Choose your words

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Someone gave me a laminated St. Gerard prayer card that still mocks me from the business card holder on my desk. I told the woman who gave it to me that I didn't believe. But she said it was ok to take it. "Couldn't hurt," she said.

Prayer for Safe Delivery...Preserve me from danger and from the excessive pains accompanying childbirth, and shield the child which I now carry, that it may see the light of day....

Can I give it back or would that seem horribly mean? Should I just throw it in the trash? I don't believe...but I also don't want to offend.
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Along those lines, I had a St. Anthony pendant hanging in my van. I don't want it anymore. Should I just throw it in the trash? I don't believe...but I also don't want to offend.
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God is good.
Prayers work.
(Or some hodge-podge of these two).

Then how do you explain all of this?
God is good...except when he isn't. Accept the plan as good...even if it means THREE dead babies you have to visit in a cemetery.
Prayers work...except when they don't. Sometimes the answer is now...even if it means THREE dead babies you have to visit in a cemetery.

Thanks for considering my feelings before you basically discounted the deaths of my children.
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The anesthesiology bill arrived for services rendered for an "induced abortion." I know it's just a clinical term. I know all the logical explanations. It still made me want to vomit.

And now I can't stop thinking about it. The guilt is paralyzing at times. I literally can not move. I sit in empty rooms and stare at the wall. I lay in bed waiting for the medication to close my eyes for the night and hold the nightmares at bay.

I've been here before and I KNOW I have nothing to feel guilty for. But still...

Who really gives a f**k, right? Get on with it. I know how to do this.

Except I forget.

"3 weeks is the point at which if you're still walking, you're doing great."

Oh yeah...that's right.

So now it's been a month and a client leaves my office and jokes to the receptionist, "You might want to check on her, she might want to commit suicide after our meeting."

Yeah...idiot...because THAT'S what would do it.
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We went out to dinner with my parents a couple weekends ago. They brought my (adorable) little one-year-old niece and my mom said, "I wasn't sure if you'd be upset that we brought her." How am I supposed to respond?

Other than that, we had a fairly decent time. And considering it was the day before Mother's Day, I'd say that was pretty good.
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Laying in bed one night discussing my brother's family drama (which I won't discuss becuase it's HIS business and I respect that even if I don't agree with his decisions) and the freedom that must come from being able to let it all fall apart...Steve distinctly highlighted the pressure I've been feeling lately.

"That's what we do, Cath, we just ARE okay. No worries."

Yeah.

We're OK.

No worries.

Except I threw a tv table across the room the other day...

So maybe not so much ok? maybe just a few worries?

Meh...Who really gives a f**k, right? Get on with it. I know how to do this.
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