I have also found that hope, even when unrealized, is good for the soul. It brings life and light to fear and darkness. At least that is my experience. I've learned to let myself ride the hope wave (while being realistic) and to accept the crashing that comes with it - for even in the crash of waves there is beauty, sometimes it just hurts.
As it is the beginning of another 2WW, I find myself feeling full of hope, however unrealistic it might be. I will admit it is spurred on by an unusually healthy looking luteal phase last cycle (unmedicated) and some good timing this month.
I went to Mass at Fr. D's parish on Thursday for the Solemnity of the Assumption. I have "issues" with Marian feast days, though I am getting better, but I knew I was in a safe place being at his parish and it worked out well for my travel plans too.
And yet, the first words of his homily brought the tears. The tears I wasn't expecting.
Today, we celebrate hope.
It was how he began to explain what the Feast of the Assumption is about. It is the hope in the promise of the resurrection of our bodies, of our union with Christ. And it is Mary's faithfulness that we are to follow. Her assumption gives us hope.
Even in the gospel (Luke 11:27-28):
While he was speaking, a woman from the crowd called out and said to him, "Blessed is the womb that carried you and the breasts at which you nursed." He replied, "Rather, blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it."
Jesus points out that it is the faith of his mother (blessed are those who hear the word of God and observe it) that is more worthy than the physical fertility of her. There are days that I would have shut down at the end of the first sentence, completely missing the second part. I would have been fixated on "womb that carried you" and "breasts at which you nursed" and completely missed what Jesus says. But now, it gave me hope and reminded me that fertility is not just physical.
And so, as Fr. D continued, I found myself going back to his very first sentence:
Today, we celebrate hope.
And my past thoughts about hope came to the surface, especially what I said above about bringing life and light to fear and beauty even in the pain when hope is not realized.
From this, I realized that while I do think it is important to share the struggles and pains of infertility, there are times when, for good reason or not, there is hope. Hope that there will be a miracle. Hope that a baby will someday call me "mom."
Just like with physical fertility, these hopes ultimately point to that greatest hope of heaven. So, to only ever share the hard times here would be like only sharing in Jesus time on the cross and not in His resurrection. And while I am keenly aware that these days of hope are likely short-lived (say, 2 weeks), without them, the pain of CD1, of my cross would be too much to bear.
For the sake of the joy that lay before Him, He endured the cross. ~Hebrews 12:2
These moments of hope that defy logic, they are glimpses of the joy that lay before us.
It is in these moments of hope that I feel most alive; in these moments when the pain of CD1 seems so far away; in these moments when I truly believe and trust that God can heal our infertility.
So today, I celebrate hope.