Hope Sinks (Momentarily)

Recently, I came across a quote by Friedrich Nietzsche that read, “Hope is the worst of evils, for it prolongs the torment of man.” My first reaction when reading this was, “Wow. That Nietzsche! What a bummer!”

My second reaction was, “Ummmm. He does sort of have a point.”

When struggling through any trying time, no matter the issue, hope is often what I cling to. I hope things work out exactly as I want them to and the promise of that happy ending keeps me going. Hope though, at least in my little fertility challenged brain, can often be confused with total belief and that is where things can get dangerous. I can hope things will work out but I have to remember that hope comes with no guarantees. Hope doesn’t even come with a warranty.

I mention this because I’ve never been an optimist. For me, the glass isn’t just half empty — it’s also filled with the entirely wrong beverage. That’s not to say that I’m a totally negative person. I just tend to prepare for the worst and more often than not, the worst is exactly what I get.

However, despite the fact that I’ve been trying to accept the possibility that I may never have children, I recently came down with a bad case of optimism. The past cycle was an all around positive one. It was my birthday and Thanksgiving so I was relaxed, happy and well fed. Also, I don’t want to brag but our ‘trying to conceive timing’ was spot on. Even the face our Ovulation Prediction Kit was impressed. At least I think that’s what the smile meant. Then, in the last week of my two week wait, I noticed I hadn’t had my usual PMS Symptoms. I started to wonder, “Wow. Could this be it? Am I finally pregnant?”

Then, the cramps began. Then, the spotting. Optimism over. Blinding pessimism returned. I was actually mad at myself for even entertaining the thought of success. How could I have let myself get that hopeful when nothing ever seems to work? Damn you hope! Damn you straight to hell!

The day my period started, I had an all out meltdown. Pajamas, ice cream, any sappy Sandra Bullock movie I could get my hands on and a whole lot of hysterical crying. The next morning, I saw my reproductive endocrinologist and told him about my current state (minus the Sandra Bullock movies). I asked him why I should even bother spending my entire savings on a second IVF when nothing has worked so far. He listened to my whining, offered me some encouraging statistics and what he would do differently from my first IVF. As we started to discuss how much all this would cost me and how I would most likely have to sell an organ or two to pay for it, he stopped and said, “Oh wait. I think you may qualify for a clinical trial we’re doing.”

“A clinical trial? What does that mean?” I asked.

“It would mean a free IVF cycle.” He said while rummaging through the appropriate paper work.

I’m sorry, what?!? Free? FREE? My husband had to physically restrain me from jumping into the doctor’s lap and kissing him passionately. I’ve always loved free stuff, but free fertility stuff? That gets me hot.

Sam and I fit into everything the trial requires; age, health, what we’ve already tried, economics, etc. The ONLY thing I have to do in the next three weeks is lose two pounds in order to fit into the weight range they are looking for. Ordinarily, this wouldn’t be a big deal. Don’t get me wrong. Losing weight in general is like trying to get blood from a stone for me but trying to lose two pounds over the holiday season in particular is rather a challenge. In the last week alone, a client sent me a huge box of cookies, an Uncle of mine gave me an entire tower of treats and at a holiday party this weekend, I had fruit for dessert while everyone else ate cupcakes.

Mmmmm. Cupcakes…

Still though, if it means I’ll save $15,000… I will eat my watermelon and I will like it.

After I lose the weight and after they do several tests on both Sam and I, we will find out if we will definitely be accepted into the clinical trial. Although I’m still nervous about the whole experience, having the financial strain removed would be a HUGE help. Plus, if I could lose a few pounds, then get pregnant with a free IVF AND save my end of the year bonus, I’d be happier than a bird with a French fry.

No really… have you ever seen a bird with a French fry? That’s PRETTY damn happy.

So, I’m not sure how to feel. Should I let hope prolong my torment as Nietzsche said? Or do I give in to optimism and start believing that things may actually work out? My therapist says that I should stay positive, take one day at a time and accept whatever the outcome is knowing that I did my best. That’s great advice but it’s easier said than done.

The only thing I know for sure is carrot sticks don’t taste nearly as good a chocolate chip cookies and Nietzsche is dead and of little use to me right now.