There are definite themes of the grave in Hope Gives a Eulogy, because infertiliy is the death of many things.
And I know death is a strong term, but I stand by it.
Death of dreams.
Death of who you were & who you’d thought you’d be.
Death of of all that has never existed.
Death of years dragging by with the word no ringing in your ears.
Still God heals, breathes life into the stories we hate, and stays through every stage of us.
Here lies you beginning.
All brokenness and bloom.
No better way to say what God can do with the harshest of realities. Infertility is stark, but the light of God overpowers. So, Hope Gives a Eulogy is a record of that. . .of my infertility story and my God who lived it with me and gave me life in the loss of it.
Order your copy here to read the remaining 91 poems about the awful pain, beautiful miracles, gentle healing, and overwhelming hope + light in the harsh reality of infertility.
I want Hope Gives a Eulogy to communicate the resilience + life still vibrant in the woman suffering infertility. You are more than the children you have never borne. You have life and can give it, motherhood or not.
The love poems in Hope Gives a Eulogy are some of my favorite. Because a love story faced with infertility is daunting. But that love story is also stunning in its resolve, commitment, and depth.
This particular moment in “California Redbuds” was one of the hardest in my life. It was like being in a tunnel of pain with no way out. It felt claustrophobic and numb and sharp. Infertility feels like being crushed repeatedly by reality.
After Ben handed me those redbuds, my heart soon collapsed on a friend’s couch (another poem in HGaE) and I just expressed my pain aloud. From the moment of redbuds to my friend’s couch (about 5-6 hours in time) I could breathe outside the tunnel again. And that April night was an incredible turning point for me.