Saturday, September 12, 2009

A Good Person

Alas, my friends, Something I'm Not, especially these days is... a good person.

I don't FEEL like one, anyway.

I hate going to Sunday school.

And my hubby's birthday is tomorrow, and I'm angry as all getout. I want to give him a living child who can call him Daddy.

We have Care Groups in our Sunday school class. They are smaller groups where we share prayer requests. We used to have ones to add periodically - I'm beginning injections for this round of IVF, please pray for the egg retrieval, yes they are taking multiple eggs out of my ovaries, which is why I'm in such a good mood (not!) right now, pray for the embryo transfer, pregnancy test next week. We no longer have prayer requests that we can mention. Something along the lines of "Help! We're desperately broken! I cry myself to sleep. I can't sleep. I want to stop living..."

But I won't stop, because He won't stop. Jesus loves me so much, so I ask Him - breathe into me. I am nothing. But You are everything.

A few weeks ago, a couple in our care group announced their pregnancy. I should be praising God for them. Their story is incredible. They lost twin boys at 19 weeks gestation a few months ago to Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome. I was furious at God for them when this all happened, and our Sunday school class was floored. They cooked meals for them. We all lifted them up in prayer. Just wouldn't you know it, I was sitting next to her when she announced this subsequent pregnancy to the whole class, maybe 25 couples.

I tried to smile, and say how wonderful. But my face has always been more honest than I would prefer. I was crushed. Dear hubby said, we can't expect them to cater to us. This is true. But all I could think was, God this is how much You love them... and how much You don't love us.

Like I said, I'm not a good person.

In my heart, I want all the good things for them. But I can't touch what that might mean in my mind, lest I drop down into what is missing in my own life.

Another couple in our Care Group is adopting from China. They are there right now receiving their daughter. We hear continuous updates from her best friend, who incidentally, lost a baby herself at around 20 weeks to Anencephaly (lack of brain formation). Our class has been hit in the baby department, there is no doubt. But I feel all alone.

I didn't go to the hospital to deliver my (dead) babies. But 2 D&Cs after our miscarriages took them from my womb. When I walk into class, only once (praise God) has someone asked how I am doing. No one offers to make us meals. No one remembers the pain.

I sound self-absorbed, and I am. But I won't always be here. I won't always be grieving this much. But I'd like to not feel stuck here.

I believe that God is keeping me in this place because I need the rest. Though sometimes I can do anything but that. I exercise until I'm exhausted. I stay late at work to avoid going home. The weekend, which should make me glad, causes me anguish as I have time to recall the life I'd like to be living (family time with children). I awake in the middle of the night for hours sometimes. I feel like I am wasting the most precious years of my life - or more accurately, that they are BEING WASTED for me.

Anger is my little buddy. Oh yes, he's my stuffed snuggle bunny who I fall asleep with at night, and carry in my arms by day. I try to lay him down, but he's so... snuggly. I keep praying and laying him down, only to find him back in my arms again. And on top of it all, my parents are just no help.

That's a very long story for another post. Suffice it to say, my parents are Christians, praise God, but they are not able to be the role models and friends that I need in this journey. There are many reasons for that, but alas. I leave them at your feet, Jesus.

Until later, dear friends.

1 comment:

  1. I so often relate to the things that you write. Thanks for your honesty here. You're right -- it's hard to find support after an early pregnancy loss. You might have it at first, for a week or two after a miscarriage, but years later, people think we must be okay by now. But there's still no child in our homes. We still feel empty and we still grieve.

    I know it's a helpless and lonely place to be. Please know that you aren't alone. And I say you ARE a good person -- a good person who is hurting and may not quite be herself for a while. And that's understandable.

    Hugs & prayers to you.