Handing it over.....

Last time I blogged, I mentioned that I had an appointment made to discuss a tubaligation. And I did have an appointment. What I didn't say was that the appointment wasn't with a medical professional, but rather with my parish priest. Although I am firmly decided that I no longer wish to become pregnant, I have still been struggling with the whole concept of taking surgical action to prevent pregnancy.

I am a practicing member of the Catholic religion, but more importantly to me, I am a Christian person. There are many, many things about the formal teachings of the Catholic Church with which I struggle, and many with which I just plain don't agree. I don't condemn anyone who chooses to whole heartedly believe in the teachings of the Church, but personally I am one of those Catholics that does tend to question. Not outwardly so much, as inwardly .... in my private moments with the God of my own understanding, and occasionally with friends who are ordained priests or deacons.

I believe in God. I believe in the example of Christ and I wake up every day, determined to be able to discern what God's will for me is that day. I want to be the best person that I can be, and to carry out the actions that He is calling me to take that day.

For the longest time after we lost Brodie, I was consumed with becoming pregnant again. I would go to Mass, sit and pray very specific prayers. I wanted to become pregnant .... carry to term .... and have a healthy baby of our own. Nothing short of that would do as answered prayer.

Slowly I began to understand that I needed to look at how I was praying. And I realized that I was completely praying for MY will to be done. With great struggle, I fought to hand that over, and instead to pray for the knowledge of God's will for HB and I with regard to biological children of our own.

When I became pregnant again this past summer, I was surprised. I really felt that I had already received the answer to my revised prayer - that we were not intended to have children of our own. So this pregnancy was a blip in my understanding.

HB has tremendous faith in God. He is an amazing example of faith in action to me. He encouraged me to be happy about the pregnancy, and to continue to wait to understand what God's will was for us.

Now this next part is what gets dicey because of course, that pregnancy ended in miscarriage as well. What amazed me was that this time, I understood that I had indeed been shown God's will for us. Of course we were deeply saddened by the miscarriage, but somehow there was a difference in the aftermath this time. There was a certain peacefulness. I can't even begin to explain it in a way that makes sense to anyone - even myself sometimes. I still can't talk about losing Brodie without crying, and trust me, I felt no less connected to and happy about this last pregnancy. Yet my reaction is completely different this time.

I don't for one moment believe that the God my understanding is a hurtful or vengeful God that intends for me to continously experience the physical and emotional pain of death through miscarriage. But my physical body is still capable of achieving pregnancy, and so as long as we continue to not take precautions, there is the physical chance that I will again become pregnant....remote though it is.

Thus the struggle within myself regarding taking surgical steps to prevent that pregnancy. We've discussed other methods, but to be honest, HB is not interested in vasectomy; neither of us are interested in condoms and all that entails; I can't do the pill without a whole bunch of side effects that drive me up the wall. We won't even talk about the one time I tried to use the sponge and ended up in at my doctor's on an emergency basis to have it removed, ok?

So I really kind of felt like my options were limited. Yet, there was something not sitting right with me. And I was fighting it because I didn't want to believe that little old radical me was succumbing to what I have always maintained is a man-made teaching of a patriarchial church.

I really like our parish priest. He's young, somewhat traditional, but has a good sense of humour and openness about him. We've had him over for supper and hung out with him a few times, and he was with us when we lost this last baby. I felt comfortable to speak openly with him about my struggle.

He gave me no advice. He did lead me through some dialogue, though, that has caused me to decide to leave it alone for now .... and trust.

I'm terrified. But I do believe, and I do trust. So for now, my decision has been made. No surgery.

This, my friends, is a huge leap of faith for this control freak.