Belonging to God

Lately things have been difficult. I have felt very lonely and life has been hard. I have felt doubt and anger and, at times, I have felt very bitter and resentful.
No matter what I feel, I keep up a brave front when it comes to the kids; I never expose my doubt or despair and I always reassure them that their baby sister is in heaven even when I doubt its existence. I still have them pray throughout the day even when I wonder "why bother?".
I do this because I know that they deserve something that I never had- a religious upbringing. There are so many times during the past 10 months when I have told my husband that I would have handled my loss better if I had been given a strong religious foundation; then it would all just be a given- a fact of life. As it is, though, I was not raised to think about God and to incorporate Him into my every second. So, now, as an adult, I struggle. I'm not saying that even people with a solid religious foundation don't struggle at times- we are human, after all. But what I am saying is that I feel at a disadvantage compared to people who were raised knowing that they belong to God.
If one is raised  from day 1 with the knowledge that every human being belongs to God, dying is just returning to Him. We come from Him when we are born to our parents- who have been entrusted with our care physically, emotionally and spiritually- and when He wants us back, we go to Him. We never belonged to the world or to our parents and our kids never really belong to us. We all belong to God.
In religion, my kids learn that we are not here to serve and gratify ourselves but instead we are here to know, love and serve God.  They are also taught to love God above all things.
I was never taught this. I grew up thinking that I existed for myself and that I should work towards my own happiness at all times. I thought that I deserved to be happy- I had a right to be happy. Whenever I thought about heaven, it was in conjunction with hell because I feared hell rather than wanted to be with God in heaven.
So now, as an adult and a mother in mourning, I am feeling like a cold bucket of water has been thrown at my face; I am experiencing true grief which conflicts with my "right" to be happy. I know that we are never promised happiness in this life but this is something I only recently learned and so realizing it at all times is difficult. I have been fighting it- thinking of it as punishment- thinking that I don't deserve it... I never learned that suffering is a blessing from God that draws us closer to Him. I never learned that I could offer up my sufferings for different causes- the poor souls being one of my favorites. I have to teach myself all of these things now because I never learned them as a child.
Grief is a part of life- for everyone. No one is immune. It really helps to have a solid belief system in place before one must experience grief. So, when I feel doubtful, I don't allow myself to be lenient with the kids when it comes to religion- I want them to have a solid foundation. Maybe this is selfish of me, but it is better than being neglectful of their religious education simply because I have issues. This, I believe, is more selfish- to rob kids of their right to know their Father and, according to scripture, can be a grave sin. My kids will have the tools needed to thrive in any storm and they will grow up knowing that each and every one of us is God's and that the earth is only our temporary home. They will know that grief isn't a bad thing even though it feels bad and that we can always turn it into something beautiful by offering it up and uniting our sufferings with that of Jesus.
Today, during adoration, it hit me: we all belong to God. My children are not mine- they are God's. Barbara was always God's- never mine. She just happened to be in my care for a short time but she was never mine. It hit my in my heart rather than in my brain; it is one thing to parrot this over and over but it is another thing entirely to know it in one's heart. All of my kids belong to God- not me.
I belong to God, too- even when I doubt and feel anger towards Him... I am His and He is my Father.
I still mourn my loss and I will forever but it does help to know that she always belonged to God...

Blame

This is the third edit of my original post. I want Dr. Amy's followers to know that they are not welcome on my blog and their presence here makes me sick. Anyone who participates in the expolitation of a mother's grief is sick and anyone like Dr. Amy, who can lie about the death of a child is doubly sick. This blog is about mourning the loss of a child within the context of my faith. If you are not here for this reason, then go away!


This is not my original post but this is the one that began what has been the icing on the cake of a year that has been  sheer hell for my family and me. Before this post was referanced and quoted by Dr. Amy, this blog was about dealing with the death of my child, which has seems to be a never- ending battle and something I now know I will have to do for the rest of my life. The thing is that it is nearly impossible to find what one is looking for after the death of a child- true peace and healing.

One thing that I noticed was that the world around me went on while my world stopped. My world would never be the same while everyone else's world just went on to bigger and better things. I could not talk to anyone because the things I felt were- well, embarassing. The few people I turned to could not understand and my husband had to go to work immediately after the death of our child. Life went on.

For me, every day was a constant struggle. At the end of ever day, I'd think to myself- "well, I got through that one..." and then another would come and then another. I was alone. So, I started this blog. I started it because I thought I could say things on this blog that I could not say to anyone in person. I also thought that I could help other people who are going through the same thing. I know that it would have helped me to have had the thoughts and feelings of another grieving mom to read; I would have known, then, that I was not so alone and I would not have felt like such a freak and at least that would have been something. And something is more than nothing.

So, I was brutally honest. I wrote exactly what I felt. I didn't mind puting it out there because I really thought I could do some good for others. I also wanted to write about my faith and my struggle to keep it. It is so hard to keep believing in God when it seems like God has abandonned me. I thought maybe if others saw my struggle, they would not lose faith as I was so trying not to do.

I had no idea my blog would be used in such a way; that my words- so honestly written with pure and decent intent- could be twisted and used against me. I had no idea I was putting myself out there to be ripped apart like that. I had no idea that the memory of my child would be profaned by such a terrible lie and my misery exploited to justify a cause that I want no part in.

Parents who love their kids feel responsible for every decision they make, which is why they think long and hard before making important decisions. Even though we try our very best and pray on things, respearch things, etc., sometimes things don't work out the way we want for out kids. When this happens, we blame ourselves. It doesn't matter how many people tell us that we did our best, that it is not our fault- giref defies all logic and we blame ourselves.

My first baby was born in the hospital under the care of negligent OBs. She nearly died and spent her first few weeks in the local NICU. She was heavily medicated for the first year of her life because the brain damage she sustained as a result of physician negligence. I blamed myself. If only I had found different OBs... if only I had said "no" to the epidural... If only I had been able to push through the lips... it just had to be my fault- something I did while I was pregnant, perhaps. Maybe I didn't try hard enough.

My second baby was born via elective section because another OB (resident) told me it would be the safest thing. I didn't want to go through my first birth experience again so I elected to have the section. During the section, the OB on call yelled at the resident because I was almost ready to push and should not have had the section. When I saw my son pulled up out of my opened abdomen, I began to cry. He was cold and he was crying and it just wasn't how I wanted him to be born. He was with strangers as he cried for his mom. I blamed myself. I failed. If only I had said "no"; if only I had been brave; if only I had remembered all that I had read... I let my fear take over.

My guilt soon turned into depression and the fact that, months later, I was still in pain from the surgery only made things worse. I still wish I had made a different decision. I love my son and I feel as if I failed him just like I failed my oldest.

My fourth baby was born at home. She was born at home but that was not what killed her. what killed her was physician ineptitude and negligence because the physician I was seeing throughout the pregnancy dropped the ball on so many things. Even so, I blame myself- just like I do for the other two- HOSPITAL- births. It is important that people know what killed my child because I do not want a lie to ruin the memory of her.

What was different about this birth, though, was the fact that other people blamed me. Even though an entire team of neonatologists and, more recently, an OB and another neonatologist have proven my innocence (and that of birth at home), people who do not bother to find out the truth and the facts have taken it upon themselves to judge and blame.

This further isolates a grieving parent and only multiplies her own sense of guilt and blame because, like I said, grief defies all logic.

I know that only God can judge me and I will have to answer for anything I have done in this life when I move on to the next. I know that, if we judge, we can expect to be judged as harshly as we have judged... It isn't anyone else's right to judge me and it isn't anyone else's right to capitalize on my misery and the death of my child.

This blog is not about birth at home. It does not defend birth at home or insult it. It is about the grief a mother feels after a child dies. It has been turned into something else entirely, though, with over 800 hits on the post that used to be in this posts place. Over 800 hits and ONE compassionate reader. I wonder if any of the readers who wanted  a good bit of drama and who wanted  to salivate over a good story got what they wanted... If so,  they have to know that their satisfaction has been at my expense and, as a result, they should feel ashamed of themselves and put some thought into Dr. Amy's methods and motives.

No one has the right to judge the motives of parents who do what they believe is best for their children. It is sad to think that we live in a world where parents can be informally charged with the death of their child simply because they do not behave in a way that is acceptable to Dr. Amy and her readers.

UNinformed Consent and D&Cs Ought to be a Crime

Something I find interesting is that most of my posts aren't read. My goal here was to let it all out, so to speak, so that other moms in my position would not feel as freakish as I do after feeling so terrible after having lost a 4 week old baby. Oddly enough, my posts on infertility and D&Cs are the most popular; followed by anything regarding medical ethics. Cleveland Catholic Cemeteries association was also somewhat popular... I don't know what this means. What I do know is that it is very sad that so many people have to read my infertility and D&C posts; this means that a lot of people must be googling this topic and thus a lot of people are either afraid of infertility as a result of a D&C or are dealing with infertility as a result of a D&C. Perhaps a few people are just morbidly curious but who would think of researching this topic just for fun (eeek!)? So, this is very, very sad. When I got my D&C, I was scared and confused and I just wanted to get back to my baby who was (quite possibly) dying in the NICU. At the time, I was afraid that she would be dead by the time I got back. My husband was in no state to advocate for my best interest because now he had a wife who needed a surgery and a newborn who was dying. I made him go back to her rather than stay with me because she needed him more than I did and, if she were to die, I did not want her to die alone. Obviously, there was a lot going on. I didn't like the first doctor I met with very much; he was brusk and semi- mean. He spoke down to me and I was really afraid of him doing the D&C. Thankfully, because I had insurance (which is sick in itself), I got to meet with another doctor who was actually very kind and had comforting things to say. The nurse was also very kind and sympathetic- even the anesthesiologist was great. The procedure was explained to me and I was told how I would be put under. The only thing I was not told was how the D&C could effect my fertility. I was also not told about any other options and was told that I had to have it done because, if I didn't, I'd probably be back later, anyhow, to get it done (the first doctor told me this and so whether or not I absolutely needed it was no longer an issue- or so I thought). Normally, I would have asked about other options or what would happen if I didn't get it done, etc. But, under the circumstances, I was just too out of it to think strait. At 9:30 PM on a Saturday Barbara was born after 2 days of labor and no sleep. I lost a lot of blood that night from the retained placenta. I didn't sleep much and held Barbara for most of the night. At 10 am the next morning, we were en route to the NICU because Barbara had stopped breathing. Around 2 pm, she was baptized and we were able to see her. Around 4 am Monday morning, we were on the way to another hospital because something was wrong with me. The D&C was performed around 8. So, you see, things were really messed up at the time. This was why I was interested in getting it all over with more than anything else- my future fertility was not nearly as important to me as the present baby in the NICU... If I knew then what I know now, I would not have gotten the D&C. If OBs truly informed women of all of the possible risks of a D&C- including infertility- I would have much less of an issue with D&C related infertility. My guess is, though, that most OBs- regardless of how kind or well- meaning they may be- do not fully inform women of all D&C related risks. This means that the majority of women who are getting D&Cs do not know that they are about to submit to a procedure that may render them infertile. I have a huge issue with this. If a woman was put under for a section and her tubes were tied without her permission during the process, she could sue. It would be all over the news! But when a women gets a D&C and becomes infertile as a result, no one bats an eyelash except for the couple experiencing infertility. Even though the OB doing the procedure is aware of this risk and does not relay this information on to his patient, there is obviously nothing wrong or unethical with the procedure being done, anyway. This is how it is looked at by the medical monster (aka. the "establishment"), individual OBs and society as a whole. In my mind, however, the two scenarios are one in the same. I never consented to being made infertile- just like the hypothetical woman whose tubes are tied while she is under. Yes- I am saying that a D&C performed without real informed consent that renders a women infertile is akin to forced sterilization. Not that the OB forced the sterilization per se, but instead consciously withheld vital information that has impacted the health, well- being and my ability to reproduce in the future. The act of consciously withholding information is something that must not be ignored. The fact is that a D&C can cause scar tissue (adhesions) to form which, in turn, can cause infertility and/or repeat miscarriage. Miscarriage can lead to more D&Cs... which lead to... you know... on and on. The truth is that women are just not informed and, as a result, we suffer. There is no balm to soothe the pain of infertility. There are no words that can make things better. It is a lonely state to be in and people often say the wrong things when we choose to open up about our problem. If we believe that God gives us children and we can't have them, it makes it even harder. We wonder what we have done to cause God to not give us children. We feel guilty. We see others relishing their state of pregnancy or parenthood and we feel bad. We wonder why god "favors" them over us. When we see neglectful or abusive parents, we really question whether or not God knows what is best. I have found that it is very difficult to be a Catholic and also infertile. Very few people understand how I feel and I don't seem to fit in with my Catholic peers. My priest, though kind, doesn't understand how it feels and, as a result, can be a little insensitive. It is hard to see so many other pregnant women or women with babies and even harder to hear other women bragging. It hurts. One thing that bothers me about the Church is that she appears to be more exclusive than inclusive and if you aren't the way others want you to be in any particular group, you are excluded. Sadly, the only thing that should be necessary for inclusion is that one is a practicing Catholic who is trying- in earnest- to live by the Book(s) (ie. the Bible and the CCC). Time and time again I have had the door shut in my face because I wasn't the way others wanted me to be. Dealing with infertility has only made this worse and it has caused me to question my Faith. Since losing my baby, I have learned a lot about the world and people and have become very sad, mistrusting, scared, shy, resentful and bitter. Dealing with infertility has only made it worse. I am so angry with myself and the doctor because I had the D&C. I am so angry that it is OK to perform a D&C without first informing the patient about all of the risks- however small. This should be seen as a crime rather than standard and acceptable. I see, by the number of people who have looked at my post about D&Cs and infertility, that this is a real issue that needs solved. The medical community won't solve it and so we must. We must demand the truth from our health care providers. We must demand that all possible options are mentioned and explored all the risks of all options are known and weighed in comparison to the benefits. We must demand that our intelligence is respected and that our bodies are treated as the wonderful creations of God that they are. We are not patients #27865 and #48964; we are human beings. We are more than just a uterus that needs a good scraping; we are people with hopes and dreams- many of them having to do with the children we someday hope to have. "Demand" is not too strong of a word and it is what we will have to do if we are to make things truly just, ethical and reasonable when it comes to D&Cs in particular and women's health care in general.

Barbara's Beautiful, Stupid Kidneys

When my baby was in the NICU, her attending neonatologist ordered a consultation with a pediatric nephrologist. This doctor, though my experience with him was limited, was by far one of my favorite people at the hospital with whom I interacted. First off, he was kind. He was also interested in my child and interested in getting to know her parents as much as he could. He had a good sense of humor and he treated my child like a normal human being- I can't tell you how much that meant to me and hod good that felt after watching the way almost everyone else treated her. He spoke to us like we were real people- he didn't talk down to us or dumb things down- he seemed to be experienced at feeling around in order to know who he was dealing with. He told me that Barbara's kidneys were "stupid". I had to laugh at this because it made sense. He wasn't insulting us or her; rather he had sense enough to know who we were and what he could and couldn't say. He brought some humor into a bad situation and I was as grateful for it then as I am now. I don't know why I thought of this today. The truth is that I have been hurting a lot lately and I don't know why. I seem to miss her more and more as the days go by when I thought I'd miss her less and less. I guess this is because I am doing research now on thyroid problems and her deplorable condition and birth and after is starting to make sense. People have accused me of killing my child and someone who is very close to me blamed my child's illness on my life style. In the NICU, there was a real "blame the mother" attitude which put me at odds with the doctors from the very beginning even though the NICU docs had to admit that it could not have been my fault. The more I learn, the more I know that I am not to blame- I did not kill my child and it has nothing to do with my life style. I was not negligent- I went to a doctor- someone I trusted- for help and he let me down. Even now, he refuses to admit he was wrong and also refuses to prevent the same thing from happening again. My mother tells me to sue him. What good would it do? It won't bring Barbara back and I don't think that he went out of his way to be negligent. The thing that bothers me about him now is that he refuses to listen and learn in order to prevent the same mistake from happening again. Imagine how it felt- knowing that people were thinking that I killed my child? Losing a child is the worst thing that could happen to a person but then to spread things and things... Getting back to the stupid kidneys... Her kidneys were not stupid; the people entrusted with her care were. My baby was beautiful and her organs were perfect- formed by God for some purpose although I still don't know what. Sometimes I don't think I can get through this even now because the pain is just too great. When I am alone, I cry. I feel just as bad as I did months ago. I miss her just as much and her absence is always felt. Sometimes I wonder how I can live anymore. How I can face tomorrow and the day after that, etc... People are very private about how they feel at times like this. Being private doesn't help anyone. It doesn't let other people know that are really OK for what they feel. Everyone thinks that I should just get over this but I will never get over it and if other people can't deal with this, it is not my problem. Mothers who supposedly don't love their kids anymore after they've reached adulthood and thus are on their own are bad parents, right... so why should I stop loving my child just because she is gone from this earthly life? I think I will ask to go to the cemetery today. I just need to be with her. My heart is breaking.

What a Mother in Mourning May Not Tell You

At the burial of my baby, I was calm and collected. Slow and steady tears streamed down my face but I was composed. I regret this. I thought "what would people say if I cried hysterically?" I wanted to be a big woman- a strong mother. I wanted to appear strong for my kids and I did not want to embarrass myself in front of my family. Inside, I was falling apart; I was feeling so many things that it was difficult to feel anything at all. Everyone was quiet and stoic- no one really cried hard. Since Barbara died, I have not reached out to anyone. I thought that they would be kind enough to reach out to me. My best friend is intelligent and selfless enough to know that I am like this and so she has always been there for me when no one else was. I never had to call her for help; she just assumed I needed it. I think this is because she lost a baby a few years ago and, I really think that unless someone has lost a baby, they have no idea what it feels like and how life is ever changed from that moment on. I am grateful for her. I am not sure if I have mentioned this before but only one person in my family has bothered to call since Barbara died and one person stopped by the day after she died. I have a huge family- and yet no one has bothered to call. Strangers have been kinder. My mother tells me that they didn't know what to say. My sister- with whom things are now patched- told me that she thought I would reach out to her if I needed her. Maybe this is what everyone thinks. Losing a child isn't like having a broken leg and needing help cooking, cleaning, etc. I would have an easier time asking for help for something like a broken leg... Losing a child flings someone into a sort of confusion, pain, anger and despair that is so private, personal and inexplicable. People can't expect someone in this situation to ask for help; it is just too much to ask. To expect someone to ask for help is to expect someone to be rational at a time when being rational is not possible. Someone who has lost a child is not rational; they are all heart. What a mother who has lost a baby may not tell you is how terrible she feels. This is because we are expected to get over it and take care of things. The thing is, only people who haven't lost babies expect this of us. Those who have lost babies know that you can never get over it. So, it is highly unlikely that a mom in mourning will tell you how horrific her life has become- how she can't sleep or eat and all she can do sometimes- even months later- is cry. If she doesn't tell you that it is this bad, don't think that it isn't. Expect that it is and go from there. A mom in mourning may not ask for help- either because she is too upset or embarrassed to do so. She may also not want to bother anyone with her problems. Please reach out to a mom who has lost a child- don't wait for her to reach out to you. Call her- tell her that you are there for her and that she can tell you anything and you won't judge. Offer to get her out of the house- maybe take her out for lunch or to get her hair done or for a walk in the park. Don't just assume that she doesn't need you if she doesn't ask for your help. Don't assume that things are fine if she doesn't say otherwise. As mothers, we must support each other. As Catholics, we are commanded by Our Lord Jesus Christ to love each other. This means that we should care for each other and offer help and support to each other. This isn't something to be luke- warm about; this is a commandment! Jesus tells us what we do to the lest of His brethren, we do to Him. If we love Him as we should, then we must love others and treat others as if they were Jesus. Of course, we are also commanded to treat others as we would like to be treated ourselves. Think about what you would want if your child died- how would you like others to treat you? I have been ill and so I did not go to church yesterday. I went to the cemetery, though. I found that I could not pray the rosary but instead just had to talk to God using my own words. I also have become disgusted with the church, lately. One thing that disgusts me is the lack of Catholic community. As a Catholic, I believe that I should have had a faith community on which I could rely but didn't. No one bothered to care and, in fact, some women were just nasty. This hurt. It is one thing that every- day people let you down but a Catholic should be able to expect more from fellow Catholics. Be there for your fellow Catholics! Get to at least recognize people within your parish so that, when something looks out of place, you will notice and can offer assistance. Don't just go to Mass one day a week and then go home and wash your hands of your faith until the next Sunday (or Saturday)- be a live part of the Body of Christ. Take an interest in everyone who attends the Mass of your choice- don't just stick with your own little clique- this is not what we are commanded to do! If you see a mom who was pregnant one day and not the next- with no baby in arms- go to her! Don't avoid her or expect that someone else will comfort her. Go to her! Even if you are busy with your own life- go to her! The time you spend with her will be nothing compared to the time you have to spend on other things throughout the rest your life and it is nothing compared to time spent in Eternity after death! You may not just provide comfort but also provide someone experiencing doubt a reason to believe! You will have affirmed that we- as Catholics- stick together and that it means something to be a Catholic with other Catholics. Think about it: if anyone- just one person- had shown me the least but of kindness in my parish I would not be disgusted with the Church like I am now.

Sick and Bad News

So, now I am sick with some cold/ cough thing. It is no fun! It has wiped me out... Just a few minutes ago, I realized that we hadn't been to the cemetery in two weeks and remembered that I had planned on going today. I haven't been to see Barbara in so long! My husband is gone, though, and our phone isn't working so I can't call him to come back so that we can leave. I am hoping to drop off the kids because it is tough to go there with them; I never cry in front of them and I just really need to cry! The past week or so has been very tough. I feel like a much colder, more bitter and more angry person. A friend of mine from my past has now reentered my life and, although I am pleased, I am reminded of how I used to be and what dreams I had for myself and goals I had for my life. My life has taken a much different path than I ever thought imaginable and I am not the same person I used to be. I miss that person- so full of life and hope and dreams- that person was going somewhere and was full of potential. That person had something to offer while the person I am now does not. I feel very cold and dead in many ways. It dawned on me yesterday that I hold everyone at a distance- especially my kids because I know what it feels like to lose one and I never want to feel that way again. I know that I could lose anyone- my husband, my kids- anyone- at any time. The fact that I may lose my oldest child in some way to a custody arrangement only makes things worse. I don't think that things will ever get any better because, for years, they have only gotten worse. I have also put distance between myself and God. I am angry with Him and I feel very betrayed by Him. I feel abandoned, forgotten, unloved and hated. A friend of mine told me not to let the evil one lead me down a bad path but I think that if God cared, He would throw me a bone like a good master does for his dog every once in while. He doesn't, though, and things just get worse. I feel as if He has already given up on me, anyhow, and if this is the case then I am doomed, anyway. He has taken an enormous amount from me and has not listened to my pleading or the pleading of the saints I have chosen to ask for help. He has taken so much and has nor helped me much along the way. I understand that we are not supposed to look for happiness in this life but only in the next but when I am just not sure if there even is a next life and being unhappy in the life I know exists is a terrible thing. After the dream I had about Barbara, I have felt very messed up inside. I am dealing with this and the prospect of losing my oldest to some sort of custody arrangement with her idiot father... In addition, I am dealing with the prospect of losing any children I might have had through infertility. I was lucky enough to get in with the OB last week and she is concerned about adhesions from the postpartum D&C- my worst fear but something I have been sure was an issue all along. She advised me to get an HSG next month. I am worried that things are bad and can't be fixed. This is just how life is so I am expecting it. How I'll deal with it is beyond me. How I have dealt with anything is beyond me- I just do. I just get by... I am very tired in a way that is totally separate from any physical feeling of tired. In German one can say "Ich bin fertig" or- literally translated- I am finished. The meaning goes beyond "finished", though... it is like "absolutely done"... "exhausted"... Well, Ich bin fertig. I wonder what purpose I still am here to serve.

Life goes on... and on

Now I am sick. I have been caring for sick children for the past few days and now I am sick myself! I think that, if I was not so upset, I might not have gotten so sick... The truth it that I have been very upset. We mothers mourn, don't we? Sometimes I think that it is all we can do. It is our lot in life. I have been trying to keep in contact with God and have been thinking a lot about a good many things. The last few days have been terrible; "bad days", I would call them. Last night I thought about the fact that my child died. It seems like it happened to another woman and another child; I felt so distanced and removed from it all. It still seems impossible, sometimes, that I had a child that died. So many people have babies and they don't die. It sometimes just seems impossible that it should have happened to me. Then I had a dream that I was holding her body- as I had after she died- and she was coming to life. When she was very sick and everyone said that there was no hope, I saw her- little by little- coming to life. It was like that. I was holding her. We were in a tomb like Jesus must have been. She was beautiful and plump- like she was in real life and her little face was so sweet. I could feel her in my arms- she was warm and soft and it felt so right and so good to hold her. She was coming to life. She was becoming animated. I woke from this dream feeling confused. I remembered how I held her after she was dead and didn't want to let her go. It was really the first time that I could hold her since she was born and she was dead. I remember thinking that it was all I had left with her. When it was time to hand her over to the undertaker I didn't want to; I wanted her back. I started to fall over from the pain I felt in handing her over. It was more painful than a thousand labors. I know he put her in a black bag and onto the back seat where she was alone. I hate living when I have to remember these things. I hate living when I have dreams that she is alive. It is a sin to hate life; to curse the gift that God gave me. But it seems like a curse in and of itself to be alive at times. I am not sure about God, anymore, though. I don't know what to think. So much- too much is going on. My baby died, I can't have another and now my daughter's biological father wants to take her away from me. Will I lose all my children? Will I lose everything I love? Will there be nothing more to hope for- to hang on to but these awful memories? I have been praying for months. God hasn't heard or doesn't care. If there is really a God, He must hate me. Or maybe He loves me so much to allow for this sort of suffering so that when I die I can get to Him quicker... We aren't promised earthly happiness but does this mean that we are meant to be miserable? There are plenty of people who aren't miserable on earth and some of them will probably end up in heaven. I am supposed to be His daughter and He is supposed to be my Father but it seems like He has forgotten me. Sometimes it seems like to is just too much to live with the memories I have. Sometimes it hurts to live with the blame and I can't stop blaming myself. I feel alone as a person and as a Catholic. Is this what Jesus meant for us? I feel forsaken like He did as He was dying on the cross. Will there be an end to my mourning? Will things ever get better? I miss my baby. I want to hold her so badly. I want to tell her how much I love her and how profoundly her existence and death has changed everything. I want to be her mother like I never could be. I want her back. See? This is the gift that keeps giving; it never goes away. It is always there. Today I am praying for those who feel abandoned. I hope that we all come to feel the warmth of God's love and a renewal of faith despite whatever crisis we are dealing with.

Second- Class Female

As you know, I didn't go to church yesterday. As you also may know, my infertility consultation was cancelled last Friday. I didn't go to Mass primarily because I was sick of seeing all the pregnant women and hearing them brag. I was sick of feeling like I was less of a Catholic because I can't get pregnant. I was also sick of some other things but that is for my other blog... As Catholics, we are expected to welcome children into the marriage relationship. Although the modern Church does acknowledge the need for natural family planning in circumstances of poverty or sincere inability to afford and/or care for children (which, in my opinion, is abused, misunderstood and misused), those who attend the TLM tend to adhere to the ways of the old Church and many people who attend the TLM have large families and are always pregnant. Because we attend the TLM and our beliefs are more in- line with the old way of doing things, I truly feel terrible that I, too, can't always be pregnant and that my family- compared to others who attend the TLM- is small. Even the modern church has very little to say about infertility. The CCC outlines what we can and can't do as far as fertility treatments and it is treated like a cross- just like every hardship within the Church. Priests, although kind and caring, have no clue what to say to a woman who is experiencing infertility. My pastor told me that I should be grateful for the children I have and this only caused me to feel frustration and anger; it didn't deal with the real issue and only made me feel worse. It feels like I am the only Catholic women who is experiencing infertility... It also seems like it is just something that isn't talked about much and so I feel like I can't talk about it. It is like a dirty secret which leads me to think that there is something wrong with me because I am infertile. Usually things are kept quiet because they are bad therefore it seems like infertility is bad. It isn't enough that there are so many pregnant women who attend the TLM and so many large families but there are also a few women who are downright nasty about things. This only adds insult to injury. I truly feel like a second- class female within the TLM community. This does not do me- or my relationship with God- any good. So, I called to make an appointment at the OB/GYN today and was told that I would have to wait a month and a half to see the doctor. While this is better than waiting three months, like I did for the last appointment, it still makes me feel angry. I know that if I was pregnant, they'd find time for me but since I can't get pregnant, my needs aren't as important. So, I am a second- class female within the medical community as well. It seems that I am just not as good as other women everywhere I go! The situation I am in speaks to a real lack of empathy and understanding on the part of the OB/GYN office. Do they know what it is like to feel like crap every month because I didn't get pregnant? Do they know what it is like those two weeks between ovulation and menstruation? The waiting? The charting every single day- the worrying. Then, to find out that it didn't "work" again and just want to die- to hide from the world in bed crying. Baffled- wondering "why?" and not being able top get an answer because you can't get a stupid appointment. Do they know what it is like to get your period and then get online to research all that could be wrong... to feel fear and frustration because all you can do is take stabs in the dark because you can't find any help? To feel broken, depressed, less of a woman... They obviously have no idea what it feels like to go through this and, if there was another OB/GYN in the area that dealt with infertility issues, I'd go there... It also makes me wonder whether or not the docs in this practice are able to view women as individuals or just nameless, faceless things from which babies are (or can't be) extracted. Are women just things to them- a means to an end- a way to make a living or are we real human beings with hopes, dreams and fears? Are we mere statistics and low, medium or high- risk births? Scared or unscarred (as of yet)? Oh, there are so many things wrong with the world! I feel like a second- class female no matter where I am. I would expect, however, to feel equal within my own faith community because, after all, we are all supposed to be equal in the eyes of the Lord. Not so, apparently, in the TLM community of my parish.

Abstained from Mass...

So, I didn't go to church yesterday. Saturday night, I was still unsure if we should go; I know that I always tend to feel terrible when we don't go and so I was fairly certain that we would end up going. It turned out, though, that the kids got sick with a terrible cold and we could not find a sitter; therefore we just couldn't go. Looking back, there were times when I wanted to go so badly that I'd tell my husband to stay in the car with the sick kids while I went to Mass... It is so funny how my feelings have changed. Some people may think that it is the evil one putting thoughts into my head that cause me to feel like not going to Mass... I sometimes think that, too. But now I am not so sure. I believe in evil, for sure. I have seen it, participated in it and watched in silence as others fell prey to it. Most of the time, I can recognize it but not always. The thing about evil is that it preys upon our need to feel good. People base a lot of their decisions on feelings...what "feels" good. I don't mean feeling in the physical sense- I don't mean self- gratification because this almost always leads us to do evil and thus almost always has evil roots. What I mean is the warm and fuzzy feeling people can get that seems to come from deep within the heart; the feeling like one is really getting in good with God... like one is "almost there". There is no way of knowing whether or not this feeling should be trusted until the fruits of it are apparent. Good trees bear good fruit... Also, what is most comforting and comfortable may not be the best things for us spiritually. Sometimes when we get too comfortable with something, we take it for granted and can't see the bigger picture. Sometimes we feel so comfortable that we fall into a routine and forget about why we are doing it all to begin with. The point should be- always- to glorify God. Sometimes a little discomfort is needed to jolt us back into reality so that we can remember this. One thing that I love about the TLM is that it is steeped in tradition and is a vital part of our heritage as Catholics. The TLM is reverent and respectful of the Eucharist and this is the whole point of the Mass. It is more than a social event, or a show during which we watch the priest do his thing... It is all about the true sacrifice of the Mass and the Eucharistic feast. It is all about the awe and wonder we should have when we think about God and approach His Real Presence at the Eucharistic table. I can't help but want to drop down in my knees and feel true awe and fear when I participate in the TLM. Genuflecting has become a compulsory honor when it used to feel so contrived. At the same time, though, I feel as if I have lost something because my focus has been on the Mass itself rather than on my relationship with Christ. I have become too comfortable and have not been really maintaining my relationship with God. Yesterday I felt closer to God than I have felt in a long time. Saturday night, I was angry with God. I kept asking "why?" I really felt like there was no point believing anymore. I am not saying that I am still not angry with God- I am. I am not saying that I fully understand Him now because I don't. I just feel a sense of calm and peace, now, when I think about God. I feel as though I have really been communicating with Him constantly by just saying (in my head) what I feel and think. Usually, after Mass, I feel like something is lacking- like there is something I wanted to find but didn't. I haven't found it yet but I have to say that I do feel better. On a superficial note, it probably helped not to have seen tall he pregnant women and hear some of them bragging after Mass... ! Also, because we didn't go to Cleveland, we didn't go to the cemetery. Usually, this makes me pretty upset! I don't know... As Catholics we are obligated to go to Mass and so I know that I have sinned in not going. It is probably an even bigger sin because I don't regret it and would do it again. I used to think that God gives us lots of crosses, some big and some small. I used to think that, if going to Mass made me miserable then it was just a cross to bear. Still, despite my infertility situation, I did not cry at all yesterday. I didn't feel at all like crap- which is how I tend to feel after Mass. So, now I have more questions... If St. Francis were alive, I'd love to speak with him...!

Questions

I don't know what God does and does not put into action. There is a lot to be said for free will and our ability to choose right from wrong and then suffer the consequences. Sometimes, when people are going through a rough time they will wonder what they have done to be punished by God. In some cases, it is obvious that there are consequences to our actions and that these consequences are just that rather than any sort of punishment. Sometimes we can even see a direct link between our actions (A) and the consequences (C) of our actions while sometimes we may have to search a bit harder to see how A brings forth C. For 10 months, now, I have been trying to figure our what I did to bring forth the death of my child. I have also been trying to figure out what I could have done differently in order to save her life. Then I see all the baby graves at the cemetery and I wonder what all these parents did wrong. Surely, they can't all have done something wrong and, even if they had, did their negative actions justify the punishment of losing a child? So, I begin to think that maybe it isn't about punishment. So why, then? Everyone who is religious tells me that there is a reason only we don't know it. What reason? My baby died after suffering terribly for four weeks. Why did I have to sit there and watch her suffer for four weeks only to lose her? It seems so pointless. She is dead- gone- it is like she never existed and no one knows about her. No one knows her name and that she ever existed. Her brief life seems like it was for nothing. Then, after she died, I was all alone. No one came to see me or call me. God did not bother to send anyone my way and I didn't lose faith. Now, there is the infertility issue. My life is full of ironies... So I made my appointment with the OB three months ago; I got the soonest available appointment and yesterday- 45 min. before the appointment, a secretary called to cancel because the OB was called to a delivery. OK. Let me just run this by you: the OB had to cancel an infertility consultation because she had to go to a delivery. Ironic? So, it will probably take three months to get another one. Meanwhile, I keep getting older and more bitter and my faith and hope are running out. I don't want to go to Mass anymore because of all the pregnant woman who will be showing off their bellies and loudly bragging. Some of them rarely go to church but when they do, they are the loudest and the ones who like to show off how holy they are. Yes, maybe being pregnant makes them more Catholic than me but maybe I just don't want to be Catholic anymore if this is how Catholics behave. I have to wonder if any of them have ever heard of modesty or humility... I never bragged when I was pregnant or showed off my belly. I knew very well that I was just a vehicle and, although it was an honor, it was not meant to be a source of pride for me. I knew that God was the true creator of all my children and I was just cooperating; the pride was not mine to have. I never would have made myself an object of attention merely because I was pregnant... I also knew that not every woman who was not pregnant wanted to be in that state and would never have wanted to make anyone else feel bad. The thing is that, if God gives us our children, then He must also choose not to give us our children. So, this is something He is not doing for me. He is choosing not to give me a child just like he chose to take Barbara from my arms and bring he to Him. I could take losing Barbara if I knew that I could have another child. The two- losing Barbara and my infertility- are connected in my mind and heart. The fact that my kids all share me as a mother links them all to me and me to them and them to each other. The fact that my arms still want a baby to hold only makes the connection between my loss and the inability to have more babies even stronger. It is ironic, too, that an injury resulting from the baby that died is preventing any future babies. How can I ignore this connection? What is God trying to tell me? Have I done something wrong? Am I doing something wrong? If so, can I make it right and how? Why do I have to deal with pregnant woman bragging at church? Can't God spare me even then? I am starting to think that maybe there is no God; this would explain the chaos behind everything and the seemingly endless end of bad things that happen for no reason. We are just randomly conceived, born and die. There is no God overseeing us, loving us, hearing our prayers... Or, if there is a God, He is cruel. He doesn't love all of us and He doesn't care about us. Maybe we are just a big joke to Him. He is cruel! How can we be expected to love someone who is so cruel? Someone who has offered no help and then kicks us when we are down? It isn't even as if I can go to a priest about this; all I ever hear is that this is the will of God and He has His reasons. Well, I have heard this so many times in the past 10 months that it has lost all meaning and truth for me. I have become desensitized to it. I also have to hear how I should just be grateful for the kids I have- as if I am not! The thing is that kids are all different, they are not all the same; they bring different things to the family. And being grateful for the kids I have can't negate the pain I feel because I lost one and the anger, frustration and pain I feel because I can't have another one. Priests could really use some sensitivity training! In my last post I wrote about prayer and how I was sick of praying. Nothing has changed. I am still sick of praying just like I would be sick of asking anyone for something and never getting it or talking to someone who repeatedly does not listen. I am sick of dealing with someone who obviously does not love me or care for me. I have realized that what I do doesn't matter; I am just screwed in God's eyes. I have hoped and I have prayed for the intercession and guidance of the Saints and they all don't hear me. I don't want to lead anyone astray but I have to be honest and write what is going on in my head and my heart. Maybe there is someone else out there who feels like I do and maybe if they read this, they will know that they are not a freak. I feel like a freak because I am all alone. No one understands. My husband just gets mad at me and yells at me. He can't ever understand and he never will. I have learned that I can't cry in front of him or tell him how I feel. I can't tell my friends because they just tell me that God has His reasons and this just makes me so mad! I guess I am just sick of feeling so angry. I am so angry with God and everyone I know. I don't know why God kept me alive and took Barbara; I can only imagine because He likes inflicting pain upon me. The kind thing would have been to take me as well. When I pray, now, the only thing I can say is that I am so tired of living and I just want to be taken now. There is nothing that is able to take this pain away and if God really loved me He would know how I suffer. I won't go to Mass tomorrow. I don't want to see the pregnant women and hear them bragging. I am not even sure if I want to be Catholic anymore because no one from my faith community has attempted to be there for me and now all they are doing is adding to my grief. Christians aren't supposed to behave this way. I have no doubt that the Church is good but I also think that so many of its members have lost their way and don't behave the way a good Christian should behave and I am thinking that I don't want this in my life. I am thinking that it doesn't help me to be a good Christian and it sets a poor example for my kids. I am not even sure if I want to have God in my life anymore, either. I want to take all of my religious pictures and statues and burn them. I want to take my rosaries and break them all because they mean nothing to me anymore. You may say that I am a terrible person or that I have failed in God's eyes. I wouldn't care anymore because He has failed me so may times; He could not even see fit to bring me comfort over the past 10 months. I just feel like a terrible mother because I have been raising my kids to love God and now I don't want anything to do with Him. I don't even know if there is a God. Maybe Barbara is just dead and rotting in the ground; maybe this is the ultimate end. I have been crying for help from God and He hasn't heard. Either he hates me or doesn't exist. And if there is a reason for all this, I dislike Him even more because He took my baby and won't give me anymore solely because He has his reasons- regardless of my pain and suffering. I have been praying to St. Pio and, in my head, an image of his outstretched hand is reaching to me but I can just barely reach it. In the end, I am just too far away and can't grab his hand. I guess I just feel like this whole religion thing is a lost cause. Maybe I am lost cause; maybe the world is lost cause. We are not promised happiness in this life but does this mean that we are promised misery? We are told to expect eternal happiness but there is no proof that this exists so why bother looking ahead to this while living a completely miserable life? I have cried to God and Mary, the mother of Jesus, for help and pity and no one has heard. Maybe it is all made up. I would be happy with someone calling- just once- to tell me that they are here for me; someone who won't judge... I could deal with everything else if I just had that. But for 10 whole months, I have been alone. I am only human and there is only so much I can take and I have had it! I wish I had answers for other people. I wish I could make other people feel better and tell them that there is a God who cares bur I can't anymore. I am so sorry.