Scared no more?

I keep saying I'll get pregnant when God is ready for me to be pregnant. Truth is I'm tired of waiting. I been waiting all those years before I started fertility treatments and I've waited all these years after I lost Shealyn. I've been waiting longer to get pregnant than actually being pregnant.

God has a plan. Yes that may be true but I can push that plan along. There are ways to make the plan move a tiny bit faster. But will I? Nope not a chance. Why? Well aside from saying I would never do fertility treatments again. Catholic view it as a sin.

Not to play devils advocate but fertility treatments and fertility drugs are two different things. Now if the question were would you use fertility meds to try and get pregnant? My answer may be completely different. True is I'm scared to death. Scared either way. Scared if I get pregnant on my own. I'm scared if I get pregnant from meds. At the end of the day I am scared that the result will be the same.  Scared that I'd be having a funeral for another child. I don't want to live like that. I don't want to have the thought that babies die. I hate that I even know that. I'm mean yeah I knew that before but now I KNOW it and I hate that I have to live in and with this reality. Why?

There's got to be a reason for this had I have been dealt. Something more than an infection that cause my water to break so early. I should have done more. Is it my fault that I am here? I should have insisted the doctors do more. And not just take their word for it. I'm stubborn with everything but I wasn't that day. Why? Maybe subconsciously I was ready. No that is not possible I'd been ready my entire life.

Idk I hate having these thoughts. They mess up my head so bad. They make me doubt so many things. Hell everything. Makes me doubt me. Makes me doubt God. And I don't want to doubt him if his plans. I need more faith. More faith in faith more faith in him.

So I finally took the step

The step to what you might ask. Well way back when I started the journey of reading the bible in its entirety. I made a few blog posts about it. You can find them, here and here. Well, I'm still reading it as I am so busy and can only read a little at a time.

I also did a post here about my "calling". Well, more the like idea of beginning to create rosaries. I still make them but only now when I get inspired. And I still make jewelry as well. Anyway making the rosaries kind took a back seat. I didn't really fell right making them while being unbaptized and not a Catholic.

Will the passing of my husband's grandfather, I am have been thinking of my own morality and inevitable death. When I die, I want to be with my daughter and with the family that essentially helped shape me into the person I am today. My husband's family bought was all plots in a Catholic Cemetery. Again, I don't feel that is is right for and unbaptized, non-catholic to be buried in a Catholic cemetery. This brings be all back to my search for religion journey. I have been actively searching. Not attending church abut searching the internet and researching the different religions and inquiring about baptism.

I won't say I am a religious person, but I am spiritual. I believe in God and Jesus. So that's a start. 

I sent out a few emails and made few calls. Only ONE church has gotten back to me. The jury is still out on if it a good thing or not. But I will take a leap of faith and call it Divine Intervention. The one church that contacted me was a Catholic Church about 15 minutes from where I am staying. The Deacon and I spoke for about 10 minutes on the phone. I told him what I was looking for, my schedule, etc. He was very understanding and welcoming. And now starting in June, I begin RCIA, which is the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults. I am beyond excited to begin the next chapter of my life. Stay tuned as I will be sharing my journey.

Being possibly the most impatient person I know I went out and bought this. You have no idea how much I am looking forward to this next chapter of my life. It is a long time coming and I know it will take a while to become fully initiated into the church. But it is a journey I fully welcome it with an open heart, mind and soul.

Dear Poppop,

15 years ago, I remember standing at the foot of your bed, just after they took the tubes out. 15 years ago, I remember crawling in bed next to you, putting my head on your shoulder and kissing you cheek for the last time while you were still warm.

I was numb.

I whispered good night one last time as I left the room, taking one last look before leaving the room. That was the second time. The first time, I didn't get past the doorway.

I was angry. I guess I still am. I believed, deep down in my heart and soul that you would wake up soon. No one gave you that chance it seems. I remember sitting in the waiting room and although I was surrounded by mostly your family, I felt so alone. Where was the rest of my family? Why weren't they there? Did they ever truly care?

 

I remember Uncle Lenny (RIP) pulling my husband (boyfriend of only a few months at the time) aside and asking him to take care of me. I curled up on the ungiving couch in the waiting room, eyes blurry with tears, staring at the door and silently begging God, or whoever was listening to bring you back and take someone else. Hoping and wishing with all my might for you to walk through the door from the overly bright hall. But you never did. The room was dim but seemed to grow darker with every breath you were no longer allowed to take. It was so unfair. I needed more time with you. But was grateful for the time I spent. You were the only one who understood me and now I was alone. I didn't know just how alone I would be until a few days later at your funeral. And so would everyone else.

 

In. The. Back. Of. The. Church. Is where I sat. Billy on my left, your great-nephew and his wife to my right. It felt like people were staring at me, wondering why I was even there. No one said, "Hey sit here, we saved you a seat." No one said "sorry for your loss". You might not have been blood, but I saw you as more than my grandfather. I saw you as my father. There I sat in the back of that church holding my boyfriend's hand and my second cousin's hand, he holding his wife's hand, waiting for the ground to swallow me up. I felt lower than the black sheep, lower than scum, lower than dirt.

I am not really sure where this is going. All I know is that I miss you. I am not sure why it get thrown on me that I am a bad person. I'm not really. Since becoming an adult, I've only ever asked for at least half of the effort I put in. And I get nothing. There really shouldn't even be an effort it should just come naturally. If it were for facebook I am not sure I would hear from anyone. No cards, no calls. When did things get so fucked up?

 

I have this vision in my head that all differences are put aside and everyone isn't fake, everyone is sincere and true. It's just a vision though.

15 years ago, you got called to a better place. Now, I am thankful that you get to see how everyone really is.

 

Since being married, I have grown a bond with hubby's grandfather. Our conversations usually consist of a few grunts, points, snickers, hums, umms, what are you saying, I don't understand. But somehow we know exactly what the other is talking about. He can never take your place but comes pretty close. He's a strange man; you'd get along with with him. I am thankful that he has seen me through in your physical absence. I realize now that you had to go, someone needed to get things ready there for Shealyn. I have no regrets. And am thankful I got to talk with you truthfully and honestly before you got too sick. I still have so many questions that will NEVER get answered.

 

One day differences will be put aside. But I fear it is too late for things to go back the way they were.

 

Miss you more that I can describe.

Well...

...I psyched myself up. I did really good though. Mommy mode kicked in and I found myself wondering if this person or that person I was with was ok. I found myself people watching. Wondering what they were thinking. What they where going to do afterwards.

Here is on thing I will never understand. I don't know why people do it. Hell, even I do it. We stand there at the casket, lean over to the person you are standing next to or say to yourself, "wow they look really good."

Umm...no...if they looked really good we wouldn't be gathered there remembering there life. If they looked really good they wouldn't have been sick and died. Are we just trying to spark a conversation? Or does the person look good? In this case this person did look good. She looked...at peace. She had been sick for a really long time and she was tired. I honestly think that last time I saw her was at Shealyn's funeral. She was sick then but she looked...good. But then again, I don't really remember much of what people looked like that day.

OK that is all for right now.
Best wishes,

Death

Sounds like this is going to be a morbid post...maybe not.

Yesterday, Shealyn's God-mom called me to let me know that a mutual friend and finally passed away. I say finally because this person had been sick with cancer for the longest time. She went peacefully in her sleep. I prayer her s/o can find peace and comfort.

Now with that being said, all I can thing about now is my own death. Not so much of where, how and when will I die but more of the funeral. It's not like I'm going to be there to see it. But I wonder what it would be like.

Who will officiate?
Who will write my eulogy?
What will they say about me?
Who will come?
Who will be the drama queen?
What do I want to wear?
Do I want it in a funeral home or a church?

I don't even know if I want to be buried or cremated. Shealyn is cremated. I told Hubby that who ever goes first will be buried and half of her ashes will go with that person. So I guess I want to be buried, but where?

A couple of weeks ago I had looked into a funeral planning guide. Those things are so expensive...funerals not the guide.

I guess it's time that Hubby and I sit a really talk this stuff out. So, we know what each other wants. And we should look into pre-paying for our funeral. Did you know that have that option?

Tomorrow is going to be hard for me. Not so much that I am saying  good bye to someone I know. I've gone to a couple of funerals since Shealyn died I am pretty good with that. I know how to be the supportive person, the caring person. My mommy role always manages to kick in in situations like that. The hard this for me is their services will be in the same place we had Shealyn's services. This place is the last time I saw her. The last time I held her. The last time I kissed her. The last time I said good-bye to her. The last time we were a family. The last family portrait.