I talked to God for the first time today since Mama died 10 months ago. I mean, actually talked… not railed against him like I did for those first few weeks before I stopped speaking to him altogether.
It wasn’t a joyful reunion by any means, but just an honest acknowledgment of where I am in relation to Him right now. I didn’t attempt to deceive Him or myself by telling him that it was just a coincidence that I’ve decided to start talking to him again while my second pregnancy is hanging in the balance. He’s God… he would know I was lying even if I did try to play it off.
For a long time, I held God responsible for the death of my mother. Only in the last few weeks have I started understanding – or even attempting to understand – that God didn’t make Mama die. He allowed her to die. There’s a difference. Not at first, when the wound is still gaping and you’re walking in a haze of disbelief and loss… During those first few weeks and months, the difference between “make” and “allow” are meaningless semantics. But now that the dust has cleared a little, I’m thinking about what Andrea (aka Punk Rock Mommy) wrote:
Being diagnosed with cancer that is terminal has made me rethink and retool what I once used to define a better life. My life does not include growing old, a better life must take place in the here and now. Only what I can attain today not what I hope for tomorrow. My better life can not include one without illness or medical intervention for if it did I would be very disappointed. My better life today is not the one I had planned but it is still very good.
In Andrea’s eyes, God was not the bad guy. She regrouped and “retooled,” as she put it, to adjust her view of her better life instead of resenting and hating Him for not giving her the life that she originally wanted.
So I’ve accepted that I may have another miscarriage. And if I do, I’ll pick up the pieces and keep on trucking just like I did the last time… granted, the pieces were a bit jagged and it was touch-and-go for about two weeks, but hell, it could’ve been worse. Probably.
But meanwhile, THIS is my better life. I don’t have control over whether I have another miscarriage, just like I didn’t have control of Mama’s cancer. What I DO have control over, however, is how I handle what’s given to me. Do I become angry and bitter at God and everyone? Or do I regroup, retool, rethink and gracefully accept what’s handed to me? I’ve been a member of the former group for a long time now. I’d like to see if I’m able to become a member of the latter.
Of course, I’m sitting here getting all philosophical, and then something’s going to crash because HELLO, that’s what life does, and then I’m going to be to spewing the f-word again. And then ya’ll are going to think, “Hm, what was that again about regrouping and accepting? Yeah, not so much.” But you’ve gotta start somewhere, right? :)
I said all that to say this… I got the call from Dr Hearn’s office today, and I’m. Still. Pregnant. Right now, those are just words on a page. Crazy words. Potentially life-changing words. Exciting and terrifying words. I still haven’t completely emotionally invested myself, but the panicky feeling is lessening. My first prenatal appt is scheduled for Monday, Aug 11th… 1.5 weeks from now. Counting the days….
Thank you, commenters, for your kind thoughts. And Heather, thank you for sharing your freak-out management technique… it’s good to know that there’s a fellow worry-freak out there just trying to keep the panic at bay! :)