Still having a hard time going to mass...

This is a more personal entry, but I'll put it up anyway.

The religious crisis continues...

I have to say that having a religious crisis is not all it's cracked up to be. Recently I heard someone on a list I'm on say that the process of losing her religion was no biggie. For me, doubting what I believe in has been nothing but painful.

I grew up in a religious family. My mother was always a devout Christian, and my father got more serious about his religious faith as he grew older. Going to church, reading the Bible and Bible stories, singing hymns and praying were all a very important part of my life. My religious beliefs defined me. I believed what I did about the world because of what I believed about God.

I don't regret being raised this way. My parents were strict and observant, but they were not intolerant of other people or other faiths. We didn't wear special outfits or talk about the End Times. It was nice having a more black-and-white view of things. And it was nice to know my mom and dad were praying for me every day. It still is.

The first step away from the beliefs of my childhood came in college. My freshman year I took a class on religion. My professor started discussing the idea of the book of Genesis as allegory - that the stories there explained how the ancient Hebrews understood their world rather than actual accounts of how things happened (i.e., the Creation, the Flood). This was the first time I heard anyone talk about these stories as other than the literal truth. It was a pretty shocking concept.

Time wore on, many things happened, and eventually I converted to Catholicism. Again, this is not a decision I regret. I appreciated the structure of the Catholic Church and the idea that its catechism had evolved over thousands of years by scholars devoted to theology and Christian history. I loved the Catholic liturgy. I loved its de-emphasis on emotionalism. I loved that I didn't have to feel guilty anymore for not wanting to be a door-to-door evangelist. I loved the incredibly rich cultural tradition.

The music sucks, but you can't have everything.

I've been Catholic for 8 years now.

For the last two or three years now, my doubts in what I believe have been growing stronger. I still go to Mass. We still contribute to church and charity. I still observe the sacraments. But I doubt. And, actually, I haven't observed several sacraments since January. I haven't been to communion or confession in all that time. I don't got to communion because I haven't gone to confession. And I haven't gone to confession because I've missed Mass several times and don't feel guilty or sorry about it.

I've been told that it's normal to have a religious breakdown in the third year of the infertility experience. So I'm right on schedule, I suppose. The first big doubts surfaced a couple of years ago, but I maintained a semblance of normalcy. After the miscarriage, I couldn't go to Mass without crying and feeling a nice sort of bitter rage. I would kneel in church, look up at the crucifix and wonder why God didn't seem to give even one shit that I was in so much pain. Why he allowed the man from Holland to have a son so he could shove a garden hose up his rectum and nearly kill him when J. and I can't have a baby. Wondering why the Greenville woman who let her 18-month-old wander around downtown in traffic got to be pregnant and not me.

It just seems so incredibly unfair. J. and I are settled. We have a house and no student loans and jobs and savings. We have family members who would love a grandchild. I like children. I'm a children's librarian, for goodness sake. I work with kids because I like them and because I'm good with them. J. wants to be a dad so badly. We have a stable relationship. But every month I bleed and bleed and bleed and...no baby.

I realize, of course, that God isn't Santa Claus and prayer isn't like making a Christmas list. There are no guarantees, and you're supposed to believe that God has his reasons for giving or witholding what you ask for. I don't think I "deserve" to have a baby or that I'm entitled to have a baby. But why does every crack-head moron who walks around drooling on the earth in between hits get pregnant and I can't? I've got so much more to give a child. And I feel so bad for all the kids out there who are born to people who can't or won't care for them. How can their fate be right or God's Will? I have no answer to this question. The fact that they are born to the wrong parents is even worse than the fact that I can't get pregnant.

So sometimes I skip Mass and then I loathe myself because I've never been the Mass-skipping type. But I'm so angry and sad that going seems pointless. How can I believe God cares about me? It seems like he would care that I hurt, and yet nothing ever changes.

My mom says to give it time. But it's already been four years. I don't want to feel the way I feel, but I can't seem to stop myself. I just don't understand.