Sunday, 20 January 2013

The one where I get mad at God

This year is already off to a surprising and, let's say, challenging start.  Surprising in that I made enough real ovulation hormones to create a viable follicle and uterine lining and had an FET in the first week of January.  And challenging in that, despite all the positive signs and our doctor's enthusiasm, I got a very heavy, very scary fanny-blowout dead on seven days later.  

This loss feels very different from losing our first FET Boobals.   This loss feels very frustrating, very aggravating and also vindictive.  Problem is, I don't know why I feel like this, and I don't have anyone to blame.  And yet there is it!  I feel like we have been personally scorned and I don't know why.

Sunny Hubby and I have always had a strong faith in God.  We were both raised with Christian beliefs and have been mindful to include God in our marriage at all times.  We say our prayers, we give thanks, and we read scripture to enrich our daily understanding of the Lord's work.  And I was taught that when I pray, He hears me.  And that when He is silent in our lives, we are being put to the test; taught a lesson that will be invaluable to us for the remainder of our days.  God provides us with wisdom in many ways, but silence is by far the harshest of these.  And right now I feel like there has been radio-silence between the Big Man and us for way too long!

I know this post may spark up conversations in your own home, or may conjure thoughts that my faith is dwindling.  Let me reassure it is not.  I still wholeheartedly believe that God loves us and that we love Him.  It's just that right now I don't LIKE Him!  And I think that is ok.  I have a very open relationship with God.  We speak often and about all manner of topics.  I talk to Him while driving to work, doing to groceries, sometimes when sitting on the toilet even.  I tell Him about our lives (not that he doesn't already know every little detail), about our hopes and aspirations.  I say thank you and please.  I get cross at Him.  And then, eventually, I apologise for raising my voice or saying harsh things to Him.  My relationship with God is somewhat similar to my relationship with my Husband.  And I don't mean that like I think the two relationships are equal; more that both relationships thrive on open and honest discourse.  And so I treat God as is He were here, physically, living in our home.  Now of course I wouldn't say some things to God that I say to Hubby, I do add a slight verbal filter when I'm cross.  But, He gets the best of me, the worst of me, and the 100% honest version of me.  And trust me, right now He's getting it ALL!

I am mad that our FET's aren't creating lasting pregnancies.  I am mad that no one can explain why not.  And I am mad that this wonderful, surprise opportunity was dangled so carelessly close to our faces and then whipped away just as quickly.  And I am mad mostly at God for that.  And I think I'm mad at Him because I have no one else to be mad at.  Can't be mad at the doctors or nurses.  Can't be mad at the embryos.  Can't be mad at Hubby.  I have no one to blame, bar my dodgey uterus and ovaries, which is ultimately me.  And I am mad at me!  Never underestimate how infuriated you can be at yourself.  But I am also mad at God.  

Why?  Well, because I have prayed to God every day since Hubby and I were married (12 Sept 09) that He bless us with children.  Granted I did not specify a number or a time frame because we trust that He'll make the right choices for us.  (Ask, and ye shall receive, that your joy may be full. John 16:24)  After learning of our breeding difficulties our prayer remained essentially the same, but with a bit more specificity: please let us not lose another baby.  And for the last two years, that has been our daily prayer.  As God became more silent, we started to bargain with Him.  As the bargaining fails, we make more promises to Him.  Never committing to anything we couldn't achieve, never offering Him something we wouldn't deliver.  And as the silence continues you start to feel alone.  

Hubby has a much stronger constitution than I do about all this.  I think that's because he was born into a pastoral family and has been raised, physically, in the church.  My faith has been something I had to build of my own volition.  Something that I struggled with for a time, and came out the other side with full-blown Lord-loving.  Hubby likes to remind me that things can always get worse, and to see the positive signs in all things.  These are hard things to hear when you're down and out, and quite frankly feeling sorry for yourself.  But then this big sign comes along: *DING DING DING, YOU'RE A WINNER, YOU MADE YOUR OWN HORMONES!!*  And my optimism starts to recuperate.  

After praying one evening I came upon a bible reading that I hadn't explored fully before.  It has the story of Hannah, a barren woman who "poured out her soul to the Lord" to bless her with a son.  The Lord heard her prayer and granted her with a son, Samuel, "Because I asked the Lord for him". (I Samuel 1:1-20)  I have read and re-read this bible passage hundreds of times over in the last fortnight.  I have read it and wept, as I prayed that God would hear us now in our time of need.  I know that Samuel wasn't born straight away, and that Hannah probably spent night after night crying into her pillow the way I do, until her beloved son arrived.  But Hannah has become very personal for me.  Hannah has become a constant reminder that God does answer prayers.  And Hannah brought me reassurance that this little embryo might just make it.  

So when my period started so soon after the transfer I felt betrayed.  Betrayed by God.  I felt betrayed because He had heard Hannah and not me.  That He let another embryo die.  That my Heavenly family were gaining yet another baby that I would have to wait a lifetime to meet.  And above everything else, I felt betrayed because I know He has heard our prayers; I know that He feels our pain and anguish, and yet He remains silent when we need Him most.

My faith is not dwindling, but my heart grows heavier.  I have this well of grief and pain inside my heart that only one person can mend.  And that person is not just any person; He is the Lord.  



  1. Sending you lots of love and tons of prayers. I have found that the hardest part for me is not the talking to God, but the listening part. Thinking of you, Sunny!

  2. Though I went through years of infertility, I cannot in any way identify with this post. I am not a religious person and find it very frustrating when people come to the conclusion that God is testing them. Why is he testing you and not the woman capable of having children at a whim? Not everyone gets tested by God and yet he selected you to torture with infertility? What proof do you have that he hears you, or that he is even there? I personally cannot believe in a god who punishes the good and lets children suffer. But if there's one religious saying that resonates with me it's that God helps those who help themselves. Maybe you need to start making changes in your life that are conducive to creating life, rather than asking for it to happen.
    Please know I am not trying to be critical of you, I just think you should stop thinking of this as a test from God and look at it as the rotten luck that it is. It may change your perspective.

    1. Katerina,

      I'm sitting here completely gobsmacked by your absolute lack of tact and sensitivity. Clearly this person is at one of her most vulnerable, heart breaking periods in her life and you seem to think that coming in here and slamming her for her beliefs is going to help? You've got to be crazy! Who do you think you are?! She can believe what she wants to believe and she can blame who she wants to blame - none of which should be ANY concern to you! As somebody that has been through infertility yourself you would think that would at least understand the need for sensitivity at such a time. I think you need to take a good hard look in the mirror and ask yourself why you would even consider your comment appropriate, let alone helpful.

    2. Katerina, I can understand your frustration, as infertility is an extremely difficult burden to bear, but it's a struggle that is unique to each individual who knows of its pain, and believers are comforted by the fact that God never promised life would be fair, but He did promise He would always be there to comfort us in our sorrow.'God helps those who help themselves' is not actually a religious saying and is found nowhere in the Bible. It is often misguidedly quoted by well-intentioned folks, but it's false. God helps those who are broken, those who are battered and worn down by all the trials and pain that this life holds. Trials are not punishments; God is not a torturer. Each obstacle we face holds a purpose and is intended for good. It helps us grow, it gives us strength, and it forces us to face the reality that we can not be ultimately in control. What we do with that knowledge is up to us, but God only asks that we choose Him...that we trust Him even in the midst of things that we don't understand, because He has life abundant waiting for us.

  3. Sunny,

    I wish I could take away all the grief, but all I can say is He is always and has always been with you, even when everything feels so silent. And you're right - it's completely okay to question Him and to be angry with Him. He can take it. :)

    I just happened across your blog months ago, and your story has touched me. I know how hard it is to keep perspective during such trials. Don't lose hope.