My Side of the Rainbow - a poem

At the end of  a rainbow there is a pot of gold, an unknown magical something.
My baby boy died in my womb.  He was a bright lively light in my life.
He left too soon.  My world went silent.
Three years later, my rainbow baby was conceived.
They said:
He will bring you joy.
He will help you heal.
He is what you need.
I said:
Do not put all these pressures on my rainbow.
That is far too much to place on my little boy.
He will be himself.
He will just be.
I will be.
He was a gentle soul.  Kind to his mama.
Calm.
Determined.
My beautiful baby boy, full of hope and promise and a little something on the other side of the rainbow.
One month, two, three, four and five, then came six.
Healthy, strong, perfect.
In an instant, dead.
My rainbow baby didn't come home with me. 
He went to be with his brother.
I do not know what it is like to bring home a rainbow.
My side of the rainbow looks a little different.
I bring home grief.
I bring home memory boxes. 
I bring home footprints, handprints, hats and blankets.
I bring home ashes.
I do not know what it is like to bring home a rainbow.
I bring home a lifetime in a moment.
I bring home anger.
I bring home emptiness.
I bring home sadness.
I do not know what it is like to bring home a rainbow.
I bring home silence.
I bring home a broken heart.
I bring home shattered dreams.
I bring home empty arms.
I do not know what it is like to bring home a rainbow.
My rainbow went to heaven too.
My side of the rainbow?
Darkness.