Hope and Hubris

I had my first monitoring appointment with Dr. Salsa yesterday and he was pleased.  My right ovary is putting on quite a show. 

look_westThe left, not so much. He wasn’t too concerned, though. He told me in his delicious accent, “Your ovaries are telling me that they are young, my friend!”  They were telling me that he was jabbing just a little too hard, but hey.  Later, I asked not to be told what my E2 level was.  It is just fodder for unnecessary angst.  All I wanted to know was whether it was good and if I should continue on my current dose of Follistim.  The answer to both questions was yes, with a follow up in two days.  

So, why can’t I shake this feeling of fatalism? That no matter what we do, it won’t ever work?  I can’t stop thinking that because it is me, me of the long sordid saga of infertility treatments that nothing in the fertility realm could possibly ever work out for me, including growing good eggs.

I think it all goes back to one little word: hubris

I’ve come to realize that even now, I feel as if my first miscarriage was a punishment of sorts for my hubris in thinking that because I was pregnant, I would have a baby.  I felt entitled to have that baby.  I had given enough, wanted it badly enough, and damnit, I had finally gotten the elusive BFP so I was going to take that thing out on the road.  I started to look at baby names and thinknig about how I would take a few months off of work after the birth. I made plans. And then, wham. And with my second one, I got excited, used lots of exclamation points, and then again, wham. The result is that I am conditioning myself to not get excited about anything fertility-related because that will result in whatever gains being taken away. The minute I publish that exclamation point, it’s all over.

To me, hope has become hubris. Having any amount of hope feels like a set up for the inevitable smack down. The two have become so intertwined that I don’t know if I can separate them.

image: look_west

8 thoughts on “Hope and Hubris

  1. I’m glad things are going well… Dr. Salsa sounds like fun. Since I’ve been watching Top Chef reruns all week, I imagine his voice to be a lot like Fabrizo (one of the chef’s… watch if you haven’t).

    Wow, that was a tangent. Here’s my real comment, lol… Infertility robs the experience of being knocked up, foot-loose and fancy-free. Even if one sticks we lack that feeling of contentment… and instead of feeling “deserving” of being pregnant we risk 9 months of crawling on our hands and knees on a bed of nails just to beg that the Gods have mercy on us.

    That’s the bitter talking.

  2. I don’t think hope equated to hubris. And I don’t think hubris has an bearing upon pregnancy success. I don’t think that anything we think or feel or have done in our pasts has any bearing on any part of infertility. No one earns infertility any more than any one earns cancer. It’s random.

  3. i’m avoiding the exclaimation point too. it’s too scary to hope.

    i can, however, hope with abandon for you! sounds like your cycle is progressing nicely – i’ll keep fingers and toes crossed! 😉

  4. When terrible heartbreaking things happen, our poor minds search for any explanation, even one that punishes us for our legitimate joy at overcoming a hurdle. Sort of a “sinners in the hands of any angry God” approach to making sense of things: because you were too happy, the gods/fate/whatever rained down wrath.

    This is a natural chain of thought, but it is a misleading one. What happened to you had nothing to do with your hope. What you thought and felt have nothing to do with what happened. And what happened will not necessarily repeat itself.

    You don’t have to feel hope. Just try to shy away from despair, my dear, and do the best you can. I’m sorry you’re tied up in these painful knots.

  5. Of course we don’t jinx our outcomes by hoping. But. I know what you’re feeling and how that plays out in your thoughts. One thing that helped me was to regularly remind myself that feeling it was okay (a little self-acceptance can go a long way) and that *I knew* those feelings didn’t have the power over what happened. The good ending is totally possible!!! (You’re not using exclamation points, I am; so they are fine.)


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