Losing Hope

My condition is worsening, and it’s becoming more and more clear with the hours that go by that this pregnancy is not going well. I’m losing hope that we’re going to come through this together. And by ‘we’, I mean me and baby.

And I’m sad. So desperately and acutely sad.

Of course, we have no confirmation of anything. I can’t really call and request an ultrasound every day. What if the heart is still beating? Does that give me hope or just more worry? It couldn’t possibly make me feel any better.

All I wanted to do today was curl up in a pile of blankets and wish this last week away. But I had a little boy in his crib with a wet diaper who had a plan for his day that didn’t include watching me mope on the couch. And I had an 8:30 meeting this morning that somehow got rescheduled from the 11:00 I had to miss yesterday because I needed an emergency ultrasound. AND the cleaning lady was coming this morning.

I heard God pret-ty clearly saying, “Go. Get on with your life.” So, I listened. We’ll see where this decides to go.


  1. The ‘going on with life’ thing is, I think, the hardest thing. Will this thing end up OK? Will it not? With all of that burden being shared by no one else, or at most a very few people . . . who you’re not going to spend all your time with talking about it, and even when you do talk about it it doesn’t make it much better, because of the reality of the situation. That uncertainty and fear is the worst. It’s akin to being pretty sure you’re going to throw up, but still being in that place where you’re trying to fight it off and hoping that you can. Multiplied x 1000’s, lived out over days or weeks.

  2. That’s a great analogy, actually. You spend most of your time knowing its not really appropriate to throw up all over everyone you know, but wondering if you’d feel better if you did.

  3. This time around was when this analogy hit me and I shared it with my closest friend at work. It continues to work as you carry it forward–you get to that point of knowing you’re going to throw up, you surrender to it, and then you can at least move forward after.

    And you’ve helped me develop the analogy even further with your response. The people who deeply love you don’t mind that you’ve thrown up–even if they get pegged, too. They’d rather be with you and stink and to go through the cleanup process together than to be far removed and never know anything happened. 😉

    I’m so glad you’re sharing. Love you.

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