Again, from my Robert Kinkade day-by-day calendar:
"Learn the fine art of choosing what you will allow into your life, mind, and heart on a daily basis."
"Hope is a very resilient quality."
I own this calendar because it was a gift, and because the person who gave it to me liked the artwork on each of the pages. And, yes, the quotes are a little lame and corny. But the lameness is acceptable to me when it gives me something of a mantra for the day. Surround yourself with positive energy and all that crap.
I have something of an irrational fear of a mid-term loss. All of the women that I know (online) that have had more than one stillbirth have had one at term and one somewhere between 20-22 weeks.
So, a cornball and lame mantra works for me. Hope is a very resilient quality. Come on, powers that be - keep on infusing me with new shots of hope.
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2 comments:
Here's to hope.....I am stunned that we can still find it sometimes....as the quote goes - hope springs eternal in the human breast.....This somehow keeps us going in the face of such fear and sadness. just get through each day as best as you can...that is all you can really ask of yourself.
Thinking of you...
This is going to be a long comment. FYI.
I just read your blog today for the first time. This is why I am commenting:
"I am such an organized soul that I read posts from start to finish, beginning with the earliest archived message. This becomes such an investment with respect to both time and emotion. Especially since I am drawn to bloggers that actually have something to say. And have been saying it for a while."
I do the same thing when I find a blog that has good writing and personality and catches my attention and won't let it go. Sometimes that means I sit at the computer well into the night and leave the chair with a sore ass. Sometimes it means I burn an hour (and a half!) of work time that would be better (?) spent actually working. Always, it means that I have laughed and cried my way through someone's amazing story.
I am not sure why I feel comfortable telling you (vs. other grieving mothers) this, and you can come find me and strike me down if this upsets you, but I am not like you. I have not suffered such a loss as you or the other dead baby blog writers have suffered. So I cannot relate or imagine what pain and struggle and work you have done to get to the place you are in now. However, I am drawn to your stories as if reading them will prepare me somehow, will help me to stop the same thing from happening if I know that it's possible.
I am 7 weeks pregnant with my second child. My first is 17 months. After I read blogs like yours, I go home or go into the next room and I hold him while he struggles to make me let him go. I feel aching and longing and fear of the future. I cry. I am a freak.
But I don't want to stop reading because I want to see your stories come to happy endings. I want some payback for you. I want you to sue the doctors who screwed up your deliveries. I want you to give birth to healthy babies so you can feel what it's like to bring them home and clothe them in the little onesies you stroke and smell, imagining what they would be like with babies in them.
I won't say more. I just want you to know that in addition to providing comfort and sameness to other women in your community, you also touch people who are not like you because of your forthrightness, your excellent writing, and your courage.
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