The First Rainbow Baby

Pitter-patter, pitter-patter. The rain fell in rhythmic splatters, slowly slowing, but still constant.

Mira rolled onto her side pulling the blanket tight against her ears, but still she could hear chitter-chatter and scurrying feet of the creatures that refused to sleep in the lower decks.

Everything lurched sideways, violently, and Mira’s stomach rolled angrily. She tried to hold it in, but a second lurch sent her rushing from under her blankets to the wooden bucket a few feet away. Of course, that was the sound that roused Japheth from his deep slumber.

She had no desire to have her husband watch her retch violently, yet again. But the shame she felt quickly dissipated as Japheth carefully pulled her long, dark hair away from her face and gently rubbed her back.

“Father says the rain should stop soon,” he whispered the promise as Mira curled into his arms, her stomach now completely empty. She couldn’t help letting the tears stream over her cheeks. “It’s been nearly thirty days and the Lord said forty.”

No one else seemed to get as sick as Mira. In the early days, when the rain came in torrential downpours and the fountains erupted from fissures in the ground, everyone hunched over buckets, skipped meals, and prayed for calmer weather. But after the second week, most of the family had gotten used to the sensation of constant movement and the waters became less violent.

“I know I should just be grateful,” Mira whispered. “And I am. To be one of the few chosen to be saved, is a great blessing. I think it would be easier if I could get some rest. But I just can’t seem to sleep. I lay awake listening to the rain and the animals. Then I start thinking about my parents, my brothers, and my sisters. Their death must have been terrible.”

Japheth just held her. She indeed felt fortunate to have a gentle husband. His brothers did not seem to share the same understanding of their wives' struggles. Ham often teased relentlessly, humor his distraction of choice. While Shem met any mention of those lost in the flood with a scathing tongue lashing. In his mind they did not deserve salvation, let alone remorse or grief. Mira often found Johanna and Salome busying themselves with chores while hiding their tears shamefully from their husbands.

But Japheth just held Mira and let her cry. They both knew Mira’s family had become wicked and even sought to kill them after hearing Japheth’s father preach. But Japheth also understood his wife had never stopped hoping they would repent. She had gone to her mother the morning the rain started, one last attempt to convince her. But what she found her mother and sister doing when she arrived…Mira had left in tears, knowing she would never see any of them again.

Thump-thump, thump-thump. Mira listened to the steady, calming bump of Japheth’s heart against his chest. The sound soothed her, drowning out everything else. Finally, sleep pulled her into its warm tendrils as the rocking motion slowed to a gentle lull.

The next morning, Mira felt more refreshed than she had in weeks. She headed into the kitchen to help prepare the morning meal and found Leah alone. As usual her mother-in-law greeted her with a smile and a list of tasks to get started on.

“Where are Johanna and Salome today? Are they still sleeping?” Mira wondered aloud as she ground the wheat with the pestle.

“Poor dears are both in their seasons.” Leah explained. “I sent them to get washed up.”

“Oh, that must be miserable,” Mira sighed. She hadn’t thought about having to deal with the added mess of her season here. Before, they had separate tents to spend their time in so they wouldn’t soil their homes. But here there would be no place to retreat to.

“It isn’t pleasant anywhere, but it wasn’t too bad for me last week,” Leah reassured Mira.

“I didn’t even realize you were in your season last week,” Mira reflected on Leah’s constant strength, her unceasing dedication to taking care of everyone aboard. She had not slowed one bit.

“Well, in all my years going to the tents I have learned that not every woman’s season is the same. I was always blessed to have a much shorter and easier time than many,” the family matriarch pat Mira’s hand gently. “But what about you? It should be about time for your season as well.”

“Oh,” Mira thought for a moment, remembering Japheth’s words from last night. It has been nearly thirty days. “Mother Leah, I think my season is late.”

“I’m not surprised,” the older woman smiled knowingly. “I’ve watched how you have struggled so much these last weeks while everyone else has finally gotten accustomed to the movement. I don’t think it is because you are weaker than the rest of us.”

Mira’s jaw dropped open and a thousand thoughts chased themselves around her brain.

“You’ll be fine, Mira,” Leah put her arm around the younger one’s shoulders. “I’ve helped with many births. Not on a boat, but it’s only supposed to rain for forty days. We’ll be on dry land before your days are accomplished.”

Mira hoped Leah was as prophetic as the family patriarch.

The rains continued to slow over the next eleven days until they dissipated completely. It finally was safe enough to walk out onto the deck, enjoy the sun, and smell the fresh air. Mira walked with Japheth, holding his hand looking out across the vast expanse of water that stretched in every direction.

“This is much better, don’t you think?’ Japheth breathed deep. “The smell down there has been getting unbearable.”

Mira clasped her hand over her mouth, just the thought of the odor made her stomach twist.

“You’re not still feeling sick, are you?” Japheth got his answer as Mira leaned over the edge of the railing and watched her breakfast plummet into the waiting waters. “I was hoping that now the waters are still your stomach would settle, too.”

“I’m afraid it isn’t the waters, Japheth.” Mira wiped her mouth on her sleeve. “I’ve missed my season, too.”

Japheth pulled his eyebrows tight together. “What do you mean, my love?”

“The lord did not save just eight people, he saved nine.” Mira placed her hand over her stomach.

Japheth whooped loudly, lifting Mira from her feet and hugging her tightly against him. “I’m truly the most blessed man in all the world!”

They both laughed, the sound echoing against the wooden hull and rolling across the waters.

The days passed without any more rain. The waters remained calm and the family often took refuge from the heady stench that permeated the lower levels by walking on the upper decks. Leah began issuing chores to help clean up their floating home now that they could safely move about. The women started with the family quarters, scrubbing the floors where their refuse buckets had sloshed onto the boards. Mira insisted on helping, though her tender stomach often undid her careful scrubbing as she gagged on the putrid odors. The men began in the deck just below, mucking out the animal cages, lugging the heavy piles of waste up to the top where they would dump it overboard.

After weeks of scrubbing, the smell became bearable for most of them. Mira still gagged all too often, especially when it came time for her to help feed the larger animals. Salome offered to do extra for her but Mira wanted to do her part. Anyway, as much as she loathed their smell, Mira loved the animals they cared for. Most were little more than babies and longed for a loving touch that Mira generously provided.

So Mira joined Johanna and Salome in the task of feeding the animals. They had finished the first deck and had just gotten started with the second.

“Ugh,” Johanna groaned. “There's another new litter of mice. The third this week. Do you think we should separate them before they overrun everything?”

Salome shook her head, “It'll take a few weeks before the young ones are mature enough to have more and we need eight adult mice everyday to keep our other pets fed.”

“How do you know that?” Johanna looked at her sister-in-law in awe.

Salome shrugged, “I've been paying attention.”

She reached in the enclosure and handed a couple wriggling mice to Johanna, then turned back to get a couple more for Mira.

Johanna groaned again, “This is my least favorite part of feeding the animals.”

All three women were focused on keeping the mice in their hands from wriggling free so no one noticed Ham sneak in until he grabbed Johanna from behind to scare her, making her scream and lose grip on the mice. Ham laughed hysterically, having gotten exactly the reaction from his wife he wanted.

But Mira and Salome scowled as they watched the mice scurry away.

“You had better go find those mice before they find their way into our food supply!” Salome ordered. “You need to take some things seriously, Ham.”

Ham kept laughing, “You worry too much, Sal. They'll just end up wandering into the wrong enclosure and one of our pets will get an extra snack.”

He left the way he had come, heading to the lower deck to muck out stalls with his brothers, still chortling to himself.

The women dropped off the wriggling mice to the snakes, Lion cubs, owls, and coyote pups. Then they moved on to feed the other animals.

Mira reached her favorite pet. The male elephant calf put his head between the slats of the enclosure gate and wrapped his trunk around Mira in a hug. She gently stroked his cheek and cooed lovingly at him.

Too late, she saw the escaped mouse scurry into the enclosure.

The elephant trumpeted in fear, shuffling his feet in an attempt to get away from the terrifying creature, shaking his head violently. The heavy trunk slammed into Mira’s stomach, knocking her from her feet and sending her careening into the wall. Everything went black.

Days later she woke to find Japheth cradling her gently, his tears falling softly like rain. He didn't have to tell her the horrible truth. She felt the loss immediately.

It took days for her bleeding to stop and even longer for her tears to wane. Even still, her heart felt heavy with pain and a somber cloud hung over the entire ship.

The family all had become more quiet and finally one night at dinner, Japheth dared talk about the elephant in the room downstairs.

“Did anyone else suspect such a large animal would be so afraid of a tiny creature? I mean, imagine being frightened of something a hundred times smaller than you?”

Ham just looked at his brother, clearly unsure what reaction Japheth expected.

“Come on brother,” Japheth ventured the semblance of a smile. “I know I was angry and blamed you when Mira got hurt. But it's not your fault. You couldn't have known what would happen. I miss the fun times. You used to always ‘Ham’ it up at dinner and make us all laugh.”

“Did you really just use my name as a verb?” Ham raised an eyebrow.

Johanna smiled, “I like it. I think it's going to catch on.”

“Well, I did really make a Shemming mess out of things.” Ham ventured a smile.

“Oh no, you are NOT turning my name into a curse!” Shem shook his head in protest. But that just made the family laugh all the more.

While the rest were distracted in fits of giggles, Ham met Mira’s eyes for the first time since she woke. “I'm sorry.” He whispered.

She surprised herself by honestly smiling back at him, no anger simmered in her heart next to the grief.

Later that night, after the rest had retired to bed, Mira walked hand in hand with Japheth across the deck, under the stars. At times they talked. At times they enjoyed the silence. But mostly, they just were. Then Japheth hesitantly ventured a kiss. As his lips gently pressed against hers, Mira was surprised how much she actually needed it. It woke something inside that she had not realized she missed. He pulled away all too soon, clearly worried she wasn't ready. In response, she let her clothes fall to the wooden planks so the moonlight could dance across her exposed flesh. Japheth’s eyes filled with desire and he took her again in his arms. Under the stars, where only God and the angels watched, they reminded each other they shared more than just their loss. They joined again, as husband and wife, chasing away the pain that had consumed them.

Life slowly returned to its normal routine. Though the pain still lingered, it faded to the background.

Then, one morning, Leah asked Mira to cook the eggs for breakfast. The sulfuric odor enveloped Mira and her stomach clenched angrily. She held it back for a moment but soon found herself hunched over a bowl heaving painfully as her empty stomach regurgitated thick green acid.

Once again Leah smiled knowingly, “The Lord blessed you once, it appears he has blessed you once again.”

Leah assured her that this time would be different. As the weeks passed, Japheth nervously hovered. Salome and Johanna took over many of the chores, saving the less strenuous activities for Mira.

Mira waited impatiently, her stomach growing more swollen, her back aching deeper, and her bladder getting ever smaller. She longed to sleep on something softer than hay covered wood. She wished to squat in the privacy of a thicket of trees rather than over the rim of a bucket. She yearned to distance herself from the pungent fumes that still permeated every inch of the lower decks. Every day without a sign of dry land, brought her more worry of what lay ahead.

Finally, while she napped on the upper deck, in the fresh air of the afternoon, the screeching cry of wood sliding against rock crashed into her sleep, snatching her eyes open. A heavy jolt sent her sliding several feet across the deck. Mira awkwardly rolled to her knees and clambered to her feet. Japheth ran to her side, helping her up.

“What was that noise?”

“I think we hit land!” Japheth looked just as relieved as Mira felt.

Their relief came too soon, it seemed. They had in fact hit land, the boat wedged against rock and stopped moving. But each week the family patriarch sent forth a dove who just could not find any perch, and so they waited.

And waited.

The water slowly receded more and more. Finally, after several weeks of failed attempts, the dove returned with hope, a literal olive branch. Father announced that they would indeed disembark.

Everyone whooped in joy, everyone except Mira.

Pain shot through her abdomen, her muscles tightening angrily, and she fell to her knees with a loud involuntary shriek of pain. Japheth turned to her with worry-filled eyes.

But Leah just smiled, “Perfect timing, my daughter! Let's get you on dry land so we can deliver this baby. Japheth, help her walk off this ship please. Salome, go get some clean cloths. Johanna, get a bowl for clean water.”

The pain receded from Mira’s swollen belly and she was able to walk off the boat with little help. But as soon as she set foot on the soft green grasses her stomach again clenched, sending shooting pains throughout her body, bringing her to her knees again.

Japheth sat behind Mira, helping support her back as Leah issued orders from the front.

And then came the cry, not from Mira, from her son. Leah wrapped him in a clean cloth and handed him to his mother's waiting arms. Mira and Japheth both cried tears of pure joy as they kissed their son's precious head.

The family gathered around them, issuing congratulations.

“Oh my!” Johanna gasped pointing in the sky and drawing everyone's attention to where light arched over the earth, splitting into seven different colors. “What is that, Father?”

Noah smiled at his family, “That is a promise from God that despite all we've been through there is still hope. He will bless us and send us joy.”

--

Genesis 9:13 “I do set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be for a token of a covenant between me and the earth.”

The American Pregnancy Association explains, “Rainbow baby is a healthy baby born after losing a baby due to miscarriage, infant loss, stillbirth, or neonatal death. Rainbow babies are considered ‘miracle’ babies due to the powerful impact they can have on helping parents heal after a loss.

The term Rainbow baby has gained popularity among parents in the baby loss community. It symbolizes hope, healing and something beautiful after a dark and turbulent time. This is much like the rainbow’s symbol of promise and light.”

https://americanpregnancy.org/getting-pregnant/pregnancy-loss/what-is-a-rainbow-baby/