Hope is a word that has followed me closely throughout my journey with infertility. People often offer it as encouragement: “Just hold on to hope.” “Stay hopeful.” “Don’t give up.” “It’ll happen when you least expect it.” While all those words are well-meaning, hope doesn’t always feel light or inspiring. Sometimes, it feels heavy. Sometimes it feels like pressure. Sometimes it feels like the hardest thing in the world to hold on to.
There is a tug-of-war inside me – one hand grasping desperately at hope, the other hand loosening its grip out of fear of being hurt again. I live in that tension daily, and I known I’m not alone.
🌿 The Double-Edged Sword of Hope
Hope can be beautiful. It can be the reason we wake up another day and keep going. The quiet whisper that maybe this month will be different. It can give us the strength to endure another appointment, another shot, another wait.
But hope can also be exhausting. It can make every negative test feel like a deeper fall, every cycle that doesn’t end in two pink lines feel like a fresh wave of grief. To hope is to risk, and sometimes the risk feels unbearable.
There are days when hope feels like a lifeline, and other days when it feels like a weight I can’t carry.
💌 The Fear of Letting Go
There are moments I’ve wondered if it would be easier not to hope at all. To guard my heart so carefully that disappointment won’t sting as much. To live in a place of neutral expectation, neither hoping too much nor preparing for the worst.
But even in those moments, I realize that letting go of hope isn’t really who I am. There’s a stubborn part of me that keeps believing, even when the odds feel stacked against me. That quiet voice stays, “Maybe. Just Maybe.”
And so, the tug-of-war continues.
☕ Living in the In-Between
Most of infertility is lived in the in-between, between treatments, between test results, between one day and the next. And in that in-between, the battle of hope plays out over and over again.
Some mornings, I wake up full of optimism, convinces that maybe this will be the month. By afternoon, a wave of doubt creeps in. By evening, I’m somewhere between imagining what could be and bracing for the crash of what might not.
It’s exhausting to live in this tension. But it’s so real. And if you’re here too, I want you to know that you’re not broken for feeling this way. You’re human.
🌸 Gentle Practices for Holding Hope Loosely
Over time, I’ve learned that I don’t have to grip hope so tightly that it strangles me. Instead, I can hold it loosely – allowing it to be present, but not letting it crush me. Here are a few gently practices that have helped:
- Journaling honestly: writing down both my hope and my fears without judgement
- Finding beauty in today: allowing myself to romanticize ordinary moments (a cup of coffee, fresh air, a lit candle) so my life doesn’t feel like it’s only about waiting
- Leaning on safe people: sharing my heart with those who won’t offer cliches, but simply listen
- Giving myself permission to rest: letting go of the pressure to “stay positive” all the time
Hope doesn’t have to be perfect or unwavering. It can be fragile, complicated, and inconsistent, and still matter.
🌙 A Different Way of Seeing Hope
What I’ve been learning in this: hope doesn’t always look like unwavering confidence. Sometimes it looks like simply waking up and trying again, even when you don’t feel strong. Sometimes it’s in the small, stubborn act of showing up, taking the next step, breathing the next breath.
Hope doesn’t have to roar. Sometimes it’s quiet. Sometimes it whispers. Sometimes it flickers like a candle in the dark, reminding us that even the smallest light still counts.
Closing Reflection
If hope feels complicated to you, I want you to know you aren’t alone. It’s okay if it feels heavy. It’s okay if it feels fragile. It’s okay if you can’t carry it perfectly all the time.
Hope is not a test you pass or fail. It’s a companion you walk with – sometimes close at your side, sometimes lagging behind, sometimes only visible when you turn around and realize it’s been with you all along.
“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” – Desmond Tutu