Crossroads

We lost our pregnancy 3 weeks ago, and I've hardly prayed since then.  I've caught myself praying without realizing it for little things and stopped myself mid-sentence.  I've been so angry with God and so heartbroken that I couldn't bring myself to talk to Him.  I've debated with myself over writing about the spiritual struggle that has accompanied our infertility.  I don't want my struggles and doubts to make anyone else stumble.  I only want to be an encouragement to others in their faith.  But it feels dishonest if I pretend I haven't struggled in my faith.

The hardest part for me in this whole thing has been the day we found out we were pregnant.  For a small moment in time, we were happy.  We had the babies we had dreamed of for so long, only to have the dream ripped away days later.  It felt cruel.  We trusted God, and it felt as though he were teasing us only to break out hearts again.

I've struggled so much with the "why."  Why did God allow this to happen?  If we weren't going to be pregnant, fine.  We would be devastated, but it would have been so much easier to have received a negative pregnancy test from the beginning.  It just felt mean.  And outside of "Your plan for our lives sucks", I haven't had much to say to God.  We've had many well-intentioned friends quote scripture to us, but in the midst of our heartbreak it feels like they've been quoting scripting at us.  Hearing that God is working things for our good and that Jesus wept and that God is close to the brokenhearted feels so trite in the middle of our heartbreak.  He could have saved us from being brokenhearted, but He didn't.  He's hoarding my babies in heaven, and I don't like it!  I used to take comfort in knowing that God formed me in my mother's womb and that our infertility wasn't a surprise to Him.  In my grief, though, it just made me angry.  The Lord formed me.  Like this.  Knowing full well that we would be here in this moment, heartbroken.  He could have stopped this.  He could have made me differently.  He could have allowed my babies to continue to grow inside of me.

On top of the heartache of losing our pregnancy, I am struggling with the financial burden this means for our family.  No matter our course of action for the future, whether it be adoption or continued IVF, we are going to be tens upon tens of thousands of dollars in debt.  A debt that will cripple us for years to come.

I am confident I am not alone in this season of struggle and of pain, regardless the source.  I've started seeing a Christian counselor because I don't know how to get unstuck on my own.  The first time I met with him, I told him that as heartbroken as I am, I know there are worse circumstances and worse pain out there.  My pain cannot compare to so many others.  Others who have birthed babies who weren't alive.  Others whose children have died from terrible diseases.  My pain and my experience are nothing compared to so many others.  But, as he reminded me, my pain is real.  My heartache is real.  And, to be completely transparent and honest, it's made me question my relationship with God, which is something I wasn't prepared for.

I've been at a crossroads in my faith for the past three weeks: a) move forward, following a God I don't understand and right now a God I don't even like or b) walk away from my faith altogether.  I can't walk away.  I can't turn my back on everything I've ever believed and known and followed.  But I haven't been ready for option a.  I'm at a crossroads and not ready to make a choice. And for right now, I'm going to be okay with that.  For now, I'm just going to stand here at the crossroads and wait.

I've been reading a book called "When I Lay My Issac Down."  The author of the book, Carol Kent, asked the same question my heart has been screaming, "Why didn't God DO something?"  She referred to James 1:2.

My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials...

Honestly, this verse was irritating to me initially.  If somebody walked up to me and quoted this verse at me, they may have to count it all joy the trial of me punching them in the throat.  I have no joy in this struggle.  Let me skip over the "joy" in this trial and whatever "good" things God has planned for me down the road and just give me back my babies.  But Carol Kent's point here is this:  

1. Trials are inevitable.  The verse says when you fall into trials, not if.
2. Trials are for a purpose:  Suffering was part of the process for Jesus, so it will also be a part of the process for those who love and follow Him.

I'm going to be honest.  I hate this process.  But as much as it infuriates me, there's absolutely nothing I can do about it.  So I've begun praying again, slowly.  Hoping that baby steps will eventually lead me down the right path.