Memoirs of a Baby-Lost Mama

It was the cloud that circled closely, hovering, teasing, saying "here's what you want but you can't have it just yet". Not now, maybe later. Maybe if you're lucky.

In the darkness, the cloud seemed to comsume whatever light there was. But it was a sliver of hope that punched through. Tales of an optimist, determined not to give up, who believed that everything would work out in the end, somehow.

Truthfully, it was not expected to happen so soon. A third chance in a year became a bit of a taunting joke. Even with the first flickers, thumps, rolls and melting heart, the cloud hung back just waiting to come in a burst the happiest of moments. The doubt would surface again, convincing the Optimist that perhaps it was all some twisted dream, never real.

Slapped back into reality, the cloud is pushed back a little, just barely out of sight. It's presence still felt. Hushed maybe but it's whispers still screamed for attention.

And then it happened. The cloud changed from a dark thunderhead into something less sinister, more tangibly happy. Perhaps it could stay this way? Can it happen like that?

Nothing prepared the Optimist for this particular event. They say that nothing prepares you for when you create life and welcome it into this world but did "they" ever have a cloud hovering waiting to steal your sunshine? Were they made to doubt and in the weaker moments, give up in despair? Sometimes I think "they" are stating the obvious but also the greatest understatement there ever was.

Optimism may not have prepared the Optimist for this, but it surely didn't leave me desitiute and alone. Harder to hold on to than anything else in the world, hope is our blanket, our comfort. Today, it takes the form of a tiny soul casting newness, naivete and worldy wisdom all in the loving gaze of deep eyes.