what color is hope?
I’ve mentioned before that my yoga classes is a community ed class taught in a classroom at the local high school. Last month, the blackboard held a series of questions, no doubt as topics for essays or speeches: What does hope look like to you? – color? – shape? – where is it? The question has lingered in the back of my mind (and in my purse, where I jotted it down one evening before class) because I knew exactly how I’d answer that question, I just had to wait a bit before I could get a picture of it.
See that barely there, pale yellow-green blur in the trees? How even though the trees are still mostly barren, you now know that they are indeed going to have leaves? That even though it may have taken until May, you know that spring is coming and the winter is well and truly over (yes, yes, I know that it is possible for there to be snow in MN in May and June, but I choose to cover my ears and say “la-la-la” rather than think about that ). That’s what hope looks like to me. (The picture was taken today – May 3 – at the Heart of the Beast’s May Day Ceremony).
I have a somewhat difficult relationship with hope (as do many people, I’m sure). For one, the Hope storyline in Xena the Warrior Princess was a stupid and annoying plotline. But beyond that, there’s such a fine line between the hope that keeps you going, and getting those hopes up and then being disappointed. Whether it’s the hope that you’ll land that job, find a soul mate, finally conceive a child, carry a pregnancy to term, or that a loved one will recover, or even that a favorite lost item will be found, the fact that the outcomes are not fully in our control means that someone somewhere will be disappointed by their hopes, even if those hopes were realistic, even if they had done everything “right.” I still haven’t figured out how to remain hopeful without opening myself up too much to disappointment.
Which is all is really-long winded way of saying that Chris and I have decided to start trying for a second child. And I’m back to wondering how I’ll handle the hopes and disappointments this time around. It feels different this time. We have Zoe, and Chris and I are both so very happy being her parents, and I think that provides something of a buffer. I’m also not sure how much I’ll blog about the whole trying to conceive thing. I know that last time I wish I’d been much more open about what we were going through, but I never felt the need to share all the details (as much as I do find myself poring over other people’s stories). But I wanted people to know, and I’m sure it will come up again.
- Posted in: infertility