On the way to work several months ago I was listening to NPR. The story was about a man whose family was exiled from Libya in the seventies. In exile his father was arrested by Egyptian intelligence officers and extradited back to Libya. He and his family are pretty sure that his father is dead after all these years, but don't really have definitive prove if he is alive or dead.
So he always lives with a bit of hope.
The man went on to say that he was once in Ireland and met a woman whose father was lost at sea decades ago and never seen again, presumed (but not confirmed) dead. He felt as though he had a shared experience with this woman. They understood each other.
She always lives with a bit of hope too.
He went on to describe the misery of hope. Generally we think of hope as a good thing.
All hope is not lost.
As long as you still have hope...
Keep hope alive.
But hope can be a bad thing too. Hope can prevent you from moving on. Hope can prevent you from having closure.
If you are still reading here, I am still alive. I am healing and moving on with my life post-fertility treatments. I still have hope.
More to come...