I have run across several threads on loss forums in which parents blame God for the death of their child(ren). I have wanted to comment, but don't want to give the impression that I do not understand the pain, anger, and bitterness. The seemingly bottomless grief that can well up at a moment's notice. I also haven't wanted to spark any religious debates in a place that is meant for support and healing. There is a time and place for all things. So I will respond here from my perspective. You may not agree with me, but please know that I would never belittle your grief and that this post is not meant to judge. I do know how it feels. This is just my journey. I hope this is coherent...
Even on the day we found out that Haven had died, it never occurred to me to blame God. I was, and am, crushed, but blame for God never entered my mind. This world is often a cruel place. I grew up poor, with a mean, abusive, and mentally ill father. My mom was a shell of a person for many years due to crippling depression. Fear and anxiety were my constant companions. Abuse of every kind was rampant among my extended family on both sides, and the same goes for mental illness. My aunt also lost a daughter, Katarina, at full term and only got to glimpse her before the nurses whisked her away. I lost a cousin at 31 to cervical cancer. She was a gentle soul and mother to a little girl. My father-in-law died at 48 after suffering through severe illness for 11 years (crohn's, a liver transplant, medically-caused diabetes, cancer, then a prolonged, excruciating death). He was a minister and a good, kind man. His mother died young from breast cancer. And then my daughter died suddenly at the height of my joy and the most precious thing in my life was ripped away. All of these things are unjust, unfair. But terrible things (genocide, war, murder, rape, forced prostitution) happen around the world every day and I never once blamed God for those before, believing that they are all a part of this broken world full of broken people. Why should I blame him when the pain lands on my doorstep? And I won't pretend I'm not in pain. It's on every breath, in every movement, in every thought and prayer and wish.
Faith is a choice, or rather, a long string of choices. Today, I choose to believe in God's goodness. Today, I choose to believe that God has a plan. Today, I choose to believe the promise that all things work together for the good of those who love the Lord. Either I believe in God, or I don't. Faith is not dependent on circumstances. In the Bible, God never guaranteed that life would be easy and that we would always receive what we want (unfortunately, a lot of Western teachings imply this). You need only read the stories of those in the Bible who went through unimaginable things to see that their faith did not bar them from pain. The point is that God is there with us through every one of the difficult things we walk through. He knows our pain, weeps with us, and strengthens us if we allow him to do that.
I have read facebook posts by atheist friends who imply that it is the weak who cling to faith. But to be honest, it takes serious strength to choose a life of trust and surrender in the face of loss. It would be much easier to sink into hate and bitterness and anger and never crawl out of that place. In choosing faith, I am choosing life. God sees my life from its humble start to its humble end, the good and the bad, and he has a plan. I may not understand it, but I trust him. I know that God sees all that has happened and all that is to come, but I don't believe that he caused Haven to die just because he knew that she would. Our minds always want answers, but the truth is that bad things happen to good people. Every single day.
I think it's important not to deny our feelings, but to acknowledge them. Today, I am pissed off and I can't stand the sight of pregnant women or kids. Today, I am terrified that I will lose another child and I'm angry that I have to feel this way. Okay. I let myself feel it. Sometimes I spend entire days feeling angry and ripped off. I believe that anger is a part of grief and should be felt and expressed fully. But I look at my feelings this way: these intense feeling are temporary; they don't change my long-term, overarching feelings. Bitterness is not somewhere I want to set up camp. There is recovery. I really do believe that. It won't be tomorrow or next week and maybe not even next year, but there is life after loss. Someday I will smile again without forcing my lips into an upward direction. There will be pure joy again. Have I lost innocence? Yes. And I'll never get that back. I'll never know pregnancy without fear again. I might never even know the joy of mothering living children. But I choose to believe that I will be okay in time, no matter what.
I choose faith.
Because this is a sensitive topic and I do not want debates on this blog, I am going to close comments on this post. But if you would like to talk about this with me, please do send me a private message.
