I like to go to church on Sunday. It does me good to get out of my own head and think about other people and our place in the world. I don’t go every week, but when I do, I am warmed by the little French community at the 10:10 a.m. mass, inspired by the boundless enthusiasm and compassion of Father Claude, energized by the dialogue, entertained by the children who actually like to be there. Everyday life can be a cynical place sometimes, so it’s revitalizing to go someplace that is really all about faith.
Many of the important aspects of our lives require faith. Before Michael and I got married, I wondered, how can you know that you’ll have to the strength to be true to your vows, to work through the hard times that will come? I concluded that it was impossible to know it, but I had faith that we’d give it everything we have.
Deciding to have children is a leap of faith, too. People asked me throughout my pregnancy with Jade, “Are you ready?” How the heck could I possibly be truly ready, knowing that my life would be changed in ways I could not yet imagine? I said to them, “Can you ever really be ready?” but thought, the decision is already made and all you can do is to have faith.
Then there was the miscarriage. Life felt so unfair, and I felt betrayed by my own body. Yet sharing the grief with others, especially those who had suffered their own losses, gave me faith in the possibility of healing. Stacie said it so beautifully earlier this week: “It is so reassuring to know there are others out there who have found the strength to get through the heartbreak.”
Last Sunday I didn’t go to church; Michael was out of town and it’s always a lot more difficult to fit church in when there are also dog-walking responsibilities. Instead, I spent the morning with my friend Anissa (we went dog-walking together) and had a grand time, but I felt rather strange the whole time. To make a long story short, I wondered enough that by the end of the day I decided to do a pregnancy test… which turned out to be positive.
I’ve felt strangely reticent since then. I’d like to be more excited, but am finding the joy is somewhat dampened by nervousness. We’re still in the very early weeks, barely halfway along the way to when my last pregnacy ended. Family were the first to find out, and a few good friends; in sharp contrast to my own reserve, almost all of them reacted with unbridled happiness. It’s been nice that others could feel such excitement when I couldn’t muster it for myself. (I did have one friend empathetically give me “cautious congratulations”, which made me laugh and allowed me the most carefree emotions I’d yet had.)
The truth is that I am at no higher risk for miscarriage than I’ve ever been; it’s experience, not facts, that makes me nervous. Though it can be hard to shed, anxiety is neither useful nor productive. Some might think me foolhardy for yet again sharing pregnancy news at such an early stage, but, hey, Easter is coming, and Easter is surely a time of faith and re-birth. Being at church this morning reminded me of the importance of having faith. Sharing this news with you is just a small thing I can do to cast off that yoke of fear, and remember to have faith.
