I come from a family of very faithful Catholics. You may even put them into the "super Catholic" category. My grandma and aunts go to church everyday. Every. Day. They say novenas. They visit cloistered nuns in a monastery in my city. They attend communal confession (although I can't imagine what they're confessing!). They pray the rosary daily. They have a rock-solid faith, no matter what hardships come their way, which I envy.
I have had 13 years of Catholic school education. I attended church all my life, except for a brief stint in college when Sunday morning mass times didn't quite fit into my weekend lifestyle. I was married in a Catholic church by a priest who has been a family friend for decades. I attended mass at this church regularly, every Sunday, with my husband. The priest there is wonderful, intelligent, liberal, and compassionate, which I think are rare Catholic priest attributes these days. And then, a few months ago, we stopped going.
Infertility has shaken my faith. I'm embarrassed to admit it. This seems the ultimate in selfishness and immaturity. "God doesn't give me what I want? Well, forget him, then." I feel horribly guilty about this (as any Catholic is trained to feel). But at the same time, I feel in many ways that God has forgotten about me.
I didn't expect an easy time in conceiving a child. In fact, I've always believed it would take awhile. But why has it come to IVF for me, when I've endured so much medical hardship in my life, especially as a young child with ulcerative colitis and then later Crohn's disease? Why didn't God see fit to make this easier for me? I deserve that much, don't I?
I often wonder why God allows crack-addicted homeless teenagers to get pregnant, but he won't allow the same for a couple who so desperately wants a child. A child that would be loved, provided for, and wanted. How does something like this fit in his plan?
I have more questions than I have answers. I want to go back to church and renew my faith, but I remember kneeling on the pews, hands clasped together, with tears in my eyes, begging God to send me our baby. And then I remember the monthly disappointments, when my prayers weren't answered. I realize faith is an essential tenet of any religion. Right now, mine is gone.
I have had 13 years of Catholic school education. I attended church all my life, except for a brief stint in college when Sunday morning mass times didn't quite fit into my weekend lifestyle. I was married in a Catholic church by a priest who has been a family friend for decades. I attended mass at this church regularly, every Sunday, with my husband. The priest there is wonderful, intelligent, liberal, and compassionate, which I think are rare Catholic priest attributes these days. And then, a few months ago, we stopped going.
Infertility has shaken my faith. I'm embarrassed to admit it. This seems the ultimate in selfishness and immaturity. "God doesn't give me what I want? Well, forget him, then." I feel horribly guilty about this (as any Catholic is trained to feel). But at the same time, I feel in many ways that God has forgotten about me.
I didn't expect an easy time in conceiving a child. In fact, I've always believed it would take awhile. But why has it come to IVF for me, when I've endured so much medical hardship in my life, especially as a young child with ulcerative colitis and then later Crohn's disease? Why didn't God see fit to make this easier for me? I deserve that much, don't I?
I often wonder why God allows crack-addicted homeless teenagers to get pregnant, but he won't allow the same for a couple who so desperately wants a child. A child that would be loved, provided for, and wanted. How does something like this fit in his plan?
I have more questions than I have answers. I want to go back to church and renew my faith, but I remember kneeling on the pews, hands clasped together, with tears in my eyes, begging God to send me our baby. And then I remember the monthly disappointments, when my prayers weren't answered. I realize faith is an essential tenet of any religion. Right now, mine is gone.
I can relate to where you're coming from, Kristi. There are so many things that don't make sense, like the things you mention.
I have aunts like yours who pray Novenas, send mass cards, etc. They "storm the heavens" with prayer in difficult times.
Like you, I often don't see how certain struggles fit into the plan. My struggles have been different from yours, but like you I've been away from the church and have been angry & thought 'why'?! In my case it's been many, many years though.
We were talking about this recently at our house -- something I miss about going to church is being with others who are praying, and frankly I find the ritual of it all very comforting. Probably not the best reason to go to church, but that's what appeals to me.
No answers from me... I have plenty of questions too!
(Love the new look, by the way!)
I think in order to consider yourself truly religious you need to have questioned your faith at one point or another. Just because how can you be religous without thinking, and thinking inevitably leads to a questioning when things don't go as we had planned or hoped, especially in a situation as stressful as yours is. When you're ready to be faithful again, if you want to be, you will be.
But this is from perhaps the most lapsed Catholic of them all... so you should take it with a grain of salt. Regardless, here is my advice: I say, do what makes you feel better. Be it prayer, or questioning, or just relaxing and doing something for yourself or someone else. Things will work themselves out.
Kristi, I would love to give you some words of comfort, but being an athiest, I don't really believe I have anything to say that will make you feel better.
I can only say, don't worry about what other people believe. Or what you're supposed to believe. Hope for good luck and try to feel good about your life. Whether or not you have children will not determine whether your life is good. Maybe you and your husband will end up adopting and saving a child or two from an otherwise tragic life. Maybe not. But regardless of the events of your life, you and your own state of mind will be the biggest determining factor of whether or not you have a happy, good life. And I wouldn't make any big decisions about your faith right now. I think that you should just let it lay, and in time, you will know what you believe.
Marie-I know what you mean about church being a comforting ritual. I used to think "I'm surrounded by prayer and faith and spirituality, God can't help but hear me" and that's very soothing. Maybe someday we'll both find our way back.
Cara-Thank you. I know everything I've gone through has made me stronger. And I long for that "blind faith" comfort zone too. I think the belief of giving all your hardships over to God is a powerful one. I wish I were able to do it. And your grandma sounds like one tough cookie. I hope she stays well.
Christine-I agree. I think all faithful people have questioned their beliefs at one time or another. And what's faith if it's never tested? Believing during the easy times in life is easy. Still believing when your life sucks is hard.
Dawn-Thanks. I know having children won't determine the quality of my life, and who knows what's in store for us. This is such an emotionally charged time in my life right now, and faith decisions should probably be made when things are a bit more...calm. Good advice. Thanks.
Alisha-Awww.. Thank you! You're so sweet and kind. And thank you for the prayers. That means so, so much to me. You've endured so much hardship in your life, and I truly admire your ability to use your faith to get you through. In fact, I envy that. I hope someday I can have that kind of faith again.
I'm not a religious person, and never aspire to be.
I think, that sometimes our hardist struggles in life, are also the most valuable lessons learned.
Religion is one part of your life, and if you have to set it aside for a while to focus on other, more important things, god will understand.
Novinas, or no novinas.
ok...and one day, maybe I'll learn how to spell. Or, use spell-check.
Ramona-you are so right. I've learned so much about myself and my husband through this process. It's incredible, really.