This is all very weird. Tonight I was walking home and thinking about when to tell my mom, and I started crying. I was running the conversation in my head, and said to the mom-in-my-head, “you know, this doesn’t mean I’m having a baby. It just means that a necessary (but not sufficient) condition has been fulfilled.”
There’s something about trying and failing for this long that can start to make a person think that it must be for some profound and intrinsic reason – perhaps God doesn’t want me to have children. In that case, I certainly won’t be able to keep this . . . this whatever it is that could potentially turn into a child. He’s going to take it away, just like he took A (my BIL) away. And my cousin M. And my friend K.
Farmwrench (you know who you are) recently reminded me that in 2005 we nearly lost another cousin, but his cancer was discovered and removed just in time. He’s now living cancer free, and for that we are very thankful (but to whom? or to what?).
Obviously, attributing every little thing – even the big things – to the direct, conscious, and intentional hand of God is pretty crazy-making. I can’t really reconcile these things, which is why it’s hard for me to go to church anymore. But at the gut-level of belief, which seems to be beyond my cognitive control, it feels like I’m being punished for something. It feels hard to believe that this could be for real.
Hence my shyness about celebrating. But I know that at least for now, I can at least pretend that there is something there, something that’s hanging on for dear life, and might even make it. So far.