My brother and sister-in-law are expecting a baby in August. They found out on Monday it’s a girl. I’m excited, I really am, but my excitement is so much different than everyone else’s.
I can’t help but add “hopefully” to every statement.
Hopefully in August she’s come home. Hopefully, when I go down for my older brother’s wedding in September, I’ll get to meet her. Hopefully. Hopefully. Hopefully.
I hate it. I really do. I wish I could just be happily expectant like everyone else. I wish I didn’t have that “but maybe not” always lingering in the back of my mind. I would be beyond devastated if something happened to Izzy. I wish and hope and pray that everything ends the way it’s supposed to. But…I can’t expect it to anymore.
I know what you mean, Brittanie. As Nat’s baby girl gets closer to her due date, I keep wanting to make plans - plans to go visit, plans to buy this and do that - but in the back of my mind there’s that lingering “hopefully” as well. Every time I think it, I HATE it, but I can’t stop it.