As my brother, David, says, his car is like most people: it has a good side and a bad side. In his car's case, the bad side is the right side. It has a huge scrape. Hope is like David's car but more extreme. It has some major pros and cons.
Hope is also like pizza. James says pizza is a hideous bitch goddess: so bad and yet so good.
Hope is bad because it keeps us from moving on. It prolongs our grief month after month. Every time we let our wounds heal even a little bit, we get a wisp of hope that pulls us back into the yearning, the struggle. It never gives us a break! Two months ago I started crying when James said that maybe I would be pregnant this summer, and that I would be limited to "supervising" his heavy-duty landscaping efforts. It was such a vivid picture. Hope poked through the dark paving stones of my heart and blossomed like a little flower through the cracks. It hurt.
But overall, hope has a good reputation. Last night I was talking to Dad, telling him about how we've started up this IVF cycle and I've started taking my daily shots. He asked if I found that energizing. First I thought he was crazy, because there is nothing worse than a syringe-full of hormones for DE-energizing a woman. But then I realized that I was indeed energized. Giving myself shots and going to doctor's appointments makes me feel that I'm taking the fight into my own hands. It gives me something to do to counteract the powerlessness I usually have to slog through. So yes, I feel energized. For a change, I feel hopeful. That's one thing that IVF offers to the hopeless: hope.
I had been mulling that over this morning as I browsed through some handmade crafts online. A woman who spins and dyes her own yarn (http://www.jojocheng.etsy.com/) was advertising different colored skeins named after different virtues. The brownish pink one that caught my eye was called "HOPE," and as I flipped through "GENEROSITY" and "LOVE," I decided that HOPE was my favorite. I tried to get back to it in the online catalog, but it was gone. Someone must have bought it! Damn! I wrote her an email saying that if she made another skein like it, I'd like to buy it. She immediately responded that a computer glitch had just temporarily removed HOPE from the list. It hadn't been snatched up by another buyer.
I lost HOPE, and then it returned! How can one refuse a metaphor like that? I placed my order.
I promise I will make something really pretty with it. If hope is going to keep stringing me along, I might as well knit.