Hope

By Alisa Amlika Blanchard Copyright 2011

I began bleeding hard yesterday. This is something as a woman I should be used to by now, but this month was different. Each time I brought myself to the bathroom I asked myself if I should look down. The blood was hard for me to see, because I had been so sure this time around I was holding life. That old hope of “could I be incubating a soul once again?” loomed over me like a songbird. Positive signs floated all around me, my womb was loved, and I felt loved.

I never took the test that sat there; I wanted to wait until it was time for my cycle, which I was sure I would miss. But alas it arrived heavier and different than the usual cycle; was it really another missed chance to manifest a life from love? Raw with the awareness of my body and heart I sat on the toilet telling myself, “it is ok if you want to cry.” But I couldn’t. This feeling was all too familiar, the ups and downs of life not ready and lost, or even the perceived possibility that life might have begun.

The conversation later on with my husband made my heart quiver in pain of what might have been. I was faced with mirror of my own hopes and fears in his eyes; I held them in my hands and even heard them in his words. We have had this conversation many times in our 10 years together. And while it still always hurts, each time the emotions are easier to talk about. Perhaps this cycle of hopelessness was for the best; for once I didn’t feel so isolated in my mixture of emotion.

Do cycles of hope ever stop? We find ourselves always hoping for more, quickly collapsing when rays of hope dissipate into dismay. But what would happen if in these more challenging moments we allowed ourselves to believe we would indeed have hope and fulfillment again?

For such a young person (30, yes a babe) I have already experienced more loss and hardship than most. I learned early on that I can’t let my circumstances stand in the way of who I am in this core self. Each day I wake with the goal to illuminate my authentic life, and make the necessary space to be the person I am here to be.

I may never carry another child to life but I know that there is much more in life to hope and dream for. I am a manifestation of something more perfect than myself, and while I cannot assemble the right words to generate a real picture of this perfect “something”; I feel it pulse in my core.

I have begun to acknowledge and honor that core self which lives in hope within not just me, but also others. That place which gets placed away from hurt and pain from years of being told “stuff it back down because it is too ‘messy’ to talk about openly.”  

Society has implemented social norms of non-expression. As we hide “bad” parts of life, we as also hide the good parts, without being aware. Refusing to live and be responsible for this place of aware, true intentionally core self is refusing to live life fully. We are all products of circumstance, but what we do with the product even more important than how it was made.

True I have learned what hope is through the eyes of my daughter and my life as a mother. But it is also the spark of life which twinkles and radiates from others. Each day I allow myself to believe in more, I am graced to meet another soul who not only believes in more, but who is also being more.

I have realized in this life YOU must not only co-create your life, YOU must be your first source for hope in order to give yourself the fullest life possible.

So as I let go of this first blanket for life, I let go of the fear that all hope is gone with ritual. I will permit myself to see how my life is full of the most wonderful sources of inspiration.

Hope
I hear you in laughter;
I see you the moon;
I taste you in water;
I live you in circle;
I welcome you at birth;
I witnessed at death;
I begin you with gratitude
For the unknown.

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