I am almost hesitant to even mention this year. It is still tender all these years later. Early in the summer of 1999, we discovered we were pregnant and were over-the-moon excited, along with our families and friends. Then, a few days before school started in August, I left a volleyball practice bleeding. The emergency room confirmed our worst fears and we lost the baby at 14 weeks, just when we thought we could exhale. I missed the first couple days of school. The second month of school, one of my sophomores asked if she could talk to me after class before lunch, and she told me she was three months pregnant. She was concerned that her growing belly would upset me. We both collapsed on my couch and cried all through lunch.
By Christmas though, against all hope, we were pregnant again and braced ourselves. Month after month, we tentatively began to get excited to be parents. Each month, we waited with held-breath to hear the heartbeat that belonged to our first-born, Ransom, who would be born the following summer.
Christmas was a grieving time, but full of hope too.