What's Wrong Part II

Continued...



I tested God, and He failed me. I KNEW He would let me down. I knew we couldn't have a "peaceful" life like other families. The shoe fell, and it fell hard in every way imaginable. When He knew I was already weak, He had the nerve to hit me where He KNEW would hurt me the worst because my biggest fear is losing a child.



I used to be stronger. I used to be one of those Christians who clung to God in prayer and read my Bible professing to all that God would see me through it. And He did. That still didn't stop me from being angry that He didn't/wouldn't spare my child from a heart defect.



And it didn't matter that He had seen me through other trials or that at least my child could potentially be helped by having surgery. On prayer lists I was praying for fatally ill children and parents who had lost a child. You would think that would make me more grateful, but that only added fuel to my fire of raging bitterness and anger with God. I still cannot fathom the suffering of those families, and I will probably always struggle with why so many families have to suffer the loss of a child or parent of young children.



Anyway...for Lindley...I tried to remain faithful. I felt like I was in a war with God over her life--that He would only get her through the surgery if I had the faith that He would. I had already failed at having the faith that she would be cured without surgery, so I felt like I definitely couldn't throw what faith I had left out the window before the surgery. There's no logic to my thinking and no decent excuse for my religious views. I could see it even then, but that's another story.



Lindley made it through the surgery and had successful results. Following my line of thinking from before, one would assume I'd give God the credit for protecting her. I did say I was grateful that God used surgeons and medical science to heal her, and I meant it, but WOAH was I pissed!



I've spent the last year fuming. My internal anger has been through the roof as has my outward anger at times. This past year has been a year of existing, questioning, cursing, venting, blaming, excuse making, and just plain awfulness. For the most part I don't take it out on my kids, but there are times I have. I don't know how I make up for that other than pull them close and reassure them from here on out.



I can't even begin to measure what I've put Ironman through. I could have just come out and said, "If you were a better person, and if I were a better person, OUR BABY WOULDN'T BE ON AN OPERATING TABLE GETTING HER CHEST SPLIT OPEN RIGHT NOW!" I don't think it would have helped to confess that thought to Ironman, but my behavior was just as bad or worse. He probably already knew I felt that way anyway. Here's to hoping he was as oblivious about my thoughts then as he seems to be about house projects now. That was my attempt at humor. (I'm sorry for everything, Pickle.)



Question my sanity if you'd like. I have. Many times. I'm starting to realize that what I say to myself in my head is often irrational. What I say out loud to myself is totally rational. Just kidding. If I've been talking out loud to myself, I haven't noticed.



As I was saying, I've spent the last year angry and generally discontent wondering if I was depressed but convincing myself I wasn't because I'd have days or weeks where I felt fine. And then I'd be fed up again---crying in private a lot more than I felt was normal (at least for me). I'm not entirely sure what that was, but I assume it was a combination of life mixed with unresolved issues mixed with hormones (pregnancy and otherwise). I wasn't necessarily unhappy, just discontent with some things and restless. Very restless. Spiritually empty. I almost never prayed, and that's not like me.



Actually, I've been wondering where I went. The summer I originally decided to hold my breath and wait for the other shoe to fall was the summer I lost myself. I've been struggling to feel comfortable in my skin ever since. Not so much comfortable, I guess, as simply feeling like the Jennifer I had always been. Ever heard of "fake it 'til you make it?" That's me. Faking being Jennifer until I come back into her again.



I don't know what brought it about, or if it's been coming about slowly, but the anniversary of Lindley's surgery brought up a flood of emotions that left me feeling....of all things...content. Once again, I'm holding my breath a little. I'm worried this is a temporary hormonal high that I'll crash from soon. But I don't think so this time. I feel joy again, and I didn't realize that was what I'd been missing until it came back. Maybe joy is the wrong word because I've felt happiness all along...especially when Faith came into the world. I see the irony in that sentence.



I feel so grateful to have hope in faith and my spiritual relationship with God that I'm praying again. My most frequent prayer is that I don't lose ground on the progress I'm making personally. If you've ever really been depressed for a long period of time, you might have experienced the desperation you feel to hang onto "feeling normal" again if you've naturally or medicinally become stabilized. I feel that desperation to hold onto my contentment and inner peace. I never wanted to be separated from God. It just happened through my own fault or whoever else I can blame. ;)



I'm learning some interesting things in the book I mentioned. I hope to find the time to share it with you because I think it speaks to most women in today's world. If any of you pick up a copy, let me know. I'd like to know what you think.