…it’s still raining

Rosalynn LasleyFaith, TrialsLeave a Comment

Text after text flooded my inbox, and it wasn’t until I was just about to go to sleep for the night, I realized it wasn’t coincidental. 

Early in the morning, a close friend talked about her newest baby, and how greatly she misses the one she lost. It’s been four years, but it still hurts just the same.
Evening came, and my sister sent me a picture of the scenery over my nephews soccer game. There was no rhyme or reason for the picture, she just thought it was pretty so she shared it with me.  

It wasn’t until a really dear friend asked me an innocent question, that I realized that maybe God was trying to get my attention. After all,  I have been asking Him what I should write about, for over two weeks now. 

The question was:  “I was wondering how you are, with life with your rainbow?”

When she said rainbow, she was talking about my baby, my rainbow baby.


If you were to google “what is a rainbow baby?” the response you would get is this:

A “rainbow baby” is a baby that is born following a miscarriage, stillbirth, neonatal death or infant loss. In the real world, a beautiful and bright rainbow follows a storm and gives hope of things getting better. The rainbow is more appreciated having just experienced the storm in comparison.



My friend’s question caught me off guard, because I don’t know if anyone has ever asked me that before, at least not as point blank as she did.  I’ve thought of what it’s like plenty of times.  There’s a good chance that I’ve thought more about what this feels like to me, more than I have thought about anything else these last 7 months.  However, I don’t think I’ve ever tried to put it into words. I don’t think I’ve ever tried to explain it, not even to myself.  I know exactly what it feels like, I’ve felt it a thousand times.  It’s one silent tear after another, falling in the middle of the night, but I’ve never tried to articulate it.  Some of those things just can’t be put into words. 

My response to her was simple, but also very heavy:  “It’s still hard, it always will be I think. You look at your rainbow and you are so thankful, but you know they are only here because their sibling essentially gave up their life for them, if that makes sense. The hard days feel guilty, because how could you ever be tired, or overwhelmed or touched out, when all you ever wanted was this rainbow baby? Sometimes I feel like I can’t speak up when it’s a hard day because how could I ever complain? I should just count my blessings. But the truth is, hard days are still blessed hard days sometimes. Here’s the thing about rainbows…sometimes they appear while it’s still raining.” 

I didn’t realize how profound my own words would be until I sat down to write this blog. 


“Here’s the thing about rainbows…sometimes they appear while it’s still raining.” 

I sat and mulled over that statement all morning while trying to gather my thoughts enough to write. I decided the best place to begin would be in the beginning, so I went back to Genesis, where God gave us the rainbow. 


“Thus I establish My covenant with you: Never again shall all flesh be cut off by the waters of the flood; never again shall there be a flood to destroy the earth.” And God said: “This is the sign of the covenant which I make between Me and you, and every living creature that is with you, for perpetual generations: I set My rainbow in the cloud, and it shall be for the sign of the covenant between Me and the earth. It shall be, when I bring a cloud over the earth, that the rainbow shall be seen in the cloud; and I will remember My covenant which is between Me and you and every living creature of all flesh; the waters shall never again become a flood to destroy all flesh. The rainbow shall be in the cloud, and I will look on it to remember the everlasting covenant between God and every living creature of all flesh that is on the earth.” And God said to Noah, “This is the sign of the covenant which I have established between Me and all flesh that is on the earth.”” Genesis 9:11-17 NKJV


I couldn’t help but wonder about Noah, in ways I never had until today. 


God didn’t clear the skies before He sent the rainbow and made His promise to Noah. The very first rainbow was right in the middle of the cloudy, and stormy skies. After I read that verse, I sat and wondered greatly, what that must have been like for him.

When Noah saw the rainbow, did he think of the flood? 

When Noah saw the rainbow, did he think of what earth was like before it had been washed away?

When Noah saw the rainbow, did he think of all that he had lost? Did he grieve the people who drowned as the rains came pouring down?


What was it like for Noah, every time that it rained? Was he sad when it rained? Did it remind him of the flood? What about every time he saw another rainbow?


Was Noah afraid that God wouldn’t actually keep his promise?


What do you think of when you see your rainbow?

My rainbow is beautiful.  She is so beautiful and so greatly wanted, that words often escape me.  The hardest thing about my rainbow is, sometimes it reminds me of the flood.


Sometimes my rainbow reminds me that the joy that is her life, comes because of the deepest flood of sorrow, that has ever washed over me.  Grief rained down so hard, there were times I felt like I was drowning. I didn’t have the strength to tread the water any longer.  The grief swept me away.  The storm of my miscarriage, and the flood of pain that followed changed me, and my world will never look the same because of it.  It’s a hard thing being a “rainbow momma.” For me, being a rainbow momma means learning how to navigate being full of immeasurable joy, and debilitating sorrow, all at the same time.  Sometimes the rainbow appears, while it’s still raining.


For me, being a rainbow momma comes with a lot of guilt.  Sometimes I feel guilty for the times when I am happy, and enjoying life with my rainbow baby.  I find myself thinking “how can you be so happy when a part of you literally died?”  Yet at the same time I feel guilty for the times I miss the baby I never met, because I should be grateful for the living children I do have.  I feel guilty for the days when I’m sleep deprived and burnt out.  I begged the Lord for this rainbow baby, and gave up a life in exchange for these sleepless nights.  How could I ever complain about being tired? Which would I rather have, a good nights sleep, or a restless baby to rock all night?


When I look at my rainbow baby, I see joy I would never have, if it weren’t for her, but she doesn’t replace the baby we lost.  She is our hope, our promise, and our light when skies are gray.  She is our rainbow that appeared, while it’s still raining. 


Maybe your rainbow isn’t a baby.  Maybe your rainbow is the fuzzy hair growing at the top of your head, as you recover from your battle from cancer.  Maybe it’s finally needing to shave your legs for the first time in months (or even years) because the chemo isn’t stealing your hair anymore.  Maybe your rainbow is falling in love again after being widowed, or divorced or left alone and lonely.  Maybe your rainbow is the coin you received acknowledging your sobriety, or the name signed at the bottom of an adoption form.  Maybe your rainbow reminds you of the flood sometimes too.  That’s ok, as long as it reminds you of Gods faithfulness and promises too.  


Here’s the thing about rainbows…sometimes they appear while it’s still raining.  

In His Love,
Rosalynn    







About Rosalynn Lasley

I’ve been happily married to my high school sweetheart more years of my life than believable. It’s true what they say, time flies when you’re having fun. God has blessed us with 4 children, 3 we have the pleasure of raising, and one waiting for us in Heaven.

I have always enjoyed writing but my call to ministry came during some of my most difficult times thus far. Writing for Alaska Christian Women’s Ministry helped me start to make sense of all that God has been walking me through, even when sometimes it’s messy and painful. I never realized that telling my story, even the ugly parts, could be encouraging to other women until I started writing. It’s true that God will make beauty from ashes, you just have to let Him.

My writing is often serious, and sometimes heavy in nature, but in real life I’m usually the complete opposite of serious. I LOVE TO LAUGH, and say that humor is my unofficial spiritual gift. I’m fairly awkward when first meeting someone, but if I can make you laugh then I think we’ll end up being excellent friends. I’m certain that my husband is the only person on earth that doesn’t think I’m all that funny. If I can make him laugh, I’m a happy girl!

I have the blessing of serving in the junior high ministry at my local church, and find it such a joy hanging out with those smelly young people, week after week. They bless my heart far more than I could ever bless theirs in the short amount of time we meet each week.

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