ONE
DAY AT A TIME
ÒTrust in the
Lord with all of your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all
your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths.Ó Proverbs
3:5-6
Life
was not perfect because I Ôfound GodÕ or Ôreceived the Holy SpiritÕ into my
life. The next morning I didnÕt wake up a saint. I
woke up fearful of what I was capable of doing to my children. I felt the peace
of trusting in God, knowing I wanted more than anything to be with him in
heaven. But I recognized my limitations as a human being.
Rage
was not a limitation but a warning sign that I needed help. The peace of the
Holy Spirit carried me through the next few days when my children were fussy,
cried, or acted out. I tried to talk to Neal about what happened but he brushed
me off and made it clear that Ryan had done the same thing with him when I had left
him alone with the boys the previous week. I didnÕt admit to him I had nearly
wrecked our son emotionally for life nor did I manage to confide in him about
the moment I surrendered to God on our bedroom floor.
Neal
could only handle listening in spurts at the time. Or at least that is what it
felt like. Instead he latched onto the fact Ryan had pooped twice outside of
the toilet and managed to make a horrendous mess. ÒDid you spank him?Ó
ÒNo.Ó
I hid behind the shame of what I had almost
done.
Silence
was a coping mechanism. When my friends would call to dish about the latest
gossip or complain about their boring and mundane days, I tuned them out. It
didnÕt interest me to judge people for how they lived their lives or made their
mistakes. I certainly couldnÕt judge.
Those
who understood were a few women who had gone through the bible study.
ÒI
could die right now.Ó I was on the phone with Deidra, one of the younger women
in the group.
ÒShannon,
donÕt say that. ThatÕs awful.Ó
ÒNo,
no. ThatÕs not what I mean. I truly would be okay to die right now. I no longer
fear death. I used to be so afraid to die but now I look forward to the day I
get to be with God forever.Ó
ÒOh,
I donÕt know. I get what you mean but I would hate to miss my kids growing up.Ó
Missing
out on my boys becoming young men, getting married, and having families of
their own seemed so far off. She didnÕt know the peace IÕd felt in the
surrender. I wanted to feel it forever.
I
experienced moments of peace when I breastfed Seth and felt his little
heartbeat pump in tandem with mine as we lay chest to chest. This would be
interrupted by a scream of disdain and a little body hurtling itself on top of
us to break the union. Out of reflex and habit my hand shot out to block the
full brunt of the attack and one morning my reflex sent Ryan flying to the
ground.
Ryan
cried. Seth wailed. I grieved.
It
was clear the opportunities for this peace were gone. I could no longer
breastfeed Seth. It was detrimental to his safety and my relationship with
Ryan. For once I thought about my children first.
When
Mother Nature called I felt the weight of a few more pounds of anxiety. I canÕt
have another baby. I was desperate in prayer. Psychologically I can barely
handle the two I already have. It wouldnÕt be fair to bring another baby into
this crazy world. I couldnÕt go back
on birth control. I didnÕt want to go back on the birth control pill. My weight
ballooned and my mood fluctuated and something about it didnÕt feel right. However,
I was desperate to keep from having another child I could potentially harm.
My
friends were Protestant but Neal and I agreed to bring up our family in the
Catholic faith. This wasnÕt a difficult decision but it was a lonely one. We
did not really understand the Catholic Church but felt an inner sense of being
at home when we attended Mass versus attending a worship service at one of our
friendÕs Protestant churches. The Catholic Church comforted me. Church became
my solace, the only place where I could pray to receive peace amidst the
anxieties I felt with sex and in the possibility of having another baby.
Because
of the different beliefs in our denominations, when I voiced concerns about
fertility and my need to put it on hold without going back on birth control, my
friends couldnÕt understand my hesitation to do something more permanent. I
felt like a child about to go against my parentsÕ rules but I didnÕt understand
why they insisted on enforcing the
rule.
I
needed guidance from Dr. Baker and made an appointment.
ÒYou
realize the permanency of this decision?Ó
Her words steamrolled over my heart. Permanent. No more
children. I blinked.
ÒI
understand some couples have an ideal size for their family that works for them
so IÕm not trying to sway you one way or the other. However, I find it
important to stress that though a vasectomy can be reversed the odds of the
reversal being effective are pretty low. And a tubal ligation pretty much seals
the deal. I, for one, have not performed a reversal on a tubal ligation.Ó
I
shifted on the examining table, the paper crunching and crinkling beneath me.
ÒI donÕt think I can handle another baby.Ó I was unable to match my voice with
the conviction in my gut. If she only knew what I was capable of, she would
convince me to do the most permanent solution.
Her
head tilted and her eyes softened with understanding. She and I both had two
children. She gave birth to her second child only a few months before she
delivered Seth. ÒAre you sleeping when the baby sleeps?Ó
I
nodded. ÒI have both kids on a schedule. Seth takes a nap in the morning and
afternoon and Ryan takes one at the same time in the afternoon so I get some
rest then.Ó
ÒGood.Ó
She wrote something down on her chart. ÒDo you find you are getting along okay
in your day? Like not sleeping more than usual but getting enough sleep?Ó
Again
I nodded. ÒIÕve been getting up earlier than they both do
in the morning to write in my journal. ItÕs what keeps me going.Ó
She
smiled and I could see her shoulders drop as if relieved. ÒWell, if youÕre able
to get up early in the morning then youÕre doing better than most people who donÕt have kids.Ó
She
scribbled on a notepad, tore off the sheet, and handed it to me. ÒHere is the
name of a doctor I recommend to perform vasectomies. He is very efficient and
your husband will be in and out within a few hours.Ó
ÒThank
you.Ó I held onto the paper.
ÒJust
remember.Ó She walked to the door. ÒYou and your husband need to discuss this
and make sure your family is where you want it to be.Ó
The
door closed and I stared at the poster of the stages of embryonic gestation. I wanted four kids. My stomach dropped.
I pictured Ryan in one of his worst tantrums and felt the anxiety in my chest
swell up like a helium balloon about to bust. I can barely be the mother to
two, how could I be a mother to four without royally screwing them up?
Neal
wasnÕt a hard sell. He admitted he hoped for a girl at some point but he also
felt the financial strain. I didnÕt have to convince him to go through with the
surgery. My friends were supportive. They all understood and a few had gone
through the same discernment.
Natural
Family Planning (NFP) is typically the Catholic ChurchÕs only option for birth
control. It is the most natural form of birth control using no medication and
instead the ovarian cycle of the woman. At this time, I knew nothing about NFP,
it was never mentioned in my family, so it didnÕt present as an option to
explore. Most of my friends were not in the Catholic faith, therefore it was
not mentioned in any conversation I had when discerning this life altering
decision.
As
a teenager I was not informed on much about sex, birth control, or the options
that were available. As a preteen in seventh grade, my parents sat me down and
showed me the ÔNOVAÕ special on PBS about sex. There was not a follow-up
discussion or a talk on safe sex, birth control, purity, chastity, abstinence,
or any of the terms that would have been helpful at the time. My older sisterÕs
sexual prowess along with the havoc her actions reaped upon our family when I
was growing up was the only underlying road map IÕd been given. DonÕt do what
she did. Plain and simple.
I
knew a good Catholic girl waited to have sex until marriage; that much was
imparted to me somewhere along the way. The Protestant youth group I attended
through my tween years reinforced this message but teen pregnancy wasnÕt as
prevalent and it didnÕt come up in conversation.
However,
as I suffered through high school IÕd been misinformed about abortion and
protection. I was emotionally scarred from the trauma of experiencing a rape as
a virgin, and I felt I severed the spiritual tie between myself
and God. I was damaged goods. Once I fell into
that lie and lived in shame the only emotion that steered me on the outskirts
of the right direction was fear of my
father and fear of getting
pregnant.
Two
weeks after the rape in high school my period didnÕt come. I sat balled in a
chair, hitting and kneading my hands into my stomach terrified there was a
pregnancy and IÕd have to make the decision to either face my father or abort
the baby. Thankfully my period came the next day.
In
college when I walked away from the second rape and reported it to the police I
was in the clenches of terror when I had to wait on the blood tests to see if I
were pregnant and if I were positive
with HIV. I was blessed with an early period but the wait for the results was
as violating and traumatic as the actual rape.
The
choice to call our family complete became easier as I acknowledged these
interior scars and fears that caused an irrational displacement of hostility
and anger. The decision not to bring another child into our family came from a
place of love for my children and any future children I could have had. I knew
I needed to trust in GodÕs plan but I also believed God had given me the wisdom
to recognize when enough was enough.
One
day prior to the surgery I received a letter in the mail from the wife of one
of his co-workerÕs. They lived in a town about an hour north of us in the
Houston area and I saw her once a year at a company picnic.
ÒMy
husband told me about NealÕs impending procedure and I felt called to share with
you what the Catholic Church says in regards to this permanent form of birth
control. I know it is not my place but I canÕt help but feel as if you might
regret this decision some day. Please pray about this,Ó she wrote and included
the following excerpt from the Catholic Catechism:
ÒPeriodic
continence, that is, methods of birth regulation based on self-observation and
the use of infertile periods, is in conformity with the objective criteria of
morality. These methods respect the bodies of the spouses, encourage tenderness
between them, and favor education of an authentic freedom. In contrast, Òevery
action which, whether in anticipation of the conjugal act, or in its
accomplishment, or in the development of its natural consequences, proposes,
whether as an end or as a means, to render procreation impossibleÓ is
intrinsically evil.Ó CCC 2370[1]
Evil?
Is she saying IÕm evil? Is the Catholic Church saying IÕm evil? The words of
the highlighted text jumbled before me as my heart rate shot up with fury. How
dare she? Who does she think she is sticking her nose in our business? She
doesnÕt know the fear in my gut taunting me with the fact IÕm not cut out to be
a mother.
Control,
thatÕs all it is. Control. I crumpled up the note and threw it on the table so
that Neal could see it.
ÒShe means well.Ó He looked it over
again. ÒMaybe she did something to prevent them from having more children and
she regrets it. Maybe she doesnÕt want you to make the same mistake?Ó
My
mind screamed with frustration. Does she not realize I went back and forth with
this in my mind over and over again? The memory of RyanÕs big blue eyes the
size of half dollars staring up at me with fear kept me certain of the choice. A
big family is not what God has planned. I assured myself and put her note and
uncertainty behind me.
However,
when Neal walked out of the doctorÕs office drenched in sweat and incoherent from
the extra dose of sedative my heart sank with regret. Halfway through the
surgery they realized they had not numbed him entirely. He had felt the
procedure as it took place. I was ashamed to have put him through the torture.
Did
I make the wrong decision? The peace I longed for in preventing future harm on
any children I could have did not settle over me with relief. I drove home with
my husband passed out in the seat next to me and I realized I had taken
control. My heart sank.