Hope, you fickle thing

A year ago today this morning we were allowing ourselves a teeny bit of hope. My cervical changes and the contractions had stabilized. The bleeding had stopped. I had had both steroid shots.

Josh spent more time at home this day than he had since we entered the hospital. I used the time to watch an U.gly B.etty marathon on A.BC Family. He used the time to download a bunch of video game ROMS to my laptop. We planned to spend the evening playing ancient Nintendo games.

Funny how incredibly clear the details of the day are when I really had no idea it would be more remarkable than the other hospital days which blend together.

When he arrived back at the hospital, we’d missed the closing of the kitchen, but that was okay. Instead we ordered pizza. While he was gone picking it up, I went to the bathroom and found more blood. Back came the doctors with the machines. Nothing looked particularly different except for the bleeding, but my hope took a major dive. Bed rest became 100%. I had to learn to use a bed pan.

We still ate our pizza, played our games, and had fun, but from then on, fear overtook hope.


10 responses to “Hope, you fickle thing

  1. Too many landmines.
    May this day be better than last year. May next year be a good one.

  2. This hurts to read. It must be painful to remember.

  3. I’m sorry hon. This is just so unfair.

  4. I hate that these are the crystal clear memories. Wish I could give hope a swift kick in the ass for you (for all of us). I wish you so much peace getting through this awful anniversary.

  5. i think that perhaps the hardest bits to look back on are those ones that were tinged with hope, because you realize later how clearly vulnerable you were, with no clue of the hell about to break loose.

    thinking of you, honouring the place you were last year, and celebrating the place you are tonight.

  6. the days leading up to it are so difficult. my “10 days of bedrest” will always be a black hole in my calendar. i’m sending you lots of hugs across the miles for natan’s upcoming anniversary.

  7. The looking back on “just before…” Those are the memories that can still crush me.

    I am thinking of you during this time of so many memories.

  8. I’m also here thinking of you, Josh, and Natan.

    For me it was the days leading up to the anniversary of William’s birth/death that were the hardest. And the memories of the hopeful moments are very painful but also very beautiful.

  9. i am almost entering this club now…the one where “one year ago today” would be some pregnancy related memory. i’m not looking forward to it.

  10. Yes, those moments are crystal clear. The details of my successful birth with Andy are already blurring, but Jimmy’s are still branded on me.

    Here’s hoping you can find more peace in 2008.

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