Yesterday was not a good day. Well, not for me and God, anyway.
I woke up with that old familiar feeling that this cycle wasn't going to end in a baby, but in tears instead. If you're a woman who has spent any time TTC, you kind of just know when the end is near. I mean, the fat lady hasn't sung yet, but I'm pretty sure the end is near just the same. There are signs.
And if I'm not pregnant we'll move into the treatment zone. More dildocams, increasingly invasive procedures and most certainly drugs.
All this was running through my brain as I drove to church, and I found myself shaking my head and quietly saying, "You're going to make me do this, aren't you? You're going to make me go through all this after everything we've already been through."
Maybe it's just me, but frankly that doesn't seem fair at all. And so I was seething by the time I sat down in the pew.
It figures the theme of the Mass would be "God answers your every need." It just totally figures.
I'm not saying God is bad. God has given me many, many wonderful blessings that I'm thankful for every single day of my life. I have an amazing family that I adore, a wonderful husband that I thank my lucky stars for daily, friends who have been there for me in ways too numerous to count, health, love, happiness - I have blessings coming out the wahzoo.
But has God been there for me in my greatest times of need? I don't know. I don't just mean he chose not to save Thomas, I mean he's kept his distance ever since. I can't find him, and believe me, it's not for lack of searching. I've asked, in fact begged, him to help me - and I remain as confused as ever about his place in my life.
Where is God?
I believe he's there. I do. I just can't figure out who he is because he's not the God I grew up believing in. And maybe that's my fault. Maybe it's the church's fault. Maybe he is what he is and we've made him out to be more than that - formed him into the God we'd like to have instead of the one he actually is.
I don't know. And he's certainly not particularly interested in telling me.
I believe God is good. I believe Thomas' life had purpose and that he was called to heaven because his time here was meant to be brief. And I believe we'll probably never fully understand why.
What I don't understand is why God has vanished - why I'm floundering so pitifully in the deafening silence of the voice I used to hear. There's no comfort where I used to find it and I haven't got a clue where to look now.
He isn't giving me what I need, despite what the readings on Sunday said. Jesus fed 5000 people with three loaves and two fish to prove that he could supply our every need. I am one girl desperately hungry for even the smallest crumb and all I'm hearing is crickets.
I suppose I could attribute the outpouring of support I've had since Thomas died to the kindness and love of God. I guess I could give him that - and for that I'm grateful. But what I've lost, besides my son, is faith in God. Not in him as an entity, but in him as a being who really can give us what we need if we just open our hearts and ask.
I have asked. I've begged. I've cried. I've been tormented by this on top of the torment of losing my baby and it's wearing me down. And wearing thin too.
Maybe I'm crazy and asking too much, but I just thought that somehow God would have made sure that if I had to lose Thomas, in the bloody aftermath of grief and recovery I wouldn't feel like I'd lost God too.
I would have thought that at least he'd have given me that.