We are here...

We are here and doing pretty good. I haven’t updated either blog in forever for so many different reasons. I am working on a post for BB’s blog to update the past couple of days (which have been eventful), but I also wanted to check in here.


WARNING:  This is a complete stream of consciousness post!  I pretty much didn't edit or even re-read, but feel like it had to just come out...hope it makes sense!! 
I guess the main reason I have updated Peace BEGAN in so long is that I wasn’t sure what to say or how to say it. Obviously I think about this little place on the Internet often and I think about the women who I have met here more often than I can express, but, frankly, I didn’t want to disappoint anyone. I have really been struggling with my faith. When I first started this blog I was so sure that God had a plan and that this was a place I could come and explain and find all of the amazing things He was doing in spite of losing our Angel, Ella Grace. As most of you know, we lost another baby (Itty) after Ella Grace.

When we lost Itty I feel like I lost my faith. I became incredibly bitter and angry and even scarier, apathetic. I really was questioning things that I don’t think I have ever questioned before. I was afraid that if I came here to this place to explore these doubts and these questions I could possibly cause someone else to stumble or reinforce someone else’s doubts…I didn’t want to do that. But I am ready to share my struggles. I am not saying I have anything figured out or even resolved, but I feel ready to be open, transparent and vulnerable.

While I was pregnant with Itty I prayed every. single. Day. For that baby. I prayed very specific things…that I would be able to carry him for 9 months, that we would be able to bring him home with us, that he would be healthy. I clung to the verse in James that says “you have not because you asked not” and I truly had faith that Itty was our “bring home baby”, our rainbow baby that would be a promise after all of our storms. It wasn’t long after I became pregnant that I began to see those familiar signs that this baby would not make it. Ultrasounds that showed slowing growth, the look of concern on our ob’s face, the fear in my own face, but I continued to pray. I was clinging to the fact that God was big and he COULD save this baby and show me how great He was. But He didn’t and the week before Ella Grace’s 1st angelversary I had my second D&C.

I think I slipped into a depression deeper than any one really knows. I am not ever sure “A” knows the depths of where I was, emotionally and spiritually. I started thinking about all of the “promises” that I had never seen come to fruition. I started trying to figure it out. I remember thinking (and telling “A”) that it wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God, it was more that I was redefining who he was and what his role was in my life.” (scary, huh!?) I finally concluded, after reading and researching and crying and hurting, that God had set the whole world into motion and then he just sat back and watched. It was easier to think that He was a spectator than to think that He had abandoned me and our babies. I decided that prayer and church and “worship” were all things for us, not for Him. I remember one night, after we found out we were expecting BB, “A” praying for me and for the baby. I sat there, with his hand on my belly, rolling my eyes thinking…”Sweet, sweet man…you are such a fool to think that your words and pleas are reaching the ears of someone who cares.” I had decided that as long as prayer and worship and church made us feel better, they were doing their job…that they were just a salve on the pain and hurt that the world was going to put us through. But they no longer were making me feel better so I was better off just not participating. Praying just made me feel ignored and rejected and frustrated so it must not be doing its job…so I quit. I decided that all the ideas I had learned about God were false. That they were just stories (not unlike the stories of Greek gods) to explain things we couldn’t understand and to help us survive life.

And then, as BB grew and I started trying to accept the idea that he would survive, the guilt grew. I wondered how I could raise a son when I had no idea about my own faith. Honestly, I started panicking. How could I encourage him to say his prayers at night when I didn’t pray. How could I say grace over dinner while thinking that it was empty words. How could I encourage our son to seek faith and to trust in God’s promises when I didn’t myself.

Lucky for me, I have an AMAZING group of women who love and support and never judge me. Last month at our Glory Babies meeting I brought it up. I mentioned how empty and hopeless and scary it was. Jennifer, our fearless, amazing leader helped open my eyes and my heart. Mainly, she said, prayer is a laundry list. God specifically hurts for ME. Yes, bad things happen and hurt happens, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t enraged for us and it doesn’t mean he doesn’t weep with us. I can’t say that I am “back on track” to where I was before we lost Itty, but like with any relationship that has been damaged I feel like I am taking baby steps toward forgiving myself and trusting God. I find myself just attempting to talk to him. I still don’t feel comfortable praying for other people (not sure, yet if it works or not) or even asking others to pray on my behalf. We are not at an intimacy level that we were before and I still feel uncomfortable asking him for anything, but I am trying to daily just check in and say Hi! I know it sounds kind of crazy, but I feel our relationship has to be like any other. If “A” and I were as separated as God and I had been I wouldn’t just jump back in and ask for favors and expect him to act like nothing happened. We would build up to it. We would reacquaint ourselves with each other and we would slowly build that relationship back up. That’s what I am trying with God.