Hope, That Sneaky Bitch

I vowed to remain a realist, to live within the knowledge that my fate rests on odds akin to the flip of a coin, to relegate optimism to its cautious corner of possible versus probable, yet she slides in like morning sun seeping through a crack in the drapes when you’re burrowing in the cover of darkness for a little while longer because it’s safe under the blankets.

We booked our flight to Italy for a family trip in the spring. We added the travel insurance because, well, what if I’m on bed rest? I imagine stealing the tiniest sips of wine – a permissible second trimester transgression – and considering all the unpasteurized cheeses I won’t eat. These musings have been a strangely automatic rose-colored lens through which I’ve glimpsed my future, and they’re dangerous in the shadow of ‘if’ and ‘maybe not.’ I’m no novice. I know the crushing blow of unfettered hope, but she’s luring me in like a siren to the rocky shore. So I find myself making a second set of plans, preparing to take off on beta day, getting ahead at work so I have some space to collapse into a quivering mess if it fails, planning distractions from misery in the form of concert tickets, etc.

But, oh, how I’d love to throw open the curtains and bathe in the warm light of day…

13 thoughts on “Hope, That Sneaky Bitch

  1. It’s so hard not to be hopeful. I go through cycles, always hoping to just forget about whatever I’m dealing with. I, too, hope that you’re having only the occasional sip of wine and gladly avoiding those delicious cheeses.


  2. Hope will always sneak in. It’s a necessary evil to get through the process, I think. I’m hoping that the rays of hope will lead to full on blazing sunshine for you. Best of luck with everything.


    • You’re probably right about that. What would propel us forward through the shit and the blood of trying if there wasn’t hope that it could actually work?


  3. Pingback: Bright Spot | The Empress and the Fool

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