Loss of Innocence with Hope

February 25, 2014

* just a reminder that March 15 we are asking that to honor Jude and Brinly, our recently stillborn twins, that you do a random act of kindness in their honor and post it here or email me (more info in the post before this).  I'm posting some images my sister made.

Obviously as the world goes on, my has yet to move forward.  I've been having some thoughts with my current HATE I super dislike you right now feelings toward "Hope" and wrote a poem:

 

Hope. 

How you have deceived me.

Why do you haunt me?

Why won’t you leave me alone?

Over the years  Hope has grown into a Villainess

That taunts me

And makes me think my dreams will come true

And makes me somehow believe that this isn’t the end

and that my wish will come true

That my prayers will be answered

She makes me think that somehow, someday, someway

Then Hope, that sneaky thing, hands me the very thing I was waiting for

On a platter

Wrapped in beautiful shining paper, with the most beautiful bows you have ever seen.

One bow is blue.

The other pink.

And they are alive.

I begin to embrace Hope as my best friend

She has finally allowed the horse to reach the carrot

She has finally allowed Leprechaun to reach the pot of gold.

She curls up by the fire with me and we relax for once together.

 

 

 For the first time in my life, I believe Hope.  I 100% trust her

instead of half trust her that this is real.

Before I know it the lights flash and my world has been shattered.

 

I search around blindly in the dark screaming for Her

Tears rush down my face faster than the fastest river and I call to Her

Despite the diagnosis I believe this can be turned around.

I try to grasp to Her as tightly as I can

But at the doctor looks into my eyes and says in the saddest tone I have ever heard

“Can I break your sac of water?”

Hope for the first time leaves me completely alone. 

As the waters pour out of my body, leading to the imminent death of my

Ever-so-longed-for-ever-so-prayed-for-ever-so-deeply-insanely-loved son,

His water’s puff out the last tiny glimmer Hope had left in that god-forsaken room.

In those horrific hours I was relieved that I had lost Her.  Finally I could move on.

 

 In the morning, the nurses brought my dead child, still warm from the strong heartbeat that had

Been beating through his veins but stopped to short by the impact of labor.

I stared at him speechless. 

My husband beside me.

The entire earth quiet as we looked down at what we had been allowed to create together.

And there She was. 

We did NOT invite Her in.

She came back without permission.

My tearstained husband said to me:

“He is so cute.  He would have been so cute.”

I always imagined Hope to be soft and gentle and sweet and subtle.

But that’s only when She is playing Nice.

In times like these She is violent.  She is loud.  She is aggressive and She grips with a strength that takes away your breath. 

Without warning, She grabbed my husband.  She dug Her fingernails deep into his skin. She sprang into his soul and possessed his mouth.  He said

“This makes me want it more.  We are so close.”

8 failied IUIS.  3 IVFs.  4 Dead babies and we are holding one that is just 21 days away from a place he could survive.  But we are holding him.

Before I could get in the defensive position and  block my own logical senses, before I could stop Her, Hope possessed my own soul as well.

Without warning that small flicker of a candle reappeared. 

In what cruel world does Hope enter the room as we hold our dead child?

In what cruel planet does something keep teasing you, and following you, and attacking you to keep on going when so many things have gone wrong?

She is heartless and stops at nothing.

They say Hope does not disappoint us but I have never experienced disappoint at the level I did that day.

That cold day that I was in the labor and delivery suite laboring and delivering my stillborn son just 3 weeks after doing the same with my daughter.

I am so bitter towards HOPE because she has brought me so high and without warning dropped me on cement.  She stood back and let the birds eat at me as I lost my heart. Twice.

I am so scared of Hope because when you finally become friends with Her there are still no promises.

I am so frustrated with Hope because I can’t shake her.  Even after these insane losses with insane fertility treatment I’ve taken 2 pregnancy tests (negatives)because I myself have slowing become insane and Hope tricks me into thinking maybe.

Although I’m speechlessly angry at Her, she is winning this battle because we haven’t fully chosen to give up on Her.

If Hope is alcohol, We are an alcoholics.

If She is a drug, we are addicts.

If She is song, we are signing.

If She is a poem, we are reading. 

But the innocence of a heart that has never been broken is long gone.

We don’t look at her with naïve,  longing eyes anymore.

We stare at her with a cold expression.  A guarded, cold, sterile look.

But we are strong.

We remain eye contact with Her.

We look Her in the face even after what She has done to us.

And though we may be fools, as we move forward with this fight,

We whisper “maybe. We hope.”