This was my HAWMC prompt today: Pick someone else’s blog post and write a comment to them, using your blog post as the way to communicate.
I arrived late to the motherhood part of my life. Not just fashionably late, but the “Hey, there may be a few soggy canapés left on a tray over in the corner” kind of late. Truth be told, if it wasn’t for hope (and a hell of a lot of doctors), I wouldn’t be spending my evenings breathing in the intoxicating scent of my daughter as we rock to sleep.
So, I’m a big fan of hope. It can be raised up, floated, or have wings. It can sometimes be dashed. But you, Moira, showed me that it’s a tangible thing and that I’ll be able to touch it one day soon.
I’ve said before that I’m not holding my breath for a Type 1 diabetes cure. (Blue, while being a big awareness color for diabetes, is not a particularly beautiful skin shade.) An artificial pancreas is not a panacea, but right now, I’m like that girl you see in old footage of The Beatles who passes out when the first strains of Love Me Do waft into her ears. I am swooning on shaky legs.
I want to thank you for this:
All these years of walk teams and gala donations and scraping together what we can for friend’s efforts and asking my friends over and over to give and give more?
It’s not just pie in the sky. On Wednesday, I looked at what those donations have done for Lauren and the world. It’s real. The hope is real. I freaking held hope in the palm of my hand.
All those walk teams? Those donations? What you held in your hand?
You, and all those moms and dads who watch over us?
You never gave up.
You never gave up hope.
And because of that, we’ll all be able to hold it in our hands soon.