Faith Can Falter... but the Father Never Does

As made aware in a previous posting, I have had a big struggle with my faith. A lot seemed to happen in quick succession and it's so hard to bounce back from so many hits. I'm surprised it took me so long to finally say "uncle". I'm ashamed that I did, but then, we are all human and can only take so much. I am still limping along, but I'm not as upset as I had been. I could blame some of it on post partum depression, but that would be a total cop out. When things get tough, you are suppose to shoulder into it, not crumble into a whimpering mass and give up. So, I am trying to dust myself off and put on a brave face. Cooking and baking are good stress relievers, and playing with the kiddos and enjoying my new baby are good for the soul. I still feel a little abandoned by God, but I'm working through it. I am thankful for friends who care and have given words of encouragement. I guess, these are growing pains, and I am maybe growing into a new phase. I just need more faith and trust, both are hard to come by with my history. Thankfully, there is an abundance of mercy, whether I deserve it or not, I have it, and am grateful.

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.” Ephesians 6:12

The following is a video with a song I feel like I can relate to (the video is beautifully heartbreaking as well). It is actually from the father's point of view, but the words are so familiar. This is how I felt with Connor's diagnosis and the beginning of my struggles with my faith that have never abated. Just hoping there can be understanding there.

It Ends Here

So, despite everything I've done:

• nursing every two hours
• pumping after every nursing session
• taking fenugreek, blessed thistle, lecithin, brewer's yeast, mother's milk tea
• eating oatmeal in every form imaginable
• implemented breast compression
• tried every baby hold on to get him to latch

Nothing. Absolutely nothing. My milk diminishes every day despite everything I've done and I am so over it now. Formula is so (insert expletive here) expensive and inadequate, it's killing me to have to go to it. I have two other boys that I haven't been as there for because all I do is THIS in an attempt to find success in breast feeding, who need me. I have stress up to my eyeballs, financially thanks to the IRS and stupid mistakes I made with credit cards. I just can't deal with it anymore.

To top it all off, I started thinking about how much I prayed and had faith that God had His hand in our lives and was steering us in the right direction. Yet, with all the prayer and trying to do what He wanted, I see, we don't have anything. Our life wouldn't be any different, if I hadn't wasted all those tears and hours, every day praying for God to just show us the way and see to maybe throwing us a bone from time to time. Well, what has that gotten me? False hope. I feel like a fool in front of my husband, because for so long, I would tell him, "Well, God has something better. That's why that didn't work out. Let's just shake off the disappointment and keep praying and following Him." To what? Nothing. Nothing better has ever come. We've come within touching distance of a dream we had spent years praying for, it looks like God's hand has been in everything leading up to the final moment.... and it is snatched away. Feels like a great cosmic punk. So, I had a talk, with whatever entity we were swearing fealty to for so long (if there even IS one) and told him, her, or it that I was done. Out. I have officially had my fill of God. What has He done for me? Was there any response? No. Was I surprised? I guess I was hoping that finally, I would hear that audible voice telling me that it would all be okay and to not be troubled. But no. Silence. That was my answer. Either there is nothing up there to respond, or the great spirit in the sky could care less.

Let's recount... I was diagnosed with type I diabetes. I prayed, throwing myself on the alter night after night at church, begging for God to heal me. Nothing. Then, with my marriage came dealing with the ugly IRS who now, is perched, about to take everything from us. My first born was ill and created this ugly strife between me and some family who stomped the crap out of my self esteem and joy despite how hard I worked (with all my kids) to ensure his health. My second child is diagnosed with type I diabetes at three years old. We move, thinking we are following God's will for where he wanted us. It seems like a blessing, then when we are about to buy a house, the IRS jumps up and slaps our credit into oblivion (I don't think it is repairable now). No house. The money quickly dwindles away. We have been trying to sell our property for years, and get to the point where we are about to sign and have money in our hands, and the buyer drops the deal. My third son, gets reflux and refuses to nurse. Refuses me completely. I feel dejected and abandoned. I have prayed my last prayer. I pray and pray and spout faith and keep turning to Him, and I get nothing. Something, anything, no matter how small, HAS to happen for us. Something finally good. Right? Right.

So, my faith, along with my milk has officially dried up. I just do not have the emotional capacity for it anymore. It would have to be a big sign at this point, to make me believe, that all that time was worth it. That someone out there really does have the best of intentions for us. At the moment, I think everything we actually did receive, was only due to our sweat and tears. Not prayer. Hey, maybe some time will go by and I will see a sign and realize I was wrong. Then again, pigs may fly. If I am struck down by lightning now, I can only imagine it to be the most extreme coincidence ever.