Trying to Keep the Faith

I used to think I had a strong faith in Christ.

I used to think that I've been through SO MUCH in this life, and through it all, I was able to rely on my faith, and the Father in heaven.

I even had a tattoo put on my back based on 1 Corinthians 13 (verse 13 in particular), "faith, hope and love"...to remind me of the three gifts God has provided to get us through life. I got the tattoo with my best friend Julie (we got matching ones). Julie and I had searched for months for something to symbolize our faith, and our friendship...something God gave us, and that we were truly thankful for.

The major point in my life where I learned to trust in God and rely on Him, was when my father was facing some serious legal charges. That was YEARS ago now (9 going on 40), and looking back I remember not even being able to breath...it was so hard watching my father slip away and my mother trying so desperately to keep him. God worked wonders in my dad then. He worked wonders in my relationship with my father then as well.

Since then, my dad has become my very best friend.

Looking at THAT time in my life, I can say that God did good. It was difficult, but I would go through it again and again, because the outcome brought me closer to my father than I had ever been. Up to that point in my life, I wasn't aware of my father. I didn't think much of him, as I didn't think he really thought that much of me. Through that harsh time, God showed me how much I truly loved my father, and how much we needed each other.

Every hour for five months, I prayed. I prayed that God would get my dad through another hour, get all of us through another hour. God literally carried my dad, mom and I through it all. He breathed for us, He held us up as we walked, He spoke for us, He was very present. I had never in my life felt that close to God...it was as if he was right beside me, holding my hand, my dad's hand, my mom's hand, the entire time. I could almost feel his breath...that close.

That point in my life was where I began my journey with God. His Word was my oxygen; prayer was my peace; I had life in me.

Two years ago, I came face to face with depression. Even through the darkness, God was still my oasis. I prayed long, and I prayed hard. I still believed in the good of God. I still believed in faith and hope. God carried me through that too. I didn't think so during it, in fact I thought God was punishing me for something I had done. I thought he was done with me, that I had just become worthless to him. BUT, I still prayed...and my faith was still present...a little tarnished... but there. I relied on the little pieces of it that I had, because without it, I knew I wouldn't get through any of it. God sent me angels who fought the long hard battle with me, and with them I was always able to pray and able to see the light at the end.

Then this happened.

I didn't think I had wanted the pregnancy to begin with. I was scared out of my mind. Mostly due to my depression. Terrified of another bout of postpartum...terrified that this time I wouldn't survive...that I wouldn't turn back and come home like I did the first time. I forgot about God in it all. I mean, I knew He was there, and I knew, deep down somewhere, that God would take care of me, but I was still terrified. I am only human after all.

I found out at 4 weeks and was miserable. I cried for two weeks. At 10 weeks I was totally in love. Scared still, but in love and happy...so happy. At 13 weeks (and one day), the baby was removed. Actually, the doctors tell us that the baby died at 5 weeks and four days....so, when I was in shock, mad at myself for being so stupid with the birth control pills, before I fell in love, I had already lost the baby...but my body kept up with the pregnancy...I had morning sickness up to week 9, my belly was even showing a bit...but the baby was already dead. I feel like I've been scammed...by God.

Why would he give me life, take that life away from me, but not let me know it until I was already in love with it? This is where my faith is gone. This is where my belief is gone. This is where I blame God...yell at him...if he was in front of me, I would be giving him the finger! I try so desperately to not fall into this trap. Trying to keep my faith alive. I try to remind myself of all the other struggles, how in the end, God made it all better...but it's not working. I tell myself everything that everyone who doesn't know what else to say would say:

"God has a purpose, we don't know what it is, and we may never know, but trust in him"

"God is crying with me"

"God didn't do this"

"We don't know what is best for us, God does, so trust in that".

Let's also not forget how in the last three days I have seen more pregnant women than I care for. That as I sat in my OB's office on Wednesday, losing my child, I had to sit there with a dozen happy pregnant women, and two idiot sets of parents. That on Thursday as I sat waiting for my operation, I got to watch one woman leave her 3 month old alone in a not-so-safe area, while she went off looking for her boyfriend...outside; got to watch another pregnant woman go out for a smoke in between her contractions; and another "child" talk about that "hot guy" on the phone to her friend...while she was waiting to be induced. I also got to run into a woman in the midst of her contractions as I was walking out of the hospital after having my child taken from me. God likes to kick us in the ass...that was all I could think about. Not "God is Good", God is kicking me in the ass and kicking me hard.

In all the other "hard" times, I was able to pray. Prayer is what got me through it. The difference is that during this time, I can't pray. I've tried, but my mind wonders off into the "why" zone, and before I know it, I am too pissed off to pray. For the first time in my life, I feel like prayer isn't going to do it this time. I can't bring myself to my knees. I can't even think about it really...I just get mad. If God really answered prayer, then why was I at my prenatal appointment on Wednesday confirming my D&C instead of hearing my baby's heartbeat? If God really answered prayer, then why do I hurt SO MUCH? If God really answered prayer, then why am I MORE confused now about adding to my family then I was three months ago? If God really answered prayer, then why isn't my friend holding a baby of her own tonight, and why am I crying that I can actually understand her pain?

I don't think I have that strong of a faith anymore.