I'd wanted to go to the spa, where I could get some much needed pampering, and lie in the sunshine next to the pool. They are two really great girls, always happy to go with the flow, very supportive, and always a good time. Getting them motivated to get out of the house and focus on an outcome can be a challenge though. We'd talked last night about spending the day at the spa, and again this morning confirmed our plans. I got dressed up and packed my bag this morning. I really could use a good massage and envisioned the day wearing a plush robe with cozy slippers curled on a lounge next to a firepit.
By the time we got out of the house it was much later in the afternoon than I'd expected, and not really worth the money anymore to head to the spa. The treatments are expensive, but worth it if you can make a day of it and enjoy the facilities. So instead, we drove around for a while, searching for some sunshine, and ended up crashing a garden party at a fancy hotel.
We had a conversation about hope, that started when one friend recited an Emily Dickinson poem:
"Hope" is the thing with feathers—
That perches in the soul—
And sings the tune without the words—
And never stops—at all—
And sweetest—in the Gale—is heard—
And sore must be the storm—
That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—
I've heard it in the chillest land—
And on the strangest Sea—
Yet, never, in Extremity,
It asked a crumb—of Me.
I'm not going to be able to re-create the conversation, but it was striking. Like a snap-shot that perfectly captured why it I feel so alone sometimes.
They started talking about how great it is that hope is ever-present, that bird in our soul that never stops singing. I disagreed, saying that hope is delicate and fragile and requires constant attention. The hope that I know takes so much energy to cultivate.
We talked about despair, the opposite of hope. They felt that it was despair that required the emotional energy.
Starting this blog was a manifestation of hope that had been so elusive for me. Being able to envision my "Someday", one that included a family, took me a long time. For nearly a year after our diagnosis I felt no hope. There was no bird. The song had stopped.
Finding hope for our future again has taken a lot of work on my part. Kind of like a garden that I have to plan and tend to, that takes time to grow, and needs the right nutrients and water and sunshine. I've worked so hard to regain a sense of hope and nurture it. Whereas despair takes energy, I have to give huge amounts of energy to maintain hope.
I don't know if they understood what I tried to explain. It was actually a depressing conversation. I hadn't realized how depressing I might sound to the people around me. But this is how I feel.
Wikipedia defines hope as a belief in a positive outcome related to events and circumstances in one's life. Hope is the feeling that what is wanted can be had or that events will turn out for the best.
I want so much to believe that our circumstances will turn out for the best, and intend to keep nurturing that idea.
How do you maintain and nurture hope on this journey?
7 comments :
I think the poem speaks to both situations - those that hope effortlessly, and those who must cultivate it. The second stanza says "And sore must be the storm—That could abash the little Bird
That kept so many warm—" It takes a pretty strong storm to knock that bird off his perch, and I'd say that azoospermia counts as a hurricane. Of course it's harder for you to keep hope than it is for your friends - your bird's been knocked down. It takes time to pick him up again.
As for me, I've amazed myself with my own ability to hope even after I know mentally that there is no reason to. My last natural cycle before starting IVF, I knew there was no possible way I could be pregnant. So when my breasts got sore, I got tired, and started peeing all the time, I was surprised to hear a little voice inside say "Maybe one got through!" I had to talk myself out of hope.
Now I'm sitting here during my 2ww, trying to ignore that little bird's song. I feel like if I listen to him too much, I will finally learn not to believe him if this turns out negative. I guess I'm trying to protect him from falling off his perch. Who knows how long it will take to get him back again?
I don't know, if you find out, can you let me know...?
ICLW
#56 Miss Ruby
http://www.themissruby.blogspot.com/
Hope is tough. For me, it comes and goes. Some days I feel like I have a lot of hope. Other days, I don't feel like I have any at all. I think it depends on what's going on around me. If I can manage to stay busy and keep going, I feel like the hope still hangs around. But the more that I sit around and think about things, the more hopeless I feel. Does that make sense?
Hope is so hard, because you can fall so far when let down. I don't know how to balance hope and low expectations to protect yourself. I find myself pendulating between the two.
It is hard to relate hope (or lack there of) to people who haven't been knocked down by something like azoo.
Hey sweetie :) Before I reply to this post, no, I didn't see the Musings thing (I try to get over there, but I'm barely keeping up as it is with everyone). Yes, the C+B meditations were fantastic! Though I ended up getting so relaxed I would fall asleep before the meditation was over. And there was something else but I don't remember. LOL.
This post, about hope...it's so pertinent. I don't know how to hold onto HOPE. Honestly, I think other people did it for me when I couldn't. The days when I couldn't believe...they believed. (I got a lot of "I told you so") Because it's hard to have it every day. I am honestly amazed at having that sort of conversation with friends...it just doesn't happen in my world, not really.
big HUGS sweetie, and know that we are here.
For me, hope is the epitomy of believing without seeing. We must have hope in the IF world: hope that there will be a sweet ending to this bitter predicament. Perhaps it will not be the ending that we chose, but a better, more perfect ending that we can't see now, but it's in our future. We must gather our hope from God, from family and friends, and from the depths of ourselves. It is always within our grasps, we just need to reach out for it. Happy hoping!
Hi lovely!
Thanks for your musings on hope. I feel like I've had a funny relationship with hope ever since I read Pema Chodron's book 'When Things Fall Apart'. I recommend it, if you ever want a book of raw truth about existence, written with tons of compassion. In the book, Chodron advocates against hope. I know that's funny to think about. Hope is really a beautiful human capacity when you think about it in the way we've been educated to think about it. But what she says is that hope provides an escape from the present moment and the reality that is in front of us right now, from the reality of our true nature. She says that making friends with our self RIGHT NOW, is more important than to try and relate to a future self, future experience, imagined truth that isn't real yet.
Wow, that's pretty harsh when it comes to IF, isn't it? But reading her book really changed my relationship to hope in that I don't grasp or cling to it as much as I used to. I still hold hope in my heart, but I don't make my life about it. I hope we have children, but I'm not sure that will happen and I try to stick with today.
Anyway, I can tell you more about it in an email if you'd like. Just a few unorthodox thoughts I wanted to throw in.
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