Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Standing between hopelessness and hope

Today I find myself searching for hope ... I have looked for hope in the statistics, but to me statistics are meaningless. I have looked for hope from my doctors, but they can't make any promises. I have looked for hope in other's stories of success in a subsequent pregnancy, but I know that everyone is different. I have looked for hope everywhere and can't seem to find it. Hope seems to have vanished from my life the day Myles died. Does anyone know where to find hope now?

I think over the past 3 years I've used up all of my hope and have ever so slowly had my optimism whittled away. The before Myles self was eternally optimistic despite the long, devastating battle with infertilty and recurrent miscarriages. When I was kicked down time and time again I would pick myself back up by reminding myself that all of the struggles would one day be worth it--one day I would hold my baby in my arms!

When I held Myles for the very first time my predictions were verified ... I held him and experienced the utmost gratitude and an overwhelming sense of appreciation for my struggles--if not for my infertility and if not for my miscarriages and if not for IVF I might not have been given my beautiful, amazing son! Myles was that long-awaited gift that made our struggles worth it!

I sit here and wonder how on Earth I can dredge up hope like that now?! I know that I will never feel grateful or appreciative of Myles' death (despite what a select few have told me)! At times I feel hopeless, but periodically have fleeting moments when thinking of Myles that I have a renewed sense of hope. But, then reality slaps me in the face and hope vanishes just as quickly as it came back! I find myelf standing at the interface between hopelessness and hope and have to tell you that it's a strange, unfamiliar place. So, tell me where do you find hope?


Heather said...

Hi Niki,

Hope is very elusive. Sometimes I feel like I can manage and am hopeful, sometimes not. There are times I can look ahead to the future and imagine my husband and I with a baby or two and think, just for a second, how wonderful that will be. I don't let myself go there for too long because, like you, we have no guarantees that will ever be a reality for us. Those thoughts crash me back down.

I find my hope in the past, rather than the scary and formidable future. A year ago this week we were getting ready for our wedding. I was so happy. There are so many pictures from that time, and I have a sparkle and glow that has since been lost. At that point I had no idea of the horrors that would come this year. In some ways I want to go back and slap that silly girl, shake her and wipe away the smile. But I'm glad I have those memories of being that happy, of thinking the world, at that moment, was perfect.

I know I'll never have that secure sense again; that naive girl is gone. But it does give me hope that maybe, just maybe, baby or no baby, that sparkle will come back.

Hope that makes sense. (((Hugs)))

A.M.S. said...

I don't know where we find hope. I've been wondering that quite a bit myself these days. I think, for me, I have to just keep telling myself that it can work, that we will someday come home from the hospital with our baby. If I tell myself that often enough, eventually I'll believe it.

The NICU nurse who got me through the day Zoe died told me when things get their absolute darkest, when I feel like I'm fighting to breathe, that I needed to pick one moment when I was walking on air and hold on to it tight. That if I could focus on every detail of that moment when it felt like nothing could go wrong, when it was all perfect and golden, then I could find my way out of the darkness. I don't know if that is a substitute for hope. I'm not sure if I really know what hope is anymore. But I know that I want to feel that walking on air feeling again. I realize that the next time, there will be a lot of fear and worry, but I'm going to do my best to find those golden moments as well.

I wish you nothing but golden moments.

Allison Our Own Creation (because my blogger log-in goes to my old blog)

travelaunt7 said...


I have a saying on my door that "Hope is the feeling that the feeling you have isn't permanent."

I can understand your hesitation to hope again because it seems like we constantly get knocked down in the world of infertility. But at the same time, hope is all we can do.

I wish you the best on your FET tomorrow and always.


Rebecca said...

Sweetie, my heart just aches for you. I too struggle with where to find hope…it’s not like the picture from my Minnesota trip, a road sign pointing it out for you, telling you where to go…(my sorry attempt at humor, I know). I don’t believe I would ever feel grateful or appreciative of a child’s death either…please don’t listen to what those people have said. I know you’re grateful and appreciative of MYLES…what he taught you, what you experienced with him…but the loss of a child is not something one can ever learn to appreciate. That’s the worst tragedy in the world. Honestly…one of the things that struck me in your post is when you said “where do I find hope like that now”. Truth be told, I don’t know if you’re ever going to find the hope you had when holding Myles. Before you get upset, let me explain myself. I’ve learned that all hope is different. You will never have the “same” degree or feeling of hope as when you held your son…because he and your experiences with him were a once in a lifetime experience. That hope belongs to and with your memories of Myles. Your hopes and dreams that you had for Myles are in a place that are sacred…but sadly not of this world. Not to say that you will never have hope again, but it stands to reason that since you’re not able to hold your sweet boy (and God knows I wish that were not the case, with my whole being), that particular feeling of hope is not available to you. That was the hope that Myles brought to you. It’s still there, but it belongs to Myles. It belongs to the part of your heart and soul that will always be Myles’ mommy. What you’re looking for is hope for your future child. Somewhere within yourself, within the beautiful, courageous, fighting spirit that is Niki…you hold that hope. I know you do. I wish with all my heart you can find it. And when you feel like you can’t find that hope anywhere…you know I’m down here hoping for you. I hope this made sense…and didn’t upset you. You know I love you…I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow during your FET and always. (((HUGS)))