Tuesday, September 14, 2010

fighting to stay open

that last post was a song by sara groves, the song I listened to repeat last night and laid in bed, fan blowing on my feet, crying my eyes out. there's something incredibly cathartic about just sobbing, making that "cow having babies" noise that makes everyone turn and run. there's something transforming about just letting it all out.

last night i laid my heart out to my aunt who has cancer. she served it back to me by saying, "trust God, just like you've been telling me, you've have to put it out there and trust God."

the problem is, I have trouble trusting God. These past two years of loss, hurt and heartache have been so painful. No clear way on how to proceed, everything in me just screams, "I've had enough already. I've had enough." I want to cry uncle, ask God why He has chosen me for this burden of infertility. Why I feel like I have to explain to people that I don't feel that our family is "complete", even though we have a boy and a girl and are the perfect "nuclear' family. I've been praying for over a year that if we are "complete"< that God would give me that feeling of contentment, or that I would learn to have it.

I am working toward that, I am working toward this place of complete surrender.

Did you know that surrender has to happen, again and again and again? You don't surrender something and it is surrendered forever. That's not the way of the human, at least. The human tendency is to pick it back up, stick it in the backpack, carry that load much longer and further than He ever intended us to carry it.

Agh...the tears are clogging up the keyboard. I am a mess.

World, I am a mess. How could God ever use this mess for anything?

Last night after our foster/adopt class Scott was talking to my parents about how there is so much that we don't understand, about how the parents seem to have free reign in coming to visit the children in our home, etc., and how he didn't want to open his home to anyone and everyone who thought they needed to be in our home to visit their kids.

And I agree, and I also wonder how I would be able to say goodbye to children we have had long-term in foster care. And my heart is leaning more heavily toward straight adoption.

And then I sat there, and this incredibly horrible feeling of RAGE swept over me. And I said, "I think the thinkg that makes me the angriest is that we have to think about all of these things...that we have to consider all of these possibilities, that I can't stop miscarrying babies, that for other people it's just a night in the bedroom and the decision is made. For us, it's 85 painful decisions."

That makes me SO angry, and I cried all night last night over it.

So, this is me being real.

I am angry, and broken, and hurting, and if you call me on the phone I will be fine in 10 minutes. And if you think I'm mentally unstable, good for you.

I KNOW this was all in his plan...birth defects, 5 miscarried babies, all of it. And maybe it would be easier to believe He didn't exist, to believe it was all just chance. But because I believe that He exists, I also have to swallow the fact that He let all of those things slip through His fingers, into my life.


Not having faith would be so much easier. Who are You, great Mystery? What do You want to show me? Why am I not seeing it?

I helped in Lucy's kindergarten class this morning. I nearly dissolved into saline as I watched her count her numbers and recite her letters. If there weren't 12 other children in that class and a teacher watching me, I would have snuggled her and kissed her and said, "You're my adorable little baby!" Before we left, she said, "Now, Mom, don't cuddle the other kids like you cuddle me." AND SHE WAS TOTALLY SERIOUS!

And last night, watching Asher sleep, kissing his sweet cheeks...so much blessing I don't deserve.

I so desire God's will for my life over any will of my own.

And that, my friends, is the hardest part.


Anonymous said...

I think all pain, suffering, hardships, feelings of hell on earth, are God's ways of inching us, slowly but surely, to Him. Complete surrender. And then, He wraps His arms around us and whispers love into our hearts and souls, and we feel peace.

Many hugs,

PS. International adoption?

Cole said...

I tried to call you this morning to see how Asher is doing today, but I can see now the question should have been geared toward you.

My friend, you have certainly endured more than your fair share of sorrow and pain. I am so sorry.

I do believe with all of my heart that God is polishing you to be part of His plan. I see the good that you bring into other's lives on a daily basis, mine included. I am grateful for all that you are each and every day, Rach.

Your anger is understandable. I'm truly so very sorry that you have all of these situations to consider. I too wish you could just have an amazing night with your Scotty and *voila*...healthy baby. But, I also know if you do adopt...that child will be blessed beyond measure to be part of your family.

You guys are amazing together. You are a blessing just as you are. You are loved abundantly by our Creator. You are worthy of the blessings you receive.

Rach, the pain won't keep those blessings from coming. They are coming. I'll be here praying for you while you wait.

ib said...

I read your newest post this afternoon. It struck a chord with some of my own struggles. I too, am a messy, messy man of faith. And said faith has been hard to keep as of late. O.C.D. makes it all the more difficult because I get something in my mind and I have a difficult time shaking loose in time to disconnect. I have been following your blog for a month or so and in reading, You seem to have some unbelievable friends. Use their strength to fall back on. Even when you feel like God is not there or never was, he is. I have learned that in my darkest times, when I think that God is void, He always sneaks something in to my life to remind me that he is indeed carrying me through and that he is saving me a place if I can continue to dig in and allow his well to be done. I know that you do not know me from the next dope, but i believe that I did not happen upon your blog by mistake. I can say that you are not alone in the fight to stay open because I too have been waging that war for sometime. I hope this finds you well.

Anonymous said...

You write beautifully Rachel. I know at this point I don't truely know your pain and I may never know it. But just the same my cell phone number has not changed and I would be glad to listen. Even if it is just a long wimpery sobbing phone call...I've done that a time or two.


Mamajama said...

I love what you said about surrender. That surrendering over and over again is my experience too.

I know I'm one of those people that doesn't have problems making babies, but I'd love to see you.

PS. It's okay to be mad...I'll never forget the words of a Russian exchange student who said that what he missed most about home was that Americans act like you have to walk around happy all the time. In Russia apparently it's okay to feel shitty and let people know about it.

Ruhiyyih Rose said...

Powerful writing, Rach - thanks for sharing this. I am so sorry for the struggle. I can totally understand your anger, too - it is so well described and heartfelt emotion behind it. I hope your desire for adoption and fostering happens quickly!

Julie said...

Thank you for posting this Rachel. I needed to read this today I think (don't you love how that works??) I just keep thinking to myself that every time I start to trust God, something happens and I just can't. I find myself struggling with the anger and trying so desperately to keep it from taking control of me again like it did after Caleb died. Thank you for putting yourself out there, and letting me see over and over again that I am not alone.

Jess said...

I think the big change for me as a Catholic now is that I don't necessarily have to believe that God predestined anything to happen a specific way, rather that He let it unfold. Does that distinction make sense? I mention this because of your comments about God in your post.

I wish our world was still perfect, no pain, no loss, no struggles. I'm very genuinely sorry that you have this specific struggle, it seems so wildly unfair and cruel. I hope for only the very best for you, you and Scott are such kind, wonderful people. If only things were meted out in real life the way they are in Kindy, the sticker charts awarding good behavior and so on. It is all such a crap shoot, and random and unfair.