I can feel myself going through the first of many waves of discontent over our remarkably and especially bad luck (on a good day) or just plain cruelty in the world (on a bad day) that has left us with the Second Strike, Scarlet Letter B, second run around the miscarriage loop. Small things usually set it off – seeing someone who is pregnant, etc. But once it gets going, I consistently and faithfully go back to the same questions: “why did it have to be us? Why can’t it work just once? Why have been at this almost three years and have no baby to show for it?”
To be sure, it’s an exhausting set of questions that often leaves me doubting my goodness, worth and whether I deserve to have a child. After all, without some other explanation, the inclination is to turn the analysis inward and introspect as to what flaw, what deficiency of mine could possibly explain all of the unbelievable crap that we have been through. Because, as I have hashed about so many times before, it is not satisfying to say that there is no reason (although that is likely the truth). It’s the eternal question of why bad things happen to good people (don’t get me started on this one) or why good things happen to bad people.
Rationally and dispassionately, I know that it is not this simple. Good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. Life is the good and bad. Wouldn’t it be awfully boring if nothing bad happened? Wouldn’t we be unable to really appreciate what we have in life if we never were faced with not having them? I understand and accept that bad things have to happen to you in life for you to be a well-rounded, grounded and otherwise well-functioning person. I just wish those bad things weren’t this bad.
Being an atheist also means that I am without a very significant source to turn to for help and guidance, namely god and religion. This doesn’t bother me, because I’m an atheist for a reason and I ground myself in secular thought. This also requires me, though, to accept that there is no defined path, no preordained way in which this is supposed to work, no plan. It also requires me to accept that one precept that I just have such a hard time with: there is no rhyme or reason to what happens to us. I just happened to get the short end of the stick (again). I liken this to eating rice cakes – you know it’s good for you but it is just so damn unsatisfying.
I will be continue to be angry and discontented and sad and all of it about this and probably will be for a while. And, like last time, I will just have to taste each one and pay it its due before I’m allowed to move on.
I just didn’t want to be in this place again ever. Or at least not this soon.