When Hope Still Hurts
My period is late – way late! And just to add context, I am also pre-menopausal. Aaron and I are in the process of adoption. We have accepted our fertility challenges and feel called to grow our family in a way we hadn’t ever imagined for ourselves. My forty-something friend is 12 weeks pregnant!
Okay, confession time.
Back to my period…I am late, like weeks late. My body has felt like I should be bleeding but nothing happens. With this context and all the various factors swirling around, I started wondering (hoping, really) that I was pregnant!
I recognized that little flitter inside my stomach. The one that you get when you start getting excited about something. Or when you are so so happy that there is a physical buzz along your skin’s edge. I squelched it at first and laughed at the absurdity. Then I got serious and told myself that this is impossible. We have moved on. (And with Aaron working in Wisconsin, sex is far less frequent!) Yet hope did not go away.
The blessings of launching two businesses came at the right time – it must be a sign!
It has actually been growing. I began imagining… My friend and I can be pregnant “old ladies” together! We can still adopt! It will be like having twins! I can do that! This time, I’ll get to be pregnant near family and friends! My blog will get new material! The blessings of launching two businesses came at the right time – it must be a sign!
I spoke this hope out loud, sharing it with my husband. “What would you say if I was pregnant,” I’d ask with a twinkle in my eye. I even told 2 friends that I would take a home pregnancy test on Friday (over 2 weeks late) and let them know the results. One friend questioned how I could be so disciplined and wait so long to take the test. Because of the potential, the possiblity: this hope is feeding my love bucket!
Fast forward to Friday…today…
The crazy cat woke me up at 5:30 so I decided early is as good a time as any to find out if the hope would materialize into being. I have truly enjoyed the idea of being pregnant. I have actually relished the possibility, most especially because it’s a long shot! I have done long shots before!!!
After putting the pink cap on the test stick, I walked away. 2 minutes…
Negative.
My hope, the one I wasn’t going to have anymore (at least not about having another biological child), was thwarted – by my age and my ovaries.
I am so sad. My hope, the one I wasn’t going to have anymore (at least not about having another biological child), was thwarted – by my age and my ovaries. I wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep off the bad news. Instead, I text my husband a picture of the test strip, told him I loved him and that I was a little sad. I went through my morning routine and eventually woke my daughter up to smiles and hugs! She won’t know, and her hope for a baby brother or sister is still in tact.
Mine is not. Or is it? Our family will grow in number. We will adopt. I will have another son or daughter. I am still hopeful about growing our family.
I am not hopeful that my uterus will ever house another living being. My grief from fertility loss is still real. It might even be like this for another couple of years as my pre-menopause evolves into menopause.
I’ll give myself permission to grieve.
Today, I make a space my loss. I’ll give myself permission to grieve. I will also celebrate my husband and daughter. I will celebrate the opportunity to adopt. I will give thanks for hope. It will need to continue shifting, so I will say a prayer of gratitude. Even so, it is well.
May you, too, revel in the power of hope, even when it causes some hurts. May God bless the hurt and turn you to hope. It is never just one or the other. Lean into both and say “Amen”.
