Finding and holding on to glimmers and flashes of hope during infertility

When you’re battling infertility, hope can be hard to find and hold on to. It can be especially difficult when you’ve been battling infertility for what feels like ages, and everyone around you seems to be getting baby after baby after baby.

In my four years of infertility and pregnancy loss, I’ve had two miscarriages, birthed a stillborn son, and had two solid years of nary a single positive pregnancy test. In those same four years, there are people in my life who have added two or three living children to their family.

But I still have hope that I’ll come through this with a living baby because I look for hope every day. I make note of things that remind me that there’s still a chance I’ll birth a living child and get to bring them home to grow up.

I like to think that hope comes in glimmers and flashes.

Glimmers of hope

Little specks of hope that slowly build me up and keep me going are glimmers. They may not seem like much, but they make a difference. Whether in the moment or as they build upon one another, glimmers are small things that encourage me while I walk this journey.

• A friend referring to me as a mama.
• Someone mentioning my son by name or including him in the count of grandchildren or nephews.
• A fellow infertile or angel mom telling me how she had a dream last night in which we were celebrating our babies’ first birthdays together.
• My husband getting excited about an activity that he plans to do with our kids.
• Hearing about an infertility warrior who has delivered a healthy babe.

These glimmers remind me why I’m not giving up hope—I have a dream and, right now, I have the ability to keep trying to achieve it.

Flashes of hope

Sometimes big things happen to move me forward on this journey. I call these flashes of hope because they sometimes shock me even as they add a bright bit of light to this often dreary path. These flashes are significant things that move me closer to a diagnosis, a treatment, and ultimately, a living baby.

• Being referred to the Regional Fertility Program for a fertility assessment after my third pregnancy loss.
• Getting a prescription for fertility medication and having a tangible treatment rather than the vague “just keep trying” instruction.
• Most recently, getting an actual diagnosis and having surgery to fix a problem that, until recently, we had no idea existed.

That last one has filled me with the hope that, finally, 2021 will be our year to bring a living baby home.

Sometimes hope sneaks up on us. Sometimes it’s tough to grasp ahold of. But actively looking for glimmers of hope and for the glitter of good things—no matter how small—can help us make it through this journey. Infertility and pregnancy loss are painful, and the journey is long, but hope for the future we want can often be found if we look hard enough.

Here’s to 2021 being your year in which your hope is found and fulfilled.