Skip to main content

My Hopes

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve felt like I’m walking around with a backpack full of weights. Literally. I fall asleep on the couch every evening, I am constantly worrying, and I just feel defeated. But I’m working on changing that. I’m trying my hardest to pull myself out of it… to put on my “big girl” panties and deal with it. I know I can. I know I need to remain positive.

I sat down to make a list of my worries. But instead, I’m choosing to make a list of my hopes. After all, “worrying is stupid. It’s like walking around with an umbrella waiting for it to rain.” (Wiz Khalifa)

I hope that my husband, Reid, gets a liver soon. And recovers well from the liver transplant. I hope that his health significantly improves from a liver transplant, and his PSC does not come back.

I hope that I never have to utter the words “Reid has cancer” to anyone. Ever. I hope that he is that 10%... I mean, we do seem to hit the small odds.

I hope that Reid and I are able to have two babies. I hope that we are able to raise them together, and we will both see them grow old and have babies of their own.

I hope that by sharing our infertility journey, we have helped others to not feel so alone through their own journey.

I hope that our friends and family understand how much we truly, deeply, appreciate their support. We wouldn’t be standing without all of them.

I hope that our babies are never forgotten. I loved each of them so much, even though I never got to meet them.

I hope that my husband never gives up on me. I hope that he keeps pushing me to be positive, but allowing me to feel sorry for myself when I need just that.

I hope that people don’t start thinking I’m a Debbie Downer, always having bad news to share.

I hope that our friends and family are always there to support us along this journey.

I hope that I don’t miss out on all of the important parts of other people’s lives because I’m so consumed by my own.

I hope that my sister never has to feel the pain that I have.

I hope that if we end up going through IVF (which is the plan), I don’t turn into a total crazy person. High doses of hormones pumped into my body? It’s quite possible I lose my mind.

I hope that the conversation around infertility continues to change, and that others feel more comfortable talking about it. It is a disease. And those going through it need the help of others.

I hope that I never lose touch with our infertility support group, and that each couple in the group ends up being a “success story”.

I hope that we start to receive some good news, sooner rather than later.

I hope that most days I am able to focus on the positive, and start to see the light at the end of the tunnel. I hope that I can chose faith over worry.

I am choosing to have faith, I am choosing to hope for the best, not expect the worst. I will have days where I struggle with that, for sure. Even as I type this I have my doubts that I can fulfill this promise, but I’m putting it out there so others can hold me accountable. I will still need those days where I just have a pity party for myself – but I cannot get stuck there. Things will get better. We will receive good news. I am determined to have good news to share and I know we will all celebrate that good news with more joy that I can even imagine. I so look forward to those days. For now, I’m holding on to hope.

Hope means that we must trust and wait for what is still unseen - Romans 8:24


  1. This reminds me of the song "I have this hope" by Tenth Avenue North. It has meant a lot to me this year and I HOPE it will bring you the same. :)


Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

The Story of our First Potential Living Donor

I am so excited to share the story of our first potential living donor with you. The conversations with this guy, and the selflessness of his offer, have touched our hearts in so many ways.
In January of this year, I woke up to a Facebook message from a high school friend, Desmond Parker. And I laid in bed crying as I read it. He couldn’t sleep the night before and decided to re-activate his Facebook account. The first thing he saw in his timeline was a blog post that I’d written with an update on Reid’s health. And something in him said “I need to help”. He spent the next hour or so researching living donor transplants before messaging me, and he “couldn’t find a reason why NOT to do it.” His message said that he wanted to be tested to see if he was a match for my husband.
Y’all, I hadn’t talked to this guy in several years. He had never met my husband. He felt no obligation to us other than we had a need, and he wanted to help (cue the tears). Dez checked all of the boxes on pape…

Our Current Situation

It’s been quite a while since I’ve given a general update on us. If you’ve been following our Facebook or Instagram pages, then you know that our final embryo transfer took and we are pregnant with twins! We are thrilled, and so far everything has looked great as we are a little over 17 weeks today.
While we are so grateful for the two miracles growing inside of me, I would be lying if I said we don’t have some added stress. And I’m not just talking about the regular stress of having a baby, or the extra stress of having two at once. There’s always this looming question of “what will happen with Reid’s health?” Over the last several weeks that stress has intensified as we get closer to “crunch time”.
Last week we went to Reid’s 3-month check in with the Houston transplant team. As I sat in the waiting room and took my typical picture of my “expect miracles” shirt, I saw my bump. And the reality hit me even harder, that we are bringing twins into this world and my husband is still fi…

Cholangiocarcinoma and the Fight for a Liver

2:00 in the morning, and I’m wide awake. Let me tell you something about myself… I very very rarely have issues sleeping. Like I can count on one hand the times that I haven’t been able to sleep through the night. I’m that person that will wake up, roll over, and go straight back to sleep. But tonight I’m wide awake.
Today was a rough day.
Hell, the last two weeks have been rough.
My husband is believed to have cancer. In the bile ducts. Which is the thing that we’ve feared the most over the last four years. And the worst part? They can’t even prove it with biopsies, because it’s that far into his bile ducts, and that hard to detect. Our saving grace was always, “if he gets cancer, as long as we catch it in time, we’ll be able to automatically get exception points on the transplant list, and that will move him up the list quickly.”
But we can’t even do that. I feel stuck. And afraid.
Two weeks ago, Reid had a Spyglass (ERCP) procedure because his Houston transplant team noticed …