Sometimes, no matter how hard I try to hang onto that "enjoy the ride" philosophy, it just feels too damn scary. Sometimes, the "down" part of the "ups and downs" feels like I may be falling into a bottomless pit, that there's nothing but falling and darknes and that it will never end or get better. And through the tears and sobs and gasping for breath I just try to tell myself "ups and downs, ups and downs," trying to remind myself that this, too, shall pass, that you can't have "ups" without "downs", that it's part of the great Divine Design, that we are meant to be strengthened by our adversities. But in these darkest of times...well, it just kind of feels like I'm bullshitting myself.
I'm in my second month of pregnancy with my third child. I started bleeding a little yesterday. Not much, just a slight pink tinge on the tp, but it scared me so I called the midwife (even though it was like 6 a.m. on a Sunday) and she said not to worry but just to keep an eye on it, and if the bleeding got heavy or was accompanied by cramps to get to the ER.
Over the course of the day, it went from pinkish to brownish, like it does at the end of my cycle, and it was still just only a tinge. It was still that way when I woke up to pee this morning. But after I had a BM, I was really bleeding. Maybe not a huge amount, but it was very red and quite copious. I freaked out so hard my hubby had to call the midwife because I just couldn't stop crying enough to try to speak or listen.
It's still up in the air. It still might be nothing. Or it could be a miscarriage. There's nothing anyone can do about it either way, so all my crying and wailing and gnashing of teeth is really for naught. And if the baby is, in fact, just fine, then surely getting this upset is not doing him/her any good.
So, I'm journaling. It's therapeutic. It's a way to get these poisonous thoughts out of my head, if nothing else.
I feel like maybe God is smiting me. I was raised Christian, of a sort, but they were very un-Christian-like and there were horrible things that they would do, both at home and in the church, along with a few other authority figures from our congregation. I broke with that faith, had many years of faith-based issues, and eventually came to believe that the Divine (I still don't like calling it God, but it's all the same thing) had other plans for me, that I was meant to learn to listen for that still, small voice and to have the courage and strength to follow wherever it might lead me. And it did lead me to a wonderful faith, in which I have experienced much growth and healing, far beyond anything anyone could ever hope for.
But the faith of my childhood still echoes, especially at times like this. Have I been fooling myself? Have I been defying God when I thought I was following Him? I was raised, not with a philosophy of God's love and forgiveness, but rather of God's hatred. God's love and forgiveness were for other people, only certain people. Things like me weren't even people, we were evil and God despised us and the sickos of the church would punish us horribly in God's name.
I really don't think that's what God's about. But it seems like none of those so-called Christians, none of those monsters masquerading in human suits, gets smited. Or is that smote? And yet here I am, practicing a path of unconditional love and universal harmony, and I feel like I'm being smited. Like God is saying I was wrong to think He could be about love, that He could love me, that I could be good enough just like any of His other children.
I love this baby with all my heart, whether it makes it or not. I'm praying with all my heart that this will be ok. I am so desperately willing to do anything at all, no matter what, if only this baby could have a chance. Please, God, just tell me what you want from me and I'll do it.
But if that still, small voice is there, gently whispering guidance and reassurance, I can't hear it through my own tears and hysteria. And that kind of makes me wonder if it's even really there at all. Dark times of doubt. Overwhelming. Unbelievably painful.
I'm trying to remember to enjoy the ride. I'm just afraid the track is broken and I'm doomed. I know that, even if I do lose the baby, there will still be more ups and downs. It won't stay this bad forever. It will get better...and then it will get worse again, then better again, and it just never really stops. But I can't see past my own terror right now. It's almost 8 a.m. and I actually find myself thinking that the sun just won't rise today. It's that bad.
What a downer. Ups and downs.
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