Hope

On the Saturday morning before the baby left us, we were incredibly productive. We paid off a student loan, we bought a new desktop to help alleviate some technical headaches we were having, Ben was able to convince Dell to replace our laptop battery even though it was a few days out from its warranty. And after all this Ben said, "Well, I'm going to go get a phone number and see about this fence."

Three years ago today, I called the Cedar Rapids Humane Society and confirmed that yes, we would like to adopt that chocolate lab we had visited with the day before. That's the day, "Well, we'll eventually get a fence" entered our vocabulary. For one reason or another, however, we kept putting it off. In the meantime, Sully continually displayed his ability to explore the neighborhood at a frightening pace. He has toured unfinished homes, eaten out of our neighbor's trash, chased rabbits, ran across the frozen pond in a middle of a snow storm, interrupted football tailgates, and gotten far too close to the interstate for my comfort. It was in July, when we were thinking about starting our family, that it suddenly dawned on Sully that he could go swimming in the pond across the street. That's when I sat Ben down and said, "We need a fence."

And as soon as we saw that positive pregnancy test, we finally made the call. We knew I couldn't be chasing him around nine months from now. We also knew I'd be pregnant in the winter, and my ungraceful self couldn't be walking him everyday when our neighborhood resembled an ice rink.

Ben made that call on Saturday morning; Saturday evening I started to miscarry the baby.

On Monday, Ben called me from work and said, "The fence guy called back; he can come out tomorrow. Would you be around?" It was everything I could do not to melt into a puddle. I wanted to say, "We don't need a fence now." But from somewhere inside, I was able to say, "Sure. Sounds good."

The quote was better than we expected, and so we did it. As of today, we now have a fenced in backyard. Sully has been outside, enjoying this early fall day, for the past hour and fifteen minutes.

I know it sounds a little ridiculous to imagine this fence as an act of tremendous hope, but that's what it is. It feels like a very public expression of our belief in our family. We will need that fence one day. To be honest, our first baby has needed it for a long time now, and it feels so good to bring him joy after such a tumultuous week.

The phone company came out to mark the lines last week, so Ben went over to tell our neighbor what was going on. Our neighbor, who is a landscaper, said, "Well, it would be a good time to plant a tree." Ben said we had often thought of planting a tree, but it was another one of those things on the perpetual to-do list. Our neighbor said, "Let me see what I can do." When we got home from Minnesota on Monday, there was a red maple sitting in our driveway. And for a case of Busch Light, our neighbor gave Ben some planting tips as well.

Joanne had told me that some friends who had a miscarriage planted a tree to commemorate the life. I thought this was a wonderful idea, but I was afraid to plant such a tree at this house; I feared I would never be able to leave that tree. But, like the fence, there was really no choice. The tree came to us. And as I work in the bedroom, I can see this beautiful, fledgling tree from my window. I gives me such peace. I've Googled images of red maples, and I've seen how gorgeous this tree will be. It will bring lots of joy, both to us and the family who lives here after us.

Yes, someday I will have to leave it, but we can plant another tree. And oddly, I'm finding comfort in the fact that we are leaving something from this past week at this house. Parents dream not just about the joy their children will bring them but also about the joy their children will give to others. You have children to send them out into the world and make a difference. Our baby wasn't with us long enough to make an impression on anyone else. But through this tree, in some small way, our baby will have a lasting impact on others - others who live in this house, who visit this house, who live in and visit our neighborhood, and who attend the church and day care behind us. That's a lot of joy, and it gives me a lot of hope.