Right now, I feel like the hapless heroine in some terrible, generic action movie. You know the sort; she's kidnapped by the bad guy, tied up and dangled over a cliff. The lantern jawed hero appears to save her and while he and the villain wrestle manfully, the rope holding her frays and breaks fibre by fibre. Just as it seems she is doomed, the hero manages to rid himself of the villain and grabs her hand just as the last thread holding her up twangs. *sigh*
I've never considered myself helpless or hapless but right now my faith in God, in me, in a universe that makes sense is hanging by a single thread and I'm not sure there is a waiting hand to catch me.
I go back to life before and I remember that for 30 years I have lived my life a certain way. I lived that way because I believed - absolutely, whole-heartedly in the tenets of my Christian faith. Belief on the sidelines wasn't an option. What I believe needs to have an impact on how I live, otherwise it's just hypocrisy. Christianity does not point the way to paradise in this lifetime. I was never promised an easy ride. In that sense no-one lied to me.
I always listen to the news headlines as I make breakfast for my family. I believed and wept and prayed as I listened to the news on 9/11, as the radio turned out details of genocide in Rwanda or the horrible abuse cases that have made the news here recently. I hurt when I heard those things but I never questioned my belief in an omnipotent, loving God. I might not have had the answers but I accepted the fact that I didn't ... and then my baby died. My long anticipated, prayed over baby was born without breath and my soul was shredded. I still don't have any answers but now that it's personal, I'm angry. Like I said in my last post, inside I'm 4 and I'm having a big ole' temper tantrum here.
For the last 8 weeks of my pregnancy, I did a hypnobirthing programme a few times a week. I'd lie on my side and listen to the gentle words on the CD. I'd imagine myself and my baby bathed in a golden light. I would modify it - the light, for me, was the light of God's love and I'd picture my little one and myself enfolded in a peaceful, warm place in the shadow of the cross - the central image of my faith. I would speak a variety of pregnancy affirmations. My favourite was a Bible verse, "For I know the plans I have for you, ... plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." (Jeremiah 29.11) My hopes for the future were utterly bound up in the safe arrival of my child. Right now, that verse sticks in my throat. It seems the height of arrogance and foolishness to think that there was a plan (mine, God's or the universe's) I'm not unharmed and I don't feel prospered or hopeful. The fibres of the rope of my faith are thin and pulled taut. I don't know how much longer they'll bear the strain.
Our newest family member arrived a couple of days ago. He hasn't has the easiest transition earthside. He came a little early and is needing a bit of help to regulate his temperature. I have been asked to pray for him - I haven't. Not because I wish him harm. I don't - the exact opposite in fact. I love him. I love his mummy and daddy. I want my nephew to grow healthful & vibrant, surrounded by people who love him. I haven't prayed because I prayed as hard as I knew how for Emma and it didn't work. It. didn't. work. I'm frightened to pray for him because my prayers might actually be toxic. They might make him worse not better.
I've settled for sending positive vibes but it's a pale imitation of what I used to be able to offer.
12 comments:
Your words rang so true and sound so familiar that I felt them down to my bones, inside my soul. I feel that same strain and I'm still waiting for a super hero to save me that will never come.
*hugs* to you my new blog buddy.
Jill - your post is so true and heartfelt. It's so hard not to question our faith when we are forced to face such horrendous experiences.
I will be thinking of your nephew and sending warm, positive love his way.
xo
I used to believe too. I believed in all all-knowing, all-present, all-powerful God. Then I had a daughter who died and a son who died. I prayed and prayed and prayed. 100's if not 1000's of people prayed for my son - but he still died. So now I don't believe any more.
I'm pregnant with my third child. When I told my mother of my pregnancy she said she would pray to God that it would be part of his plan that this child would live. I was furious.
That's not the faith that I used to have.
I know the fear of being jinxed. My friend had her baby girl less than two weeks after my boy was stillborn.
I babysat for her a good few times, and every time the little girl went to sleep I was mortified she wouldn't wake up again. I was terrified my bad luck would spill over in some way.
xx Ines
I'm not religious and wasn't before I entered the club but I did have a faith in me for something out there beyond this earth as we know it. I still have that faith but I don't rely on it as much as I used to.
I think for people who do believe in God and have something so devastating happen to them it must be crushing to have to try and reconcile your belief system with what has happened.
Despite my Catholic upbringing I never bought into the all powerful, universe controlling God. I never felt that God, if real, micromanaged earth with a "Plan". Too many horrific things happen on this earth to believe it for me. But then again, when the shit rained down on me I still had two thoughts. Why does God hate me? And, Why shouldn't bad shit happen to me, why not me?
I guess in the end the only thing left to believe in is ourselves.
Hang in there.
xxoo
Oh Jill. Like I said in my PM earlier - it's so easy for us to comfort others and be hard on ourselves. I know exactly what you mean and all I can do is send you some huge *hugs*.
Just want to send you some hugs Jill. :)
I am sorry... thank you for sharing this deeply personal information, that a lot of people may be afraid to say outloud. The only comfort in any of this loss I find, is that they are only gone from here, which is such a brief part of our existence. I am sorry that you are stuggling, and I'll be thinking about you.
I wasn't religious before I became pregnant, but suddenly with this amazing being growing inside of me, I started to feel more spiritual. While Lachlan was struggling to live, my husband and I prayed (something neither of us had done in years), as did so many others, and he still died. I'm finding it hard to understand how a God could hurt such innocent little babies. Thank you for your post.
I lost my baby 3 weeks ago to still birth. Your words are exactly what I feel.
As C S Lewis wrote
"You never know how much you really believe anything until its truth or falsehood becomes a matter of life and death. It is easy to say you believe a rope to be strong as long as you are merely using it to cord a box. But suppose you had to hang by that rope over a precipice. Wouldn't you then discover how much you really trusted it?"
My rope was not particularly strong to begin with, even when I was merely using it to cord a box. When my daughter died, when I needed the rope the most, it broke. I don't know if it is beyond repair.
I've been told a number of times that my surviving daughter's life is a testament to the power of prayer. But it doesn't make sense. Were my prayers for her sister not sufficient, not fervent enough? Were your prayers for Emma not enough? I don't understand, I feel bewildered. Perhaps it is only random, chaotic biology. None of it means anything at all. But a part of me doesn't accept that explanation either. It feels too simplistic. Or perhaps too frightening.
I don't think your prayers can be toxic Jill. If they are, life or God or whatever makes even less sense then I currently imagine.
Sending positive vibes to you in abundance and a prayer or two if I can muster the heart for them xo
just wanted to say that i have struggled so much with my faith, belief and trust since my son's death. i prayed for his conception and prayed for his good health, and felt very blessed. now i feel betrayed and angry by the god i thought was watching over us.
i can relate...and i'm with you.
xo
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