Hope. Hope is such a beautiful emotion.
Present in almost every situation, so quiet and unassuming.
It is hope that rolls you out of bed in the morning. And hope that gets you dressed.
It is hope that picks up the telephone. And hope that goes out to work.
It is hope that checks the bank balance. And hope that goes shopping.
It is hope that plans the holiday. And hope that takes the children to the park.
It is hope that smiles at an ultrasound scan. Hope that folds the tiny baby clothes.
It is hope that inspires the building of a cot and the decorating of the nursery.
A quiet whisper or a loud roar.
Taken for granted.
Until it’s gone.
A day without hope is dark and grey.
A day without hope is lonely.
A day without hope is too long or too short, tasks never ending or never begun.
A day without hope ends there and then – it doesn’t fuse into tomorrow.
A day without hope is filled with fear, monsters lurk around every bend, the sun never quite seems to chase the shadows away.
A pregnancy before loss is filled with hope. Flushed, and full and pink and glowing.
Hope hides itself away, deep down inside in a new pregnancy.
Hope is the gentle push to every doctors appointment.
Hope is the hands held, to stop the shaking as they wait for the smile on the midwife’s face.
Hope is holding up the courage to put the cot together.
Hope is the rays of sunshine on the greyest of day.
Hope is the sunrise.
Hope is the gentle kick from inside the tummy.
Hope is the little voice that says “There is always tomorrow”.