It's been a while since I've committed the time to put my thoughts to words in this designated space, but not for lack of things to share. On the contrary, like my thoughts life has been a progressively more intense torrent of work, moving, settling in to a new home, figuring out our new life here, fixing things in the house, preparing for Christmas, recovering from Christmas.... Oh and all of the treatment I've been doing in my seemingly more and more futile attempts at conceiving- driving 1.5 hrs to see the doctor, monthly ultrasounds, blood draws, injections. So many, many things to think about. So much to reflect upon, but more often than not no grounding in that reflection. My thoughts shoot around like the flares of a sparkler on the 4th of July- propelled by a flurry of emotion. I reflect on myself, my relationship with God, the hopes and dreams I had that seem so out of reach, whether I have any hopes and dreams for the future, whether investing energy in future hopes and dreams is worth it. I've come to recognize that HOPE. IS. EVERYTHING. Anything is tolerable with even the smallest bit of hope. But without it, disappointments and failures are magnified into disasters that paralyze me and trigger days of unshakable melancholy.
Of course, the majority of my disappointments stem from being infertile. You'd think the sting of not being pregnant month after month would have softened by now. But as hope dwindles, disappointment fills the void it leaves behind until disappointment is the lens through which every experience in your life, I mean EVERY experience, is filtered. With each passing month, hope's ability to drive my purpose has faded until I now persist in treatments because I feel I owe it to myself and what I've gone through to keep going. [two surgeries, two long recoveries and still recovering, countless appointments of poking and prodding so that I have no dignity or modesty left, uprooting my life and moving home in an attempt to reduce stress, keeping a crazy vegan-kosher-lactose intolerant-celiac-diabetic diet, thousands of dollars spent, and the elimination of every beauty product I've ever loved from my life:] It would be an insult to just stop my journey now. What would all that have been for? That is why I continue. Not because I maintain a strong sense of hope. My hope has become like a fragile flower struggling to survive against a merciless terrain.
I often feel isolated from all my TTC sisters. As someone for whom IVF is not an option, I can't find complete solidarity with women going through that treatment; I can bond with them over our shared frustration, and rejoice when the desire of their hearts is fulfilled. Yet I can't find hope in reading their testimonials, knowing I cannot walk down that path. Many of the Catholic women I know appear to be handling their infertility with more grace than I could ever dream to find. I don't relate well with women whose perpetual mantra is, "God's will, not mine." I'm just not there in my relationship with God right now. It is fractured and something I am cogniscient of constantly working on, but as someone who, worse than feeling forgotten by God, feels completely ignored, I don't find myself bearing this burden with grace and gratitude like my admirable Catholic sisters. In that sense I feel like an even deeper failure than what my physical state has imposed on me.
When you feel alone, it is very difficult to hope. And let me iterate it is entirely unproductive and pointless to say to someone in despair, "Don't lose hope!" I've heard this countless times. And I think, "Why not? What has hope done for me so far? It has made some aspects of daily life more tolerable, but so would the relief of finally giving up." Telling me, "Don't lose hope!" is as effective as saying, "Stop breathing!" Since I'm not ready to give up yet, however, hope seems the only thing with the potential to lift the dark cloud that's surrounded my heart and soul. But I don't see hope as a voluntary action, like patience or temperance would be. For me hope is a reflexive, visceral emotion that either exists or does not. Certain things stir hope within me despite the voice in my head which says, "There's no point." I can feel it when it's there and suffer terribly in its absence. How to find that hope though?
Hope is the answer, I know it is! So rather than attempting to convince someone to hope when that flame has turned to ash, let us say to each other, "Don't give up, friend. Find things that may renew your hope. They are somewhere, don't give up. When your hope is renewed you will feel joy again. Don't give up." Telling someone to not give up validates the difficulty of the journey and encourages fortitude. So I am focusing on things that will renew my hope. Talking to women who were told they'd never conceive who are now expecting or are now mothers (without IVF!) is a great source of hope for me. And when I hear them, I feel the spark of hope igniting deep within me, and then life suddenly becomes more tolerable. And I feel more strength in continuing my treatments. And so I continue sharing my thoughts and HOPE that someday I will have a success story that will be that light through the dark cloud of someone else's journey. <3
No comments:
Post a Comment