The Power of Hope

I have hoped for a lot of things in my life. The best and the biggest thing I have hoped for is my baby, my Rowan. 

I have been forced to see hope differently, being sick can do that to you. I have delved deep into a relationship with hope. I have pushed it away and begged and beckoned it back, like a lover. And like so, it has broken my heart, but rarely has it left me in my darkest hour or my greatest need. Hope and I, we have been intimate for awhile now. 

I had cancer when I was nineteen and there were a lot times that I shouldn’t have had hope, but I did. It was a constant companion during those times. My mom hoped for my future and my future children, because I was nineteen and those thoughts hadn’t occurred to me. I hoped for long hair, and my eyebrows to return. 

I have been sad a lot in my life, but there was one specific time that I was so sad I would cry myself to sleep every night. I hoped for things I shouldn’t have hoped for and I was blessed with my hope deferred.

When I tried to get pregnant, I hoped harder than I have ever hoped before. I pleaded with God and asked Him to make me the mother I knew I was in my heart. There were so many times I wanted to give up, but my hope didn’t abandoned me. For two years this hope was my devoted friend.

I read this book about a doctor talking about the power of hope. He found, through his research, patients whose doctors gave them false hope when there was no real hope to be found, that those terminal patients did not make it. The terminal patients that were given the correct prognosis, and told that there was not much that could be done, those were the patients that were more apt to survive. He credited it to hope.

I found out I was pregnant on a snowy Monday evening and I sat on my bed and wept. After pouring my body and soul into believing him into existence, he was here. I wept for the beauty of the dream fulfilled, this dream and future dreams that this little being would create. I sat on my bed and shook. I have never been more happy and more humbled by the power of hope than I had in that moment. I had waited for that moment and the magic of that moment changed me. 

There is power in hope. There is power in believing against all the odds. It transcends this world. It aligns our heart, soul, and spirit, it’s otherworldly. There is something in the desperation we feel, the yearning in our bones. There is something in the tears we cry, the blood we shed. 

I hoped for so many things when I was pregnant. I hoped that he was healthy and that he knew, even then, he was loved. I hoped for a good home to bring him home to. I hoped to be a good mother. I hoped to make the world a better place, and I hope that he will too. 

The world is always going to be a sad place, hope is our weapon. I don’t know the answers, and I don’t have a formula, but I believe in the changing power of hope. I believe in the painful birthing of dreams that spiritually mimics the labor of bringing our babies into this world. There is power in childbirth and there is power in laboring our dreams forth, there is power in our hope. 

I want Rowan to be a boy who hopes for his future, and a man that hopes for the unknown. I want him to believe in things unseen. And I pray that he, too, has hope as a constant companion and a devoted friend. 

 

Village Journalist,

Laura Robinson