A glimmer of a place called hope

First of all, yes I wish that my glimmer of a place called hope involved Bill Clinton. Why can't he be my president again? Seriously, the current state of affairs would make me weep if I wasn't so self-absorbed with the other kind of hope.

So, I really think I'll be pregnant soon. I haven't believed that in a long time -- but today, I found my self skipping through the door after work with plans to race to the computer to post about my glimmer of hope. Of course I forgot about the three holes bored into my belly and the skipping made me whimper, fall to the floor and drink wine. But still...

Hope is a feel good, flighty thing. I really see it, it could happen, I'll get to be momma. Maybe soon.

This giddy hopefulness scares the crap out of me and will cause me to publicly roll my eyes and pooh pooh any optimistic talk of hopefulness. But, inside, I'm skipping. And it feels really good until I land on the place where they cut holes in my belly or the holes still left in my heart.