Many of my posts over the past seven or so months have been about hope. And the idea of hope continues to strike me as a bit of an oxymoron. You hold onto this idea or vision that is supposed to give you strength for moving forward. And more often than not that idea is not put into fruition and you are left weaker than before.
Up until Wednesday of this week I was pregnant. It is funny that they tell you not to make the "big announcement" until you pass a certain number of weeks for fear you may lose the baby, but then you lose the baby and you are making a big announcement that you lost a baby most people didn't know you had. But we had her. For 12 weeks she strived in my belly and everything seemed perfect. And for a second I thought maybe this would be it - we would have our rainbow baby. A chance to smile again. Hope.
This past year has been filled with a whole lot of numbers; 38 weeks, 5 days, 10%, 12 weeks, .0001, 1 in 6, 98%, .11, 7 to 10, 1%. Are these the numbers of hope? Is that all hope can give me are a bunch of numbers? These numbers don't give me hope. The truth is that all these numbers have weaken the strength I ever felt in what I had hoped for.
Maybe the thing about hope is that at a certain point you have to hope for something else. Right now I am hoping that I can focus on what I DO have and not what I don't. I am hoping that I can somehow find something to smile about in the upcoming months as my belly grows smaller rather than larger. Right now I am hoping I can face those around me who have the luxury of not having to think about what these numbers mean. Right now I am hoping to find complete happiness in the presence of my living daughter, an absolute gift. Maybe that is all we should ever hope for. Is to just find happiness in our gifts.
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