kids!", I would tell anyone who would ask (and yeh people here in the south ask women waaaaayyyy too much about their plans for motherhood). So my dreams as a young southern woman instead included big lights, a stage surrounded by adoring fans, and expensive luggage for traveling the world. My plans were to be an actress. (Side note: my high school graduating class dubbed me as "most likely to be a regular on SNL".) You've heard this story before I'm sure, and perhaps not so unlike many youngsters with a similar dream, life has not played out anywhere near how I'd expected. Sure, I did study theater for a time, and I did even land a few small acting roles here & there. But most of my 20s and 30s were instead spent in sales. I know, right?? Not nearly as glamorous, though I admit: I've walked through some pretty incredible doors in these last several years as a working professional. Still a part of me has always wondered "what if...?" 

People closest to me (especially my dad) have asked me for years to reconsider my position on motherhood, because I really am so good with kids. To be honest, I simply never thought "motherhood" was for me. So after a couple of decades of not *expecting* to ever be a mother, I came to believe that it just wasn't ever going to happen for me. And then - very unexpectedly - it did.  

Open Scene: It's the summer of 2021. I was newly divorced and still relatively early in my real estate career. My father was mostly recovered from a gruesome battle with cancer (story to follow another day), but he couldn't really anymore physically keep up with all of the demands that owning a ranch requires. So I made the decision to leave my comfortable lifestyle in Shreveport and to trade in that comfort for work boots and manual labor. I bought my dad's ranch and moved "home" to my very small hometown of Minden, Louisiana. Believe me when I tell you that: NO ONE has been more shocked about this series of decisions than I have been. Yet here I am. I bought this place and reasoned that I would be advancing my career from real estate broker to real estate developer, but mostly I bought this place because I made up my mind that I would do anything I possibly could to keep this magical place in my family. 

Scene 2: It's the summer of 2022. I'm maybe in the best shape of my life. I'm 39, eating well, and no longer living like an alcoholic; I was living a simpler life and thriving in this country setting, which now included the company of a younger man, as I found myself in this on again/off again romance with a certain very handsome landscape designer who'd joined me in this adventure called "Corbeau Creek". We were designing beautiful landscapes together, playing in the gardens all day, making our own dirt we called "voodoo dirt", and quite literally dancing in the rain as often as we could [as I recall, it rained a lot that summer]. We had been in one of those "on again" moments of our relationship when one day I realized that I'm not actually premenopausal as I'd thought... I'm pregnant. It took a couple of days, but once the initial shock of seeing those two pink lines wore off, and once our emotions had quieted a bit, we settled into the following weeks with total bliss. We'd decided to put aside our silly ways and we were committed to each other and to raising a family together - in the home where I myself was raised, no less. And for 4 weeks life was absolutely perfect. *Baby Daddy* was the picture of a devoted partner; he was finally showing me he could be everything I ever dreamed of in a man. Our birthdays were coming up, so we decided we'd spend my big 4-0 and his big 3-5 in a place we'd both been dying to go: The Biltmore in Asheville, NC.  

Scene 3: It's Monday, September 19, 2022 - a day before my birthday and 2 days before B's birthday. We are 8 weeks pregnant and on our way for our 2nd ultrasound before heading to the airport for our big birthday trip. We had been working tirelessly for about a year to open the venue at Corbeau Creek, so we were beyond ready for this vacation. The fact that we were about to be embarking on this journey of parenthood together was the icing on our cake. I was going to be a mom and life was finally making sense. Turning 40 had at one time seemed like a daunting milestone, but not today. Today I welcomed the new decade. We were so caught up in the excitement of it all and in our love for one another that we were in no way prepared for the tragedy that was about to hit us. We walked into that doctor's office full of love & peace, but we would walk out of that place completely changed... shattered even. I lay there with my belly exposed and waiting for the ultrasound tech to let us hear that heartbeat we'd heard only two weeks before. After several moments of her probing, I asked "Is everything OK?" With that unforgettable look of desperation, she admitted that she couldn't find the heartbeat and that she needed to find the Doctor right away. It only took a few more minutes for our Doctor to confirm: Baby was gone. We had about an hour before we needed to be at the airport and the Doctor was asking us if we wanted to cancel the trip and immediately go in for a DNC to remove our dead fetus. It was clearly a lot for us to process in that moment of intense grief, so she also explained that we did have the option to leave and to take with us a script for some pain meds in case Baby decided to pass on her own; then we could continue on with our travel plans and schedule the DNC for when we returned. So we made the decision to travel, knowing that we would be traveling with our dead baby still inside my belly. Baby went with us to the Biltmore. I have traveled the world. I've experienced amazing places, but I don't know if I'll ever have a more beautiful traveling experience as B and Baby and I had that week. We held each other. We cried together - a lot. We walked through gardens and hiked waterfalls. We met very kind people who showed us compassion. And as best we could, we held our heads up, loved one another, and told ourselves that we would try again ... someday. 

If you've ever experienced a loss during pregnancy, you'll understand the agony we felt in the days that followed. If you haven't, you couldn't possibly understand; and I pray that you never do. What we planned as a time of celebration in our lives, in an instant became a shadow of brokenness over us instead. There were moments of real anger. Mostly towards God, but the really painfully angry part I felt was connected to the shame I carried and the frustration I had with myself for allowing myself to be excited about motherhood. How could I be so stupid??? How could I get my hopes up like that??? I just wanted to go to sleep, to wake up, and to find it had all just been a very bad dream. But that didn't happen, and sleep wouldn't come so easily. Not for a while. I figured the sooner I learned to accept this new role and reality as an "angel mom", the better. For several months I found myself back in the role of actress. Pretending to be OK. Pretending I didn't ache every time I passed the baby department in the store. Pretending there wasn't this ugly green monster who wanted to scream every time I saw a woman with a beautiful pregnant belly of her own. I was living in my own version of hell on earth: I was doing my best to be ok on the outside, but felt like I was literally dying on the inside. We got pregnant again that Christmas, but we weren't so foolish this time as to let ourselves get excited about it. After a few more weeks of that short pregnancy, we would learn that Baby #2 would also succumb to fate inside my hostile womb. 



My mom raised us - my siblings and I - with a faith that believes that each time we see a rainbow after a storm, we can be reassured of God's good promises for us - "His children". Mom's faith says that God has a plan for our lives - one to prosper us, and not to harm us, one of hope and a future. I know that my mom and others did their best to reassure me in those moments that my life was going according to plan, but for a while I just couldn't see a plan that had much goodness in it. I recall one day my girlfriend Lauren called to encourage me and to remind me about the story of Rachel in the Bible (Bible Rachel is afterall who I was named for). So Lauren calls to tell me that my life must be going according to plan, because I was living out a story so much like Rachel's in the book of Genesis. Like my namesake, I was a property manager. She, too, wanted so badly to be a mother. And Rachel also struggled with the idea of being loveable... OK... Now it's just getting weird, Lauren.

After that second miscarriage, the toll was pretty hard on B & me. We split, and I did a fair amount of soul searching. I also did some practical things like finding a new OBGYN who in our first appointment agreed to do some tests to see if there was a medical explanation (beyond my age) for the multiple miscarriages. And wouldn't you know, turns out there was! Turns out I have one of the MTHFR gene mutations, and so long as that went untreated, the likelihood of a successful pregnancy was never going to be good for me. I am very grateful to Dr. Williams and I have received tremendous support in her care. A few weeks after learning of the mutation and beginning treatment, I decided to take another trip: I decided to go to England to see my sister Amy ("my person") and her family - her lovely husband Lewis and my incredible niece Annabel. We made a quick voyage to Italy where we learned the arts of making pizza and gelato. We marveled at the architecture, the food, the culture, the people, and my posse even indulged me and let me explore the gardens of Florence. Annabel was also the best roommate. She let me share a room with her and she woke me daily with the best cuddles and snuggles. It was wonderful to be feeling something that resembled peace again. Annabel became my "driftwood", my sign that a child would be in my future. And I once again found myself open to the creative possibilities that the Universe has for my life.  



There's no need to drag out a sad story any longer. Although I had thought the trip across the pond would be the cure to my connection with B, I let the man pick me up from the airport. Ha! What can I say? I still loved him. And he has known me in ways that no other has. We have been through intense emotional trauma together, so it wasn't so easy for me to live apart from him. I have quit trying to predict the future and admit that, since I do not know what the future holds, I am better off trusting that God's plans for my life are better than my own. 



Here's what I do know: shortly after returning from Italy, B and I got pregnant a 3rd time. And this time, it's a double rainbow, baby!!! (CUE the viral "Double Rainbow" video). As of the writing of this story, I am tomorrow entering the 3rd trimester of a twins pregnancy. I am carrying two happy, healthy, and very handsome boys who my doctors tell me are "growing like gangbusters". Phoenix & Fox are expected to make their arrival sometime in July, and I can hardly wait to hold them for the first time. As an expecting mom, I experience a range of emotions daily. I am filled with excitement & anxiety, joy & concern, but most of all I am filled with hope & purpose. I am writing this blog for all the angel moms and rainbow babies, and to any out there struggling with feelings that life is over or that God is a liar. I want to tell you that I believe that when we learn to trust in divine timing, we often find more than what we could have even hoped or imagined. And my present reality is far better than I thought I deserved. I believe that's the beauty of the love that our Creator has for us: we can't do anything to "deserve it". Our Creator's love is simply given to us. So although I may still struggle with doubts of my own lovability, the reality that I'm about to be the mom of these twin boys is all the proof I need: I am divine. I am enough. I am loved. And PS: Hey, Girl, so are you. 

xoxo, 

Rae