Resurrection

One of the nicest things about returning home from our trip was finding unexpected things in our mailbox. One was a check from our old mortgage company returning our escrow money—nearly $2,000 of it. We didn't know it was coming, so it was a lovely surprise.

The other was a gift from the fabulous doesn’t-yet-have-a-blog Christine. It was the perfect present—500-thread-count sheets AND a cordless drill. I spent the next day madly finding things to tighten while wearing a 500-thread-count rose-colored toga.

Moments like that have made my new return to church more palatable (yes, I’m still going). “Excuse me?” you say, “What’s that? How on earth does internet-people sending you presents make you religious?”

The thing is, I’m NOT religious. I’m spiritual. What’s the difference? Well, in recovery they say, “Religion is for people afraid of going to hell. Spirituality is for those of us that have already been there.”

That sums it up nicely. And means that all of us infertility warriors are spiritual as fuck.

I’m not a Christian, and honestly, I don’t see a time in that I am going to be. I simply do not believe the stories surrounding the life and death of Jesus. I think the Bible is too corrupted—by the men who wrote it—to be trusted as THE document on which to base my life.

So what am I doing in a church on Sundays?

Well, I may not believe in Jesus, but I do believe in resurrection. One of the many blessings of being in recovery is that I see people come back to life all the time. I’ve seen women hooked on booze and crack that supported their habits by being prostitutes not only get sober, but also get jobs, and marriages, and children back from the state. I’ve watched a young man that would routinely rob people at gunpoint gently guide an elderly man to a seat in a meeting. I’ve seen families reborn, unlikely friendships bloom, and the light turn back on in deadened eyes.

These people took me in when I wobbled into my first meeting, fresh from an overdose, with scraggly hair and little to nothing in my heart and brain. They sat me down, shared their stories with me, and listened to me shriek about my cravings and misery. Later, after I’d been sober a while, they sat and listened to me whine about stupid crap and pretended that I had real problems. Later, when I did have real problems, they held me and let me cry and helped me not pick up a drink or a drug to dull the pain.

Some of the people that helped me the most—witnesses to turning points in my sobriety—are no longer with us. My dear friend Web, who compared track marks with me and made me laugh and cried when he saw me in my wedding dress…he went back to drinking and drugging and shot himself rather than live another day as an addict. He showed me what is out there for me if I were to go back to my old life.

In other words, he gave his life so that I could live.

So when I’m sitting in church and they talk about Jesus I just think about all the personal saviors I’ve had, all the people that have set aside their own needs in order to help me get through the day.

Like my mother, who gave up her dream of being a folk singer to give us financial stability (Happy Birthday, Mom!).

Like Steph  who told me a couple weeks ago that it’s normal to experience an upsurge in grief around the ten-month mark after a loss and that she knew I could get through it.

Like my friend Sue who unexpectedly sent me flowers at work one day when I was feeling really shitty .

Like Charlie, who is currently putting together our new coffee table so that I won’t have to.

Like Sarah, who has offered to be my surrogate if pregnancy tries to kill me again.

Like every single one of you that has come back here, day after day, and told me that you hear me and understand me and think I’m wonderful even when I’m a whiny bitch.

I may not believe in Jesus, but I do believe in worship. I believe in singing. I believe in hope, and joy, and peace and all of those things are present at this church. So I find myself comfortable in church because even though I think Jesus is a beautiful myth, so many of you have saved my life.

I’m coming up on my next cycle, and I’m terrified. I’ve spent these last ten months treading water. There have been days that I found rocks to stand on, and days that I just wanted to go ahead and drown. But I’ve gotten used to the water, and beginning another cycle feels like I’ve decided to swim for the very-far-away shore.

I’m afraid that my heart won’t be able to take it.

But I know I’m not doing this alone. I have more support than any one I know. I have my recovery friends, my Internet friends, my amazing husband and my in-person friends. I have much to be grateful for.

You are all my life rafts; I feel safe with all of you. Tomorrow, I get some culture—er, I mean I’m getting cultures done (ah, it’s been so long since I’ve had strange hands and objects up my twat…). After that, it’s just giving them the money and making that cycle day two call.

Let the journey begin. Again.

Comments

[Rachel]

Oh my gosh I freaking fell out of my chair at this: I spent the next day madly finding things to tighten while wearing a 500-thread-count rose-colored toga.

You ROCK!

Welcome back!
I know we believe different things, but I am so glad you are on the road to peace/wholeness. I am on that road too...

[Rachel]

So does this mean you could be pg by the end of September?????

***does stupid little happy dance***

[Rachel]

You will be able to do it. Cuz we are all here for you. I still remember sobbing at work reading Charlie's post about you losing the boys. And you made it through. Ok I've met my comment limit :)

[Chantal]

Every year, I present my Mom with her yearly medallion at her regular meeting. This year will mark the 9th time I do it and I am always looking for something meaningful to say. I am not an addict, so commenting on what everyone has experienced is out of the question, but reading posts like this give me a better idea of what I can say. I've passed your blog onto my Mom (she doesn't really get the whole idea yet), but today she pointed me to your post and said "What this girl is saying. It's all so true!"

Thank you for giving me even more insight into what my Mom's recovery has become. She has become my hero.

[Heatherg]

Let me reiterate-

YOU ROCK!

I simply cant think of anything else to say.

[maia]

We're here for you Cecily :)

[Sarah]

What a powerful, beautifully written post. It made me sigh, it made me teary, and it made me smile.
It also makes me very proud of you and so proud to be your friend.
Love you, and will be here loving you and rooting for you through this and every journey. Always!!

[SusieJ]

I'm so glad you are trying again because I CANNOT WAIT to share the joy with you when you have a child. You are so strong I know you will find a way to be a mother.

And then we gots us another liberal! Yeehah!

--SJ

[Amy]

That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing it.

[Sheri]

I was laughing at the vision of you running around in your oh-so-soft toga sheet waving the cordless drill overhead just daring a loose screw to show itself! Then I began to get very pensive and quiet reading about your addiction and recovery and the wonderful people who helped you through that time. And finally, the tears flow with happiness that you are striving for that far shore again, knowing that rough water might be ahead but that we are all supporting you. Big hugs and smoochies to you!

[JuliaKB]

It was beautiful, and I am honored to think that I am part of the ocean of people who have helped you on your way.

[Ria]

Welcome back- we missed you!

Great post. I love the statement about being religion vs. spirituality. :)

[Ria]

Welcome back- we missed you!

Great post. I love the statement about being religion vs. spirituality. :)

[Gawdessness]

I may print this one off to keep - it describes a lot of how I feel about spirituality.
I teach sunday school at a unitarian universalist church.
Thanks.

You will be in my thoughts tomorrow.

[Jaimie]

You mentioned in a previous post that you had read (or were reading) Many Waters by Madeleine L'Engle. I haven't read it in years, but I remember a scene where the nephilim and seraphim were facing off against one another and showing their power by transforming again and again into different creatures. You show your power by transforming again and again into stronger and more beautiful versions of Who You Are, Cec. And I'm so proud of you.

If magic is the ability to change consciousness at will, then you, proud woman, are magic.

Thanks for this wonderful post. I needed it. And I love the way you broke down the difference between religious and spiritual. Hell yeah. :-)

[wix]

recovery gave me one of my favorite mentor-friends before i even knew she was an addict (she had a year of sobriety when i met her), and gave me back my oldest frienship (we have known each other 24 years and counting, not bad for a 32 and 34 year old). i know what you mean about witnessing rebirth, sacrifice, and all the rest, so i am in the chorus nodding my head.

one of the things i've learned from my friends in recovery is that the past doesn't have to predict the future. in fact, most of the time it's better when it doesn't. now, i know that to a certain extent what your body decides to do with this cycle is out of your control, and that it's a bit of a stretch to talk about your fertility and sobriety in the same breath. but here's what i'm trying to say: let's look forward to tomorrow and the difference it can bring, not how things might get shitty all over again.

i think if you start to feel exhausted while you're swimming for that shore, you've got plenty of friends tucked away in various places who won't mind towing you for a while.

[PumpkinMama]

Beautiful post. Best wishes as you set out to swim to that shore, I hope you arrive soon.

[jenny]

I'm thinking a lot about your friend Web. That's one hell of a lesson. Just that glimpse of his story will stay with me for ever.

If you find that your heart can't take the journey, you will change your path. You are definitely traveling with eyes open - you've experienced some of the worst possibilities imaginable. Your past experience will not be fear driving you, but wisdom at your side.

You know your heart, and what it can take. What ever you do, I think it will be the right thing as long as it's right for *you*.

And bravo for bringing your own perspective to worship, and taking the parts of religion that make sense to you to build your own, unique spirituality. So many seem to accept a specific tract as truth, but continue to behave with ludicrous hypocrisy. (to wit: heard about Pat Robertson's exhortations to execute heads of state? neat.)

Truly a beautiful post. Thank you for writing such an eloquent window on your life. I'm peeking in and SO rooting for you.

[Wavery]

Lovely post Cecily.

[MollieBee]

yup, we're all here rooting for you...whether you like it or not!

;)

[alex]

That was beautiful.

Exciting news!

[Diaphanta]

You are great. I am really moved by the resurrection stuff - it was beautiful, profound, wish I'd thought of it myself. I love your sprituality - makes me feel I'm not a weirdo, gives me hope. Fuck I love your writing!

And also admire your courage too. I pray you get what you want.

Cecily

[Lisa S (et al, aka Stolidoli)]

I will be here, saying a prayer for you and Charlie.

[Janel]

I'm coming out of lurkdom to wish you well on your journey. I wish for you all that you've given us, your readers: strength, courage and warm rays of hope, each and every day.

[Kate]

I am so hopeful for you and Charlie. You've come through so much, and will get through this too...hopefully with an arm full of happy healthy baby at the end.