I was deeply saddened to hear the news of Tim Russert’s passing. I was at work and was looking for something on Yahoo when I saw the news. It isn’t just pregnancy induced emotion (I reserve that for game shows and meaningful commercials), but genuine sorrow for the loss of such a great reporter and writer. While I have respect for his work, I also feel a personal connection because he is part of one of my clearest memories from adulthood.
In November of 2000, two of my brothers, Ray and I all traveled together to our grandmother’s funeral. It was an 18 hour drive to and from the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania over the few days surrounding the presidential election that year. I’ll remember the trip for why we were there, but I also remember it for the absolute knowledge that we were witnessing history. I remember the seemingly endless search for beer and pizza to take back to the hotel. I had no idea that the laws regulating the sale of booze were so restrictive in PA…but we became REALLY aware that night. I remember gas station bathrooms that were hover only. I remember being encouraged to nap rather than drive (thanks guys 
). And then I remember staying up almost all night to watch the election coverage.
In our hotel room, Ray and I settled on NBC to watch Tim scribble projections and scenarios on a dry erase board with a red marker. We were transfixed by the low tech, straightforward approach to dealing with the uncharted waters of this crazy election. We’d occasionally flip to other channels to see what kind of tools they were using, but we would return to the purity and simplicity of good, solid analysis as opposed to hyperbole and conjecture. On Wednesday morning, both NPR and Rush found a few seconds to talk about how the networks had handled the curveball. The tone when they spoke about Russert’s approach can best be described as amused incredulity.
I made it through work Friday. Yay me. The antibiotics may be doing something to help me, but the effect is negligible at this point. If I could sleep more I would, but that whole breathing/swallowing thing isn’t working so well. Baby seems to be dozy this evening. Until I started listening to music. Then he perked up. I’ve decided he looks like me in the sonogram picture…at least I think he’s got my nose and cheeks…but it won’t be long before we find out.
It’s 3 1/2 weeks until we reach the biggest milestone to date. Potential viability happens around 24 weeks. I knock on wood when I even think of it. On the road to get here, we learned some of the contents of “The Big Book of Everything That Can Go Wrong.” We picked up details on a few chapters, and then just headings and keywords for other sections. The problem with the book is that it becomes permanently imbeded in the back of your brain. It never goes away. The assumption that bad things happen to other people is sent out to Los Alamos to be blasted into oblivion. Bad things happen. Sometimes to you. Sometimes to people you love. Sometimes to complete strangers who have been where you’ve been. Everyone has shit in their lives. No one gets out unscathed.
This knowledge of the bad stuff doesn’t mean you necessarily live in fear. You still find just enough hope to move forward, even on the bleakest of days. You find ways to turn down the volume on the “what ifs” playing on a continuous loop in your mind and just go. But what it does mean is that there is a little part of your breath that is always held, even when the sea is calm and the shore is near. 24 weeks fast approaches and will take forever to get here.
