ninety-nine percent

This morning we drove to Vancouver for our first meeting with the genetics team since Luka died.  It was a beautiful clear morning, and the moon was still in the sky as we drove down the mountain.  It felt like Saskatchewan, dry and cold. There was a massive wind storm last night and there were remnants of fallen trees everywhere.  But today was calm and sunny.  A perfect way to start our journey into Vancouver.  It was a quiet and reflective drive.  Remembering Luka, and thinking about the future. When we arrived at the hospital, I wasn't expecting the emotion to hit me so hard.  As soon as we stepped through the doors, the smell and the emotions of four months ago overwhelmed me, and I immediately began to cry.  We walked the same hall that took us to the cafeteria, where we ate our last meal before we took Luka off her life support.  We walked by the little park where I stood outside and asked the universe to take Luka into the wind and the trees.  So before we even entered the elevator to the genetics floor,  I felt like I was back in July.  I pulled myself together, and while we waited to see the counselors,  Michael and I sat quietly, holding hands, anticipating what the next hour would hold.  The counselors were wonderful, a young doctor in her last year of residency, and an experienced doctor who has been with the genetics team for thirty years.  The young doctor had met Luka, and had examined her in July.  We talked for two hours, about Luka, the future and chances of having a healthy child.  They showed us pictures of chromosomes, told us about all the genetic testing that is possible in our next pregnancy, and gave us statistics.  As I listened them to speak,  I realized how lucky we are to have this kind of care, and the wonderful care Luka had in her short life.  I now know that our chances of having a recurrence is only one percent. This may seem high, but the doctor said to look at it as a ninety nine percent chance of it not reoccurring. We are at a very low risk of having another Trisomy 18 baby.  They wanted us to walk away today with hope, and lots of it.  After leaving the hospital, we went for lunch and then Michael went and bought a new winter jacket.  On the drive home, I fell asleep thinking of Luka and her last moments.  Once home, we went for a walk as the sun was setting, with Sassy, the neighbour's dog.  It was cold, but it was great to get some fresh air and watch Sassy chase sticks in the snow.  I thought about hope, and ninety-nine percent.  It's so hard not to think about the one percent.  Just the thought of it happening again scares me to death.  But the thought of the opposite, makes my heart soar, and my soul cry with happiness.  And so I hope.  With one hundred percent of my being, I hope.