Anguish, Anger, and Acceptance . . . Again

When I first started this blog, one year ago, I was being obedient to God by sharing my words, thoughts, etc. Most of what I post here comes solely from me, but some of what I post is from another source (My Princess book, American Patriot’s Almanac, etc). Sometimes I like to be informative, other times I like to simply have fun, and once in awhile I share with you my journey.


Regardless of what is posted each day, I strive to be real and relevant. Sometimes my words are for God, sometimes for others, and sometimes they are for me. Like most of you who do much writing, I find it to be cathartic. Sometimes, I simply have to let what is deep inside of me out. This is one of those times. While this is for me, it is not private otherwise I wouldn’t be posting it here. It is real and it is honest. I don't do fake Christianity.


First, let me say that I’ve been a Christian for ten years now. My relationship with God is deep enough that I can be real with Him, and He's big enough to handle it. I know there are mountain top experiences and valley experiences – and neither last forever. I understand that elation is on the mountain top while growth happens in the valley. I know God has a plan. I know He will never forsake me. I know He collects all my tears in a bottle. I know He uses things intended for harm and turns them into good. I know that God is good. I know all of this. But sometimes, I feel . . .


I had hoped to make a wonderful announcement soon. Instead I’m disappointed again. On March 31st, I discovered I was pregnant. We decided to wait until our first scheduled u/s to make the announcement. We were hopeful that this one would take. It hasn’t. We are now in the midst of our third miscarriage. Third. We have been dealing with this “threatened miscarriage” for two weeks already. The pregnancy is not viable, there’s basically nothing left but an empty sac, which is not passing on its own, so we had to schedule a D & C for next Wednesday. The day before what would have been our first scheduled u/s. Five days before Mother’s Day.


I don’t understand any of this. I’m hurt, disappointed, confused and angry. Very angry. I’m angry with my body for once again rejecting the life that was trying to grow within. And I’m angry with God. I know He could have intervened, but He didn’t. For whatever reason, known only to Him, He has allowed me to carry this burden again. As I have continued to delight myself in Him, I have not gotten the desires of my heart, but rather heartache.


I have an amazing, healthy and beautiful daughter that I love with all of my heart and I am eternally grateful for, but I wanted at least one more. Is that so wrong? This has been a five year journey. We are “older” first time parents and I desperately wanted to give Sweet Pea a sibling or two, because the likelihood of our passing when she is still relatively young is pretty strong. Of course that’s not the only reason we wanted another child. We just did.


The thing that gets me, is that those who seem least able or worthy of having children, have no problem doing so. Teens who are still children themselves, girls and guys who’d rather party than parent, drug addicts, welfare recipients, child abusers or murderers, etc. Rarely does a day go by that there’s not news of terrible child abuse. Just yesterday I heard of a local man and wife who’d been arrested for extreme child abuse. They admitted to breaking both the legs and an arm, as well as numerous other injuries, on their four year old daughter, over a potty training incident!


Once again, I just don’t understand. I come from a screwed up, dysfunctional family, both immediate and extended. I am the only one who’s worked to better myself. Booze, drugs, poverty, stripping, welfare, abuse, etc, is the normal way of life to my family. So is breeding like rabbits. The girls (my cousins) have lots of kids, who all have different fathers, whom they seldom marry. The guys really aren’t any better – it’s just harder to determine how many illegitimate children they really have. None of them take responsibility for the actual raising of the kids they have.


I grew up knowing life wasn’t fair. I accepted it. I didn’t really care that I’d been neglected, sexually and emotionally abused, was treated like a piece of dirt for being a welfare kid (that was before it was cool to be so), and many other things I survived or overcame from my childhood. I believed I could change the direction of my life and I did so. And yes, it was with God’s help. But He didn’t offer me anything that He hasn’t also offered my family (and millions others), I just reached out to receive it.


But this one thing makes me cry out to God, “It’s not fair!” Why is it that I am having such difficulty, when I’ve overcome so much and have so much to offer? We can provide a safe, loving home, and meet the needs of a child financially, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. And I know I’m not the only one. Before I became a Christian, I’d only known one person who’d dealt with infertility – my friend LaNae, who was a Christian. But since I’ve become a Christian, I’ve met, known, and have heard of lots of other people who also struggle with this issue. Once again, it’s not fair!


So now we are faced with more choices. Do we continue on, trying to have another child of our own, trusting God to provide, and likely facing more bitter disappointment? Do we look into the option of adoption? Do we simply quit, accept the one child God has given us and be content to be a family of three? I’ve thought of adoption in the past, but I would rather it be a choice because that is what we want to do, not because we are forced into it because we have no other option.


I ‘feel’ very differently than what I ‘know’ and right now, this is my reality. I don’t need pat Christian answers or patronizing platitudes. Since the miscarriage is not yet complete, obviously neither is the grief. This is something we will get through, but I wish we didn’t have to. Frankly, it sucks. I wish this wasn’t happening again, but it is. And I know, that in the grand scheme of things, my problems are pretty minor compared to what millions, perhaps billions, throughout the world are suffering. Still, they are my problems and they do hurt. I haven’t been ok in the last couple of weeks, and it will probably be awhile before I am. Please don’t tell me that my pain will help someone else some day, because right now, I just don’t care.


Thanks for letting me vent and process. Thank you for allowing me to share my anguish, anger, and acceptance. Again.