"I will praise the one who's chosen me, to carry you"
-Selah: I will carry you

Wednesday 27 February 2013

The thorny subject of unanswered prayer

Disclaimer: this blog is my space to process what I am going through, what I am feeling and my way of trying to make sense of it. It is in no way meant to offend, dictate or spark religious debate.   You may find this helpful, or not. You may agree whole heartedly, you may not. Whatever. This is me.

So as my regular readers will by now have grasped, I'm on something of a see-saw  Some days are very hard, my heart is heavy and my mind won't calm. Those days produce blogs like my last post. Other days, a whole load of people pile onto the other side of the see-saw to lift me back up- and often they don't even realise they have done it. The last couple of days have been like that, and I feel better. I have realised- importantly- that actually I don't need people around me who are going through exactly what I am right now.  Even if I found them, they wouldn't feel exactly what I feel, they wouldn't get me entirely- they are them, and I am me. What I need to do is appreciate the people around me who don't, and can't "get it" but who listen anyway, and then pile on the see-saw.  And then, there's God. The father who knows everything there is to know about me. He gets me.  But what's the point if He doesn't answer?

I'm reading a book on unanswered prayer- "God on Mute" by Pete Greig.  The author, like me, likes analogies.  At one point he talks about a baby with chicken pox. The baby is hurting, sick, upset, distressed. It doesn't understand what is happening and thinks that this pain is going to last forever. There's nothing the parent can do to make it understand that the pain will pass, they will be better and actually, it is far better for them to have chicken pox now than later on. Instead, the parent sooths the child with calamine lotion, and hold it closely in their arms until the sickness passes.  I am not so naieve as to believe that one day this will all be over, that my Bertie pain is not with me for life, but I still liked the analogy. The storm will pass, and until it does, I am being carried. Remember the footprints in the sand?  Of course, I'd rather He fixed things, calmed the storm, but I'll take what I can get at this point, and that is hope.

A quick google search on unanswered prayer brings a very mixed bag- from the judgemental "Your prayers are not answered becuase of unconfessed sin" to the irrelevant "you aren't getting what you ask for becuase you just want it for your own pleasure" I am not asking to win the lottery....well, in a way I suppose I am, but you know what I mean. Another offering is that it's all for "spiritual maturity" a way to bring you closer to God. Why should Bertie's life be the price to pay for my spiritual maturity?  Since he died, I have joined a housegroup, and I am more involved with church...I am doing the Alpha course. So, He got what He wanted huh?  No. I'm sorry, I just still cannot accept that viewpoint. I prefer the analogy that CS Lewis wrote in The Magician's Nephew:  A young boy who's mother is dying approached the lion Aslan, to ask for some magic fruit to save his mother. Aslan appears to ignore his request, until the boy looks into the lion's face and sees tears in his eyes.  Aslan is as upset by the situation as the boy, he is not ignoring the prayer for help, but does truly care.  This fits closer to my feeling that perhaps, God could not save my son. He was as upset by the tragedy as me,but powerless to stop it.*

Another google hit led me to another christan couple who lost their baby girl, also born very prematurely. They are now very busy with their church and have decided that God's plan in their daughter's death was that had she lived, and been very disabled, they would not have had the time to do all the ministy they do. I'm sorry, but what??? Do they honestly believe God values their preaching above their daughter's life? Becuase I do not. No matter where my life takes me now, nothing I do in the future could be worth more than my son's life. Why should he lose his life to allow me to fulful some higher plan? I do not know why my prayers for Bertie, and those of countless others, were not answered, but I am certain that it was not through God's decision for him to die in order for me to come to some point in the future. If that were the case, why allow me to conceive him in the first place? A loving God would not knowingly decide to waste a new life, to put me through this pain, surely?

And now, my new prayers go unanswered.  I am not sure if God is powerless to give me a rainbow or not.  Surely, if He is not in control of who lives and who dies, He is not in control of who gets a baby and who doesn't either? I realise I am trying to apply human logic to a situation far above that, but hey, I'm human. So I wonder, is He listening but saying no? Is He saying not no, but not yet? Does He see the bigger picture and will I one day look back and realise that it was better that this storm raged a while longer? Truth is right now I have no idea.  If He is making me wait for a reason....why is the time right for so many others and not for me?  What do I have to learn that they didn't? Why is the time right for the 15 year old and the drug addict and the abusive parents and not for me?  Why does my faith need to be so tested, when others with no faith at all get an easy ride?

A wise and very good friend said to me, perhaps you are just not ready...perhaps this affected your body and soul more deeply than you realise? Maybe she is right... Hmm. Much as I hate the "you're too stressed" advice....much as I will always respond with people have babies in war zones/within a year of stillbirth/as a result of rape.......somehow it now sits better to think that than to believe that God just doesn't want me to be a mum.  Because if I just haven't been ready...then there is at least hope that I will be ready.  Of course, in my heart and soul I am more than ready, I am a mum already, and that is what makes the waiting so hard.  To me, the time was right 18 months ago. 

So there we are, and I am no closer to an answer.  But I am closer to hope, and I guess that is an answered prayer in itself.

Jeremiah 29:11

"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.


*I do realise this viewpoint is theologically wrong- after all, we know that God is all powerful, right? To diminish God's power to make myself feel better is not really what a good Christian should be doing. I know that. But until someone can give me a better explanation, at least this way of thinking allows me to continue in a relationship with God.  War, murder, the holocaust...these things happen because of human actions. Humans have free will, God is not a master puppeteer and we are not pawns in some colossal game of chess are we? But here I am talking about biology, nature....act of God? Does God really decide to randomly massacre thousands of people with earthquakes, tsunamis and drought? Or, did he create the world, and decide to take a back seat....wind it up and watch it go? One day, I will get to Heaven, see the face of God and no longer need to ask. Right now, I am on Earth, I am human, I am going through the worst grief imaginable and I need to search for a reason for it all. It's the fundamental problem of human suffering with a God who is supposed to be both all powerful, and all loving.

Monday 25 February 2013

Sometimes I feel so very alone

Nobody understands me. That's how it feels. Nobody has the words, some try, some don't. Some avoid the subject, some carelessly discuss the latest birth announcement at work as if I want to hear it. That makes 9 by the way, since he died. 9 babies, so far.  Last spring/summer I went through all the pregnancy announcements, now I'm going through the birth announcements, and oh yeah, I'm still not pregnant. And it's really, really hard.  Every time I'd tell myself, by the time the baby comes, it will be your turn....and every time I was wrong.  I've run out of pep talks now. And yet, apparantly "I'm so strong". As if I have a choice. As if I'd choose this. 17 months, going on 18 months, of agony. Of masks, of "I'm so happy for you" ....I'm so sad for me.

People have stopped saying "these things take time" and have started saying "have you considered adpoption?". Ouch. I used to be one of those people.....I will never, ever say that to a woman again. Oh my it hurts. Of course I've considered adoption....I'm not ready.

I am happy for them all, of course I amI am just so tired of it. And bitter. And jealous. And I hate myself for it one day, then refuse to hate myself for it the next. I have a big enough boulder on my heart without hating myself for normal, natural, human feelings.  This isn't me, it just doesn't sit right to be so bitter.....and yet, here I am.  I could cope with the fertility issues, it would be hard, but it is so much harder on top of grief. I want to yell from the top of Grief Mountain IT ISN'T FAIR!!!! Why is this happening to us? Haven't we been through enough? When's it our turn? I honestly don't know how much more I can take, before I break, before I fall back down into The Pit.

Already broken. I'll break again. How many times can you fold a piece of paper? There's a limit. How many times can you break a woman's heart? I wonder what the limit is......

Sunday 24 February 2013

Should we redecorate the nursery?

The things I think about. It's crazy, I am not even pregnant yet and yet this question is very much on  my mind.  As you know, Bertie's room is still how we left it the weekend he was born, we never felt able to take it all down, and as the months have turned into over a year, it is now very much Bertie's room. It has been added to with things made for him and bought for him. His memory box is in there, his wooden train, our Oglet.  All the clothes and bits and bobs are away in drawers......it will be a lucky dip when we delve in one day to see what we have. That day will come, we hope, and a decision will need to be made.

Do we change it? Ok, we can tell ourselves that baby number two would have hand me downs and would use Bertie's things.  Of course they would.....but baby number two would not have used that room....we would not be having baby number two until we could move to a bigger house, there just wouldn't be the room, so that argument doesn't work really.

Hand-me-downs. How does that work when he never got to use them?  Because he didn't get to live, I am very protective over his things, the few things he does get to have. How can I give them to the next child? Some things will have to be of course, we can't keep the furniture for example, store it forever and buy more, that's crazy..... but the truth is, I don't think I could get my head around associating that room with a living baby. Not the room as it is anyway.  I think we have to redecorate,  make it different, move the furniture around.  I want the next child to know they are not a replacement, that we got excited about painting their room the same as we did for their brother.  Only it won't be exciting this time will it? Not in the same way. It will be sad. Can I paint over his room, can I obliterate the memories? I know I will have to do it, one day we will move, one day a rainbow will come, one day his room will be gone forever. But there won't be a new room for him, and that is still so hard to accept.

In some ways,  it would be easier if we could move house before the nursery is needed again, that way we wouldn't have to physically paint over it, we could just say goodbye to it and not have to do that ourselves.  A new house, a new nursery, a new baby.....no. The pain would be the same.  What to do. I guess it is a bridge we will have to cross when the time comes. If the time ever comes.

Friday 22 February 2013

The things I am grateful for (CBT 7)

It's been a while since I did a CBT post. That's becuase I haven't been working on it so much, becuase I haven't felt the need to so much, which is good I suppose.  However this week I have needed to revisit it, as another pregnancy test is negative,  as another hope is dashed, as we take the next step on our journey, asking for more help.  As the road ahead of us looks longer not shorter.  So, after wading through a few pages of things that are just not relevant to me any more (clearly I am less depressed than I was, good), the next task for me is to list the things I am grateful for.  Apparently it should  help me to refocus and stimulate good chemicals in my brain. So here we go.

I am grateful for my husband, who quietly, steadfastly stands by my side and walks this journey with me.  He doesn't say much, but he never gets it wrong. He listens when I worry, holds me when I cry, reassures me when I feel like a failure. He misses Bertie too, he talks about him too. He wants another child too, as much as me. He alone knows and shares my pain.  I often look at our wedding photo now and remember making our vows for better or worse. How innocent we were. We had no idea what we were to face, how much we would long for more better and less worse.  I am so grateful to have him.

I am grateful for my family, who remember and miss him too, who talk about him and try to keep me going through my dips and falls.  My parents would move the earth to see me happy again, if only they could.

I am grateful for my friends, near and far, who listen even when they can't help. The ones who check in on me now and then to make sure I am ok, the ones to try to help me stay positive, but who understand when I don't feel it. The ones who really want to know the answer to "how are you today?" And who are not bored with the response.

I am grateful for my job. I am lucky, I love my job. Not many people get to say that. Honestly it is keeping me sane some days and is a great distraction. It pays enough to allow me a few treats when I need them, and secure enough that I don't live in fear of losing it. In this climate, really that is amazing.

I am grateful for my colleagues, who were so understanding when Bertie died, and made my return to work so much less difficult than some people I have spoken to.

I am grateful for my cat, Pippa. She makes me smile every day and fulfils my need to care for something.  She has had a tough 18months or so too and I am so glad we found each other.

I am grateful for my faith, and the certain knowledge that I will be with him again. For being carried through the storm, even when I protest that surely it would be better to calm the storm now?

I am grateful for my son.  Bertie gave me the happiest time of my life, and no matter what the future holds, I had that.   I cherish memories of his first kick, the day he got hiccups, the day I got to balance a cup on my bump, how well I felt whilst pregnant, how much I was looking forward to him being born...meeting him.  I wish it didn't stop there.

I am not sure this has had the desired effect.  This is just the "it could be worse" style of positive thinking.  The trouble is,  none of it makes up for it does it?  It's the consolation prize, the things I got becuase I didn't get him, and the things I'd have had anyway.  I don't take them for granted, but if Bertie had lived, I'd have my husband and family and friends anyway wouldn't I. And I'd be happy, properly happy, not happysad. Not "be grateful for what you do have" happy, not paint on a smile happy. Just Happy.


Tuesday 12 February 2013

Ode to the rollercoaster

Tears again, as I think of my lost son. Tears once more, I just want to be "mum".  Wondering if my turn has been missed. Wondering if I'm even on the list.

Try to be mindul, don't let these thoughts in. Turn it around, raise up your chin! Things will happen, in their own time....will they, will they? Will that joy ever be mine?

It's a snakes and ladders board, and I'm losing the game. I wonder how much longer I will have to play.  Baby steps forward, towards the massive goal. Baby steps forward.....and like a baby I fall. It should be my son taking those first baby steps, not me, not me, not again, not yet. One thing is bad enough, but the other? Trying to grieve, whilst trying to be a mother.  Too much to cope with, too much for my mind. And yet, I can't move on, I can't leave it all behind.

Nobody gets it, nobody knows. It's such a lonely, difficult road. Even those who were there, now drift away, I know they still care, but they don't know what to say.  What is wrong we me? What have I done, to deserve the life that this has become?

Tears. So many tears. Tears of grief for my little boy. Tears of frustration....I want tears of joy.

Monday 11 February 2013