I believe in God. I became a Christian when I was eleven years old. Even after what happened with Rip, I still believe in God...and that makes it so much harder sometimes.
I've mentioned how I now write in a prayer journal. The last few weeks it has been filled with a lot of "Thank you for this...Please this...Thank you for this...Please this"...but the words on the paper were not the words going on inside my head. To tell you the truth, for the last few weeks I've been really angry at God. I don't know if it is because we are getting closer to the anniversary of Rip's birth and death, or closer to Gracie's birth, probably both. But I've been mentally crossing my arms and turning my back, feeling hurt and betrayed.
So yesterday I wrote what i was feeling. My journal entry went something like this:
I made a commitment to believe in you no matter what, but I am having a really hard time believing in you. I am having a hard time believing that you love me, that you want what is best for me. I look at pictures of Rip and I cannot for the life of me understand how his not being here is best. You tell me that there is a plan that I cannot understand but sometimes that answer is not good enough. I have this child growing inside of me and have the full knowledge that Your Plan is the only thing that guarantees that she will get here safely and be healthy. I put my trust in you and pray every day for her, but I know that her life is in Your hands as was Rip's. And if I am honest with you, sometimes, that does not bring me much comfort. So even as I know I have to rely on you completely, I need you to know that sometimes it feels like too much is being asked of me.
Today I woke up and that dark cloud that was hanging over my head started to clear. The anger and resentment I was feeling just wasn't there anymore. I know there are people who would tell me it is not up to me to question or be mad at God...those people are right...and also those people probably haven't lost a child. Just like with any other relationship, I needed to make myself heard. I'm glad I did. I feel like having this honest prayer healed me in ways that my rote "Thank you for, Please"'s have not.
I still don't have the answers, and I know that I probably never will. But I believe that I was heard, even understood, and maybe that is what I needed all along.