New Year, No Hope

January 5, 2019

By Sanda Rathamone


“A bird sitting on a tree is never afraid of the branch breaking, because her trust is not on the branch but on it's own wings. Always believe in yourself." - Unknown

My husband and I are not all that into celebrating the New Year's or NYE. We are usually the quiet couple that stays home and go about our day, as if it is like any other day. Although, last year, we did go out late in the night with hot chocolates in hand, waiting in the cold breeze for the last five to ten minutes until midnight.

We were close to the shoreline, standing on overgrown weeds and grass, hiding near some trees and shrubs. Under the dark sky, we watched five minutes of fireworks over the Bay Bridge. Of course, we had to do a new year's kiss.

I had so many hopes for 2018...

Many of these hopes led to heartache, as month after month, my womb laid empty. Today, my womb is bleeding, my eyes are swollen, and my cheeks are wet. This is not how I had wanted to start 2019. 

My period was due right around Christmas. I was relieved that I didn't have to spend Christmas night/our seventh year anniversary during a mournful and emotional time in my cycle. However, the last four days before new year's day, I was dreadfully hoping that the aching and tenderness in my breasts were a pregnancy symptom.

(Related Read: This Christmas)

On NYE, I was hit with a bad cramp that lasted a whole day. I woke up on new year's day, nervously contemplating on whether or not to test. I was about a week late and each day that nothing had appeared, the more overwhelming my anxiety became. 

This waiting to find out whether this was an onset to a period or the beginnings of pregnancy was like waiting at a gate to be saved or slaughtered. 

The test was negative. 

I stood in the bathroom, thinking: 

"What the f*ck is wrong with me?" 

"Do I love disappointing myself?"

"Why would this time be any different?"

There was this lingering, a small glimmer of hope that this negative would turn positive. Things could change, or progress?? For the next few days, the cramps were on and off, not consistent like period cramps. These cramps were comparable to the ones I had before I found out that I was pregnant with Elijah. I wanted them to be comparable, I convinced myself that they were. 

It was going to be positive in two weeks, like how it was with Elijah. The cramps would come and go, I would wait it out, and then take a second test to see that I was pregnant. 

But, me being me, I was so worried about a period. A couple of days ago, I dreamt that it came during my sleep. I saw myself waking up with a spot on the sheets and felt a heavy load in my belly. I feared that that dream was real. 

Two days after that dream I am siting here, tormented by the feelings of grief, disappointment, frustration, and defeat. A dream came true, but it feels more like a nightmare. I just want it to end. 

This is my start of 2019 - with the 19th loss

(Related Read: The Eighteenth Loss)

I have come to a point where hope is not doing anything for me. Hope is a no-gooder, more a pain. I am tired of hoping. I don't want anyone's hope or to give hope to anyone. Hope is no longer a beautiful place for a heart to live. Hearts don't thrive there. 

My mentor would say things like, "Don't say 'I hope to.' You don't 'hope to' be good at something. You WILL be good at something. You ARE good at something." Hope is uncertainty. Hope is not enough. Hope is too passive. Hope is not brave. You can't do anything with hope. F*ck hope!

That is how I will be this year: less of hope and more of certainty. Confident. Assertive. Fearless. Reclaiming what I know belongs to me; reclaiming myself and my inner power. I have lost too much from hoping for happiness. 

Post a Comment

Little Heart Tiny Wings © . Design by Berenica Designs.