I’ve been struck the last few days by some things other people have done and said around me that demonstrated something important in the way that we’re all looking towards Zoe’s birth, even in light of Doria’s death. Honestly, it’s something that I’m sure people even really thought of, because courageous things so often happen that way. It showed me that they had the courage to hope, and the courage to let me (or us) know about it. No names here, to avoid embarrassment, but true stories.
People have started handing us cute outfits, or offering clothes that would fit in 2015, when Zoe is older. It’s not a ton, which is good because we have so much already, but it really indicates hope. Nobody gives us stuff and says, “If she manages to live, this will be nice.” I can’t really see that conversation going well. Instead, people are doing things expecting the good result this time. I appreciate that. It really sounds like courage and hope.
We have a babysitter scheduled for some key dates coming up. OK, basketball dates, but they’re key to us. She acts without hesitation, and that’s brave in our scenario.
I have the OK to have the cell phone on and handy for classes this week, because we expect a call that Becky went into labor. It takes guts to be open with the hopeful expectation.
I walked into a meeting this week, and things quickly stopped for the question “So, when does this baby happen?” People have expectations, and that’s nice. We’re a group that doesn’t really shy away from things, but we didn’t shy away from this. It could be a very sensitive topic, but we walked right in. I appreciate that kind of courage.
We’ve both been asked a billion times now, “So, when is she coming?” It’s the normal question at this point, but we’re in an abnormal spot since Doria died. I appreciate that people are looking forward to Zoe instead of tap-dancing so delicately around something that could be awkward. I’m glad that the expectation hasn’t been awkward, too.
There are people suffering through their own loss that take the time to hope with us. That’s unbelievably difficult, and I’m humbled by their willingness to stick their own necks out like that. It’s hard to hope when you’re hurting, but hurting people are doing that for us and Zoe. That might be the most amazing hope that I’ve ever seen.
Some people have been able to broach the potential awkwardness of it, too. That’s a tough area to wander into, and some people have been able to get themselves there. That’s the kind of courage that should win major awards, but it really happens in the shadows where others will never really know.
For everyone who has jumped in, and for all the examples that I simply haven’t thought to mention, thanks for having the courage to hope. I respect that more than these words can really say. That’s really outstanding, and it goes a long ways to encouraging each of us in these last 6.5 days of waiting.