In the aftermath of Hannah, Ryan and Abby’s' deaths, my relationship with God and my religion fell apart. I struggled to find answers to questions that had no answers and I blamed God-the all powerful, all mighty God that I grew up with-for not letting my babies live. I was lost, sad, angry and confused. I needed to believe in something because I couldn't believe that Hannah, Ryan and Abby were spiritually nothing. That thought was too painful to even consider. And so, I chose to believe that Hannah, Ryan and Abby were with me, spiritually and if I asked them for strength, they would guide me. It felt all wrong that I should be asking them to give me strength. After all, I am their Mom and isn't it a mom's responsibility to guide her children? I felt enormous guilt at having failed them in life and then again in death, but I needed to believe in their spirits and their ability to guide me through my grief to the other side. And I was too angry at God for failing me to even consider turning to Him for comfort.
For a long time, I grappled with the notion of God and what He means to me. I was tired of hearing all the well-meaning comments about God not giving me more than I could handle, or how He needed more angels in heaven. These comments only made me feel angry at the people who said them and the God they believed had the power to do this to me and my babies and to all the other women whom I was meeting who had lost (a) child/ren.
With time, it became clear to me that I could no longer believe in an all controlling God who had the power to decide who will live and who will die. As that belief faded from my core, I let go of the anger I had once felt at God for Hannah, Ryan and Abby’s' deaths. I was able to stop blaming Him because I truly no longer believed that He did this to me or to them. I was then able to pray to Him for the one thing I believe He can give me: strength.
I am fairly comfortable with my relationship with God now. The problem is, I'm not comfortable with religion. We had Joey baptized, but through the ceremony, I felt very uneasy. I felt like a fake and a liar standing at the alter committing to raise my son in a religion that doesn't feel right to me. At my darkest time of need, I felt that the teachings of my religions failed me. Actually, they did worse than fail me, they made me feel like their deaths were my fault, as if I didn't pray hard enough, long enough or strong enough to justify saving them. But, at the same time, we held Hannah, Ryan and Abby's funeral in this very same church and I found enormous comfort in familiarlity of the service and thereadings. And so while my relationship with God is strong, I'm still very confused at the aspect of how religion fits into my life.
I want to take Joey and Laura to Church, but I haven't found one that I feel comfortable in, myself. I'm not so bold as to think that this is something I can teach them on my own, without guidance or support, and I do believe that a lot of what we learn in a formal religious setting can reinforce the values and morals that we teach at home. Of course, the important thing is that I want them to have a relationship with God and an understanding of a larger purpose...
I’m just not sure how to go about it.
