I have hope.
There are many reasons why, but I have to share this
one. Eight months ago on a Friday, my
daughter called as I was getting ready for work.
“Dad, can you come over? I need help.”
“Sure. What’s wrong?”
“I think I miscarried while using the restroom.”
I ran the two houses down and found her lying in the floor
of her bedroom, shaking, and white while her ten month old crawled around her
happily. After making sure she wasn't in immediate danger, we called the doctor.
They told her that she should just come in on her scheduled appointment Monday
and to bring the miscarriage material along if she could. I got a Ziploc bag
and armed with a Qtip, weeping uncontrollably, did the hardest thing I've ever
done.
So, why do I have hope? Because what happened was a rare
complication and at 1:28 Monday morning, I helped her husband coach her as Samuel
John was born. How can I not?
What do I hope for? Well, many things. I hope to continue
helping people, however I can. I hope that
my stories will find their way into people’s hearts and bring them enjoyment. I
hope to continue surrounding myself with good people. I hope to find an agent
who is one of those good people. (I have my eye on one...and I hope she sees the things
in me that I see and sense in her.) In the end, if all my efforts come to naught,
I don't think it will change my outlook. However if it starts to, if the
hope within me falters, I'll just walk a couple of doors down and visit my grandchildren.
Once again congratulations. Having had a miscarriage, I know how precious the miracle of life is. I'm glad things worked out for your daughter, and that you were able to be there for the birth of your grandson.
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