Gentle Reader, I have a confession to make.I am guilty of allowing hope to creep into my heart. I'm afraid that I have managed to subconscioulsy convince myself that we are going to still see a heartbeat tomorrow. Sure, I'm toeing the line of saying, "expecting the worst, the other shoe to drop, etc" but I find that I lack that conviction. Maybe it's because I haven't had any bright red spotting, maybe it's because the nausea and sore boobs continue. Maybe it's because I still feel pregnant (and bloated).
I haven't told Sweetie (who gives our chances at about 15% that things will work out) because I know what he will say (which is what I say to myself already): you are setting yourself up for disappointment.
I try to visualize the appointment I had with Dr. Uterus when he found that I was going to miscarry the first time. I try to remind myself of the utter shock and pain that I felt at the suckerpunch I had received after the weeks of blissful innocence and lack of drama.
Or maybe, I'm just giddy at knowing that by this time tomorrow we will have an answer and mistaking it for hope. Maybe I'm so exhausted of the back and forth that I'm drunk on not worrying about it. Whatever it is, I'm surprisingly calm and collected. Peaceful, in fact. These are not the emotions of a girl who is supposedly expecting for the other shoe to drop.
You may ask what is wrong with a little hope? Absolutely nothing. What is wrong is what I do with hope - I magnify it, extrapolate it and turn it into all kinds of balloon animals. In other words, I just take and take and take like a freshman at their first keg stand. I can't have some hope. It's either hope or no hope. Just the way I'm made.
But, still, I prefer just not to think about tomorrow, not think about the big P, not think about anything.
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6 comments:
I understand your hope, because to find yourself here, after where you were just a short time ago, is a miracle for sure. Your story amazes me, and I am aching to see it have a happy ending. Good thoughts, as always, coming your way.
I don't think it would be possible for you to be in the position you're in and not allow hope to creep in there, even just a little bit. You're a human being. Hope is a human emotion, and you're entitled to it.
For what it's worth, I've been hoping that you'll get good news tomorrow. I'll be thinking about you.
I am so hoping you get the good news you so deserve tomorrow. I think your symptoms are all good signs.
Can't blame you one little bit for letting your hope creep back in. Am hoping things go your way tomorrow.
Sometimes the peace comes in the surrender of what you know you cannot control. You're doing the best you can do. Believe in that.
Oh, how you can not have hope? If you didn't allow hope to creep in, even hope tempered with a very real understanding of reality, you would just be a shell of a human, which you, my virtual friend, most certainly are not. I have hope for you. I admit that some of that hope is selfish because if a wonderful thing happens to you, it opens up the possibility of wonderful things happening for others too. I'll be holding your virtual hand tomorrow.
My retrospective two cents (now that I know what happened): You felt the truth, not hope.
I'm sending all my hippy, pagan growth vibes to the Phoenix.
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