Unbearable: ”˜Don’t Get Your Hopes Up’? Hope Keeps Me Going

Having a child is usually a happy time in a woman’s life. Unfortunately, as we wait longer to have children, infertility and trouble conceiving can become a part of the family making process. Unbearable addresses these difficulties.

Last week, I had a very different plan for my next article. It was going to say something like this:

My boobs are achy. My stomach is unsettled. I feel like I could nap the day away. It’s obviously time for my monthly fake-out. Except this time, my body isn’t faking. This time, my body is actually responding to a real development, not just my hormonal stress. This time, finally, I get to give everyone good news.

Alright, I probably wouldn’t have told everyone a week after I found out, but I was honestly planning my goodbye in my head. I was thinking out exactly how to tell everyone the exciting news. I was two weeks late for my period. My boobs were so sore that I literally couldn’t sleep on my stomach. Time to drink the sparkling grape juice, right?

My husband tried to bring me back down to reality. We haven’t had a doctor’s appointment yet. Pregnancy tests have been particularly unreliable for us and we really don’t have any reason to trust them at all. “I’ll believe it when I see the baby,” my husband told me. I understood his point, but I couldn’t help but feel hurt.

Then, my wonderful, caring husband said the words that I dread. “Just don’t get your hopes up,” he told me. “I hate seeing how hurt you are when it doesn’t work out.”

I knew what he meant. I appreciated his sentiment. He really does just want to protect me from all the difficult stress and emotions that seem to flood this process. I know that my husband’s first instinct is to do whatever he can to help me, and in his mind, staying realistic is helpful.

He’s not the only one either. If I confide in my mother about my excitement, I hear the same warnings. “I don’t want to see you disappointed again,” she tells me. If I talk to my dad, he has the same hesitation. “Just try to hold off on the excitement until you talk to the doctor,” he warns. They all say the same thing. “Just don’t get your hopes up.”

Personally, even I meet the excitement of a possible pregnancy with a little trepidation. I might be more likely to think I’ve pregnant first, but I also feel a hint of terror at the idea. I immediately start worrying about the possibility of another ectopic pregnancy. There’s a very real chance that my next pregnancy could end the possibility of me ever having kids. That weighs heavily on my mind. But I’m still hopeful. I just can’t help it.

(Photo: Diego Cervo/Shutterstock)

This month, like more before it, they were all right. It proved to be just another time when I shouldn’t get my hopes up.Whether the sore boobs were an illusion, a side effect of the fertility treatments or just a product of my normal hormones, they weren’t indicative of any good news. Whether my period was late from stress or I actually had a miscarriage after just a week or two, I’m not sure. The end result is the same. No pregnancy.

It would seem like I should listen to their advice right? That’s the logical thing to do. Stop getting my hopes up, start being a little more realistic. I wonder if the rollercoaster of hope and disappointment is all my own making, something I inflict on myself because I can’t manage to stay logical. Maybe I need to stop being obstinate and listen to everyone’s advice for a change.

There’s just one problem with that whole thought process. Hope is what keeps me going. The hope that someday this journey will produce a baby is what stops me from crawling into a ball on the couch and crying every time I see a diaper commercial. Hope is what convinces me to choke down my horse pills. The hope that next time will work is what convinces me to pick myself up after this month’s failure.

I need that hope. I couldn’t get through this without it. Telling me not to get my hopes up is like telling me to “stop trying.” How on earth does one stop trying to get pregnant when that’s all they want to do. Of course you’re trying. You want a baby! Trying is how you get the baby. And of course I’m hopeful, or else I wouldn’t be putting myself through hell. What would the point of this process if I didn’t hope that I would have a child at the end of it?

I’m not pregnant. Again. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t still build up that same hope next month. I can’t say that I won’t still get excited if my stomach feels queasy. Only an infertile woman is thrilled at the thought of morning sickness. I’m going to get my hopes up again, because that’s how I deal with the monthly disappointment. I take a minute to feel upset and then I focus on my energy on my hopes for the next month.