Unworthy Yet Still Wanting
It is seeming that the less I want to think, the more I do so. All day today I have been consumed with issues that I have struggled with for a very long time, but have tried very hard not to think about for a lot of years. My very purpose for existence, at least in my mind, has been denied me, and I am forever labeled "unworthy." Rightfully so, granted, but it bites none-the-less. I understand that I truly am unworthy of motherhood. However, I don't see a point to my life if being childless is to forever be my lot.
My sisters often express a tinge of jealousy at the "freedom" I have in my childless life. They all became mothers quite young, 19, 20 and 21. They haven't the faintest idea of the complete emptiness in the life of an adult woman who has borne no child. They seem to have no clue that their children are the only life I have.
I am, in actuality, mother to two children. Neither of them were born, however. On October 3, 1996 I held my brand new nephew, Malachi, in my arms for the first time. On October 4, 1996, I took the life of my first child. I was six weeks pregnant. I do believe that had whatever shot they gave me to relax me not knocked me out, I would have succeeded in taking my own life, and probably a lot earlier than when I tried. On January 5, 2000, I attempted suicide, and failed miserably. Failure being the one thing I'm good at doing. In the hospital I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and prescribed Depakote. That is an anti-seizure medicine prescribed to epileptics. I had never had a seizure, mind you, but it was supposed to make my brain stop going nonstop, always thinking, always in the downward spiral. On March 4, 2000 I was married, and on March 8, I found out I was pregnant. I stopped taking all the medication, but I guess the damage was already done. On March 18, 2000, I was babysitting my niece Casta, at that time she was eight months old. I remember so vividly holding her in my arms and crying, pleading with God not to punish me for one child by taking the second. My prayers were to no avail. I miscarried that night, again at six weeks....and just so you know, that is very routine for doctors, don't go to the e.r. and expect compassion or sympathy.
Now I know that I deserved what I got. I know that anyone who murders their own child certainly doesn't deserve another. Here is where I begin to struggle. What about someone who can't take care of the children she already has, and yet God gives her more. What about those who don't even want children so they neglect or abuse them. What about the drug addicts and alcoholics who bring their children into the world already dependent on substances most of us wouldn't dream of putting into our bodies, much less that of our infants. What about the woman who cut off her eighteen month old daughters arms and watched her bleed to death and said "God told me to." Or the woman who drown all five of her children in the bathtub one by one. How very much God must hate me to have me further down His list of "unworthy" than these. Why do I have to love children so much, is that part of the punishment. Is the fact that I want it so badly part of the penance.
I realize that some of you may read this and realize that when I talk of how evil I am that I am not exaggerating. Some will be disgusted and not come back here. That's o.k. and I don't blame you. I know me and I don't like me, so why on earth should you. I guess I will close with the poem I wrote my first child three weeks after I killed her.
GOODNIGHT
What can I say but I'm sorry,
I know that I was wrong,
I guess you're better off now,
In Heaven growing strong.
I couldn't have provided,
For you or given love,
The kind that is so perfect,
That you now receive above.
I know that I have failed you,
Ending your life so soon,
I just let the doctors have you,
As they sucked you from my womb.
I don't know what you would have been,
Or how you'd laugh or cry,
I just know that I gave up,
Before I let you try.
I'm sorry that I killed you,
I knew it wasn't right,
To send you into darkness,
Before experiencing light.
Just know how much I love you,
Though you can't see that now,
I have no excuses,
Nor can I explain how,
I took your life from you,
I took away your rights,
I never got to hold you,
Nor kiss your head good night.
But I know Jesus loves you,
And holds you in His arms,
Because I wasn't faithful,
And wouldn't be your mom.
October 27, 1996
My sisters often express a tinge of jealousy at the "freedom" I have in my childless life. They all became mothers quite young, 19, 20 and 21. They haven't the faintest idea of the complete emptiness in the life of an adult woman who has borne no child. They seem to have no clue that their children are the only life I have.
I am, in actuality, mother to two children. Neither of them were born, however. On October 3, 1996 I held my brand new nephew, Malachi, in my arms for the first time. On October 4, 1996, I took the life of my first child. I was six weeks pregnant. I do believe that had whatever shot they gave me to relax me not knocked me out, I would have succeeded in taking my own life, and probably a lot earlier than when I tried. On January 5, 2000, I attempted suicide, and failed miserably. Failure being the one thing I'm good at doing. In the hospital I was diagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder and prescribed Depakote. That is an anti-seizure medicine prescribed to epileptics. I had never had a seizure, mind you, but it was supposed to make my brain stop going nonstop, always thinking, always in the downward spiral. On March 4, 2000 I was married, and on March 8, I found out I was pregnant. I stopped taking all the medication, but I guess the damage was already done. On March 18, 2000, I was babysitting my niece Casta, at that time she was eight months old. I remember so vividly holding her in my arms and crying, pleading with God not to punish me for one child by taking the second. My prayers were to no avail. I miscarried that night, again at six weeks....and just so you know, that is very routine for doctors, don't go to the e.r. and expect compassion or sympathy.
Now I know that I deserved what I got. I know that anyone who murders their own child certainly doesn't deserve another. Here is where I begin to struggle. What about someone who can't take care of the children she already has, and yet God gives her more. What about those who don't even want children so they neglect or abuse them. What about the drug addicts and alcoholics who bring their children into the world already dependent on substances most of us wouldn't dream of putting into our bodies, much less that of our infants. What about the woman who cut off her eighteen month old daughters arms and watched her bleed to death and said "God told me to." Or the woman who drown all five of her children in the bathtub one by one. How very much God must hate me to have me further down His list of "unworthy" than these. Why do I have to love children so much, is that part of the punishment. Is the fact that I want it so badly part of the penance.
I realize that some of you may read this and realize that when I talk of how evil I am that I am not exaggerating. Some will be disgusted and not come back here. That's o.k. and I don't blame you. I know me and I don't like me, so why on earth should you. I guess I will close with the poem I wrote my first child three weeks after I killed her.
GOODNIGHT
What can I say but I'm sorry,
I know that I was wrong,
I guess you're better off now,
In Heaven growing strong.
I couldn't have provided,
For you or given love,
The kind that is so perfect,
That you now receive above.
I know that I have failed you,
Ending your life so soon,
I just let the doctors have you,
As they sucked you from my womb.
I don't know what you would have been,
Or how you'd laugh or cry,
I just know that I gave up,
Before I let you try.
I'm sorry that I killed you,
I knew it wasn't right,
To send you into darkness,
Before experiencing light.
Just know how much I love you,
Though you can't see that now,
I have no excuses,
Nor can I explain how,
I took your life from you,
I took away your rights,
I never got to hold you,
Nor kiss your head good night.
But I know Jesus loves you,
And holds you in His arms,
Because I wasn't faithful,
And wouldn't be your mom.
October 27, 1996
posted by Bttrfly1976 at 11:44 PM
.JPG)
5 Comments:
i just got threatened... i'm not the supermom, but the hubby of her most powerful highness.
hey! what the hell! beating yourself up will do nothing to help the past, except make you ugle girl! i should know..... anyway,
sorry, i got interrupted! now i can go on. certainly, since you have been diagnosed with borderline issues, u can appreciate my situation with the boss.
anyway, i guess u see God as having one serious case of bad-assism! if He dealt with us based on our past, well - we're just plain screwed. my own past combines the occult and leading the naive (sp) astray. narcissism mixed with flashes of fatalism. so, if God plays the balance card, i'm fucked! i do believe that God is holding his wrath for the coming judgement. not today hun.
now to you........ i think you need to get back in touch with the doctor who diagnosed you. see what changes there are in condition, improvements and such. i see the sparkling features of your borderline shining thru when detailing your pained past. what gives you the right to think you are the only one (or worst one for that matter) that God is wanting to punish? i know i am gonna piss you off talking like this, but i think you need some fire in your belly. go and get help girl. we are all pulling for you. you are NOT alone.
............hubby of supermom
Hey there. Your post probably had the opposite affect than what you'd hoped, but reading this made me love you more.
Thinking that God is punishing you is normal. I suppose we all think that when crisis strikes. And if you think you've really messed up beyond His love then look back at the stories in the Bible.
Paul - killed and tortured Christians before Jesus interupted him.
David - killed the good husband of a beautiful woman simply because he wanted her.
Peter - denied having known Jesus even though he'd been in the circle of Jesus' three closest friends.
Rahab - was a harlot that lied to save the Israelite spies. She is listed in the lineage of Christ.
I guess I just wanted you to see that you are not alone in your faults. God is not easy to figure out. He may not give us what we want when we long for it. But He also lavishes love on us when we don't deserve it. His ways are not our ways. He is mysterious.
Husband of Supermom: You didn't piss me off...lucky you, just kidding. Why are you being threatened? And you can quit yelling, I called and made an appointment with a therapist today. Her earliest appointment is June 20th. Good thing I'm not really crazy, huh. And just so you know, if this is not being judged, the judgement is to come later...and it's worse than this....not really good news.
LL: Thanks, again. I wasn't hoping to make you hate me...but it is very kind of you to say you love me. You will probably hate my new post, maybe not though. You seem to be one who can handle real questions. I do completely agree with you that He IS mysterious.
I have dealt with the killing of babies myself. Being in the cult I had them so they could be sacraficed, Although it wasnt my doing I have had the worse time coming to grips with that. All you can do is turn it over to a forgiving God who is ready to give you peace Stephanie. It is over and you are still loved by God. Its you that keeps holding on.
He is a forgiving God.
I just read this today and my heart aches with you. I know that nothing I say can ease that pain but I also know He can handle your questions. I love you my sweet friend.
Post a Comment
<< Home