My husband wants to help fix the pain. He thinks getting a vasectomy will make the hope go away. It won’t.

Hope is such a tricky thing. Hope has played a significant role in my life. My father was a heavy drinker. I always hoped he would stop. He miraculously did several years ago. I always hoped people would read and enjoy my writing, and that’s coming true.

My rational and emotional minds understand we are no longer actively trying to have another baby. But my husband is right; I’m hoping some major miracle may happen this summer. I can’t turn it off. I wish I knew how.

I started sifting through my daughter’s infant clothes. My intention was to wash them and find a charity in Joplin, Missouri to send them to. I wanted to help anyone who lost everything and needed baby clothes. This distinct belief lasted until I took her clothes from the dryer and began folding them. I wasn’t ready to let go of her tiny onesies, cute little dresses and footie pajamas. Instead I put them in a Space Bag and laid them on top of her other baby clothes I have stored. I wish I could let them go, maybe next week. Maybe one day soon.

What does hope look like for you?



3 thoughts on “Hope

Add yours

  1. ((HUGE HUGS))

    What a difficult time for you, and it is so, so hard to pack away the tiny clothes. Hope is such a funny thing, though as we know all too well, it usually comes back to bite me 😦

    Visiting from ICLW

  2. Hope has been a theme for me this year. I’m trying to hang on to hope that we will someday have our miracle. I’m so glad that you have yours!

    I think hope comes in so many ways. Mostly from the support from others who have battled infertility and won!

    Wishing you find your hope soon!

    Happy ICLW

  3. Wow. Here I was, researching your links to send you an editorial travel resource and BAM!

    I sit here juxtaposed against your emotions with a 16-year-old from a previous marriage, a 6-year-old who is the result of two tormented years of heartbreak and despair where we were about to give up hope, and a 4-year-old who surprised us. I also have a niece and nephew — young teens — visiting. The older boy barely survived a life-threatening disease at birth. He has one kidney now but is a top ranked wrestler. His sister was an “oops” but is the spitting image of her grandmother — the only child to so closely resemble her — and has a gleam in her eye that can only be trouble.

    And…all I can think is, “These kids are going to drive me to drink!” (more.) Your post took me back to those two years of weekly battle, straining our marriage like nothing else could. But when she came, beautiful and perfect from a turkey baster, we relaxed. From that point on, we didn’t plan; didn’t focus; didn’t think about what we didn’t have, because we DID have. Sex is great when it doesn’t have a purpose. We had forgotten that. And, then — ironically on a night in Arkansas when a family gathering was stricken with communal food poisoning — No. 2 was conceived (er, before the symptoms kicked in). To this day we have no idea how the necessary union of swimmer and egg occurred considering the violence of my wife’s reaction to the food poisoning. But it did. When we least expected it.

    And then, down the road, we started thinking about it again. But this time we were obsessed with NOT having another one. It took the fun out of sex again and there was too much focus on the opposite objective. So I got snipped. And now we are blissfully oblivious to the “function” of sex. We are happy. And very lucky.

    The odds of conception should be staggering, considering all that can go wrong. But it happens more times than not because the body is a miracle we truly cannot begin to comprehend. Life is relentless, stubborn and downright inconsiderate but I never bet against it.

    Enjoy your luck. It is beautiful.

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