Unfortunately, I know from experience I can't control everything. I suspect my experiences are the very reason I seek to control as much as I do. I remember very vividly thinking at the age of 12 that once I was an adult I would do exactly what I wished and nothing more. I was tired of being forced by the court to go to my dad and stepmother's house every other weekend plus three dreadful, hellish weeks every summer. I was tired of not being able to make my own decisions -- decisions where I would only spend time in places I felt safe. I was a "good girl." I did as I was told, because I knew I was just a child. Later, I vowed, nobody would get the right to tell me what to do.
I lived that way through most of my 20's. Relationships worked that way for me. I was fine, as long as you weren't trying to force me to do something I didn't want to do. If so, the relationship eventually ended. I'd had enough of that in my childhood.
When I had Sassy, she pretty much told me what to do. That was a bitter pill to swallow for awhile. I had to do all kinds of things I did not want to do. I had to get up throughout the night, my own personal torture. I had to be at her beck and call every day. I couldn't go where I used to go or do the things I used to do. She was my boss now. But my love for her was the single most overwhelming thing I've ever experienced in my whole life (and still is), so I settled into this pattern with little complaining.
At the same time, I began to control what I could. Finances were first. Food came next. Sassy's environment followed closely. For five years now, I've enjoyed this control. It has created the safe space that was missing throughout my childhood.
Of course, I know from experience I can't control everything. And this is yet again a bitter, but necessary pill to swallow.
I remember listening to my Amy Grant CDs when I was a young teen, immersed in my youth group circle. "I Surrender All," she would sing. I've thought of that song over the past few years as I've made my steady re-entry into the Christian church. I haven't been able to "Surrender All." I really never have.
Faith involves this suspension of disbelief that has to be constantly attended to. Although I feel now that for the first time in my life, there's just one set of footprints carrying me, I still have to suspend my doubts. It's strange to me that I can both experience and doubt at the same time.
My doctor is attuned to my numbers. She wants me to test and retest for my numbers. I did -- twice. And the second test wasn't what she considered appropriate. She ordered another test in a couple days to see what the numbers looked like. People know when they're in control. They don't wait. They do. They are not patient. There's not time. Action is required. I knew I wasn't in control.
As I cried, sobbed really, threw the phone across the room, that's when my footprints left the sand.
You can't control this.
If I were to ever conceive again, I would remember. I can't control this. I have to become comfortable with questions. I have to become comfortable with miscarriage as a natural part of reproduction. I have to become comfortable with death as a natural part of life.
If I were to ever conceive again, I would spend many nights with my hands on my belly, in open meditation. Open to God, dedicating the baby to him, asking him to stay in control so I don't have to. Suspending my disbelief because faith and knowledge have different meanings for a reason.
And I would pray, with my hands on my belly, that God would not let me fail. If there is something I should be doing, something that could make a difference, that he would let me know.
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