Hope

I remember when I was pregnant with Ethan and I would secretly "hope" that they were all wrong.  Even when I was laying in the hospital bed about to deliver him, scared, trembling, crying and holding my Mom's hand like a little girl who had fallen down I still had "hope".  I don't think that is ever going to go away.  Since we received the call and Dr. T told us she suspected Mitochondrial Disease I still had "hope".  Yesterday I got a copy of the lab results and the numbers are in bold black screaming out from the paper....

Lactate - 2.8 HIGH (range is .05-2.2)

Pyruvic Acid - 1.2 HIGH (range is .3-.7)

And yet I still "hope".  I "hope" that we overcome this, I "hope" they find a cure, I "hope" that the Lactic Acid that is circultating his sweet little body doesn't overcome his brain and he stops waving to me or kissing me.  Oh, how I "hope".  It's all a different kind of "hope" now.  Not the "hope" for a normal kid kind of "hope" but the "hope" for a kid who is comfortable, knows he is loved and knows his Mama did everything she could to give him "hope"....

But now, Lord, what do I look for? My hope is in you