Tag Archives: my religious journey

The Persistence of Thoughts

The kids run, they play, they laugh. I watch, I listen, I giggle.

Inside, I wonder: Will they be it for me? Is my body done?

I have no way to know.  No fortune-teller reading my palm and telling me, with an honest conviction, what my future holds–kid, kids, and more kids.

My womb, it’s empty.  My heart, it’s aching.

Have I tempted fate too much? When is too much?  Two children, three miscarriages, what now?  Do I stop?  Do I wait?  Do I hope?

Prayer.  Sometimes I wish I could rely on God, but He has let me down.  Too often.  With the idea that if I do as He asks, certain blessings will follow.  I did–still do–but I know the truth and can no longer be fooled.  It is much easier to believe in a higher power in the Universe than to believe in a God that allows so much pain and hurt–not just in my life, in those around me, in those women and men’s lives that I don’t know around the world.  The suffering of the children from hunger, abandonment, rape, and so much more.

I prayed my heart out.  I had blessings–several.  All pointed to something I thought I heard: I was doing the right thing and would soon be holding a healthy baby.

Wrong.  Three times over.

But, in my heart, I want a baby–babies–still.  The chaos, the messes, the crazy days are what I crave. I am in a better place, much more mentally and emotionally stable; however, when does it become over-kill (excuse the unintentional pun)? When does one stop? Miscarriages, pregnancies, all these things are not easy–on the body or the psyche.  Is it worth it to drive me to the brink of insanity, a place in which I am teetering on the edge already?

A fortune-teller.  That is what I need.  With other things in my life–employment, school, and growing–I have at least a basic outline.  I know things can change, on a whim, but those changes will be relatively expected.  I do not know, unfortunately, what our family size will be; it is unrealistic, and a bit silly, to expect that I, of all the infertile women, will have the gift of a healthy pregnancy soon.  See, there is a possibility that I will, but there is a possibility that I won’t.  And that is the truth, a place I would rather be than to misplace my expectations on a slim chance.  I mean, I did tell myself that if I had a third miscarriage, I would not try anymore because the pain would be too intense for me to try again.

This is where I wish I could be okay with my two kids.  I am happy with them, overjoyed that they are in our family; however, I can’t shake the feeling that there is an empty space, empty spaces, that need filled.  I want it to go away, beg that it will go away. Instead, I remember my dreams, my hopes, my desires, and those memories refuse to desist in haunting me.

Possibilities in life are endless, but sometimes I wish I could just know the outcome for one thing.


Filed under miscarriage

Closing Shop and Other Housekeeping Items

After I went public with my disaffection/break/discontent (whatever you want to call it) from the Mormon church–the church of my upbringing–I have had conflicting feelings.  On the one hand, I want to talk about my experiences because it shaped me as a child and continues shaping me as I grow older.  (My entire mindset is Mormon–I see things from a Mormon worldview; I view religion-related things from a Mormon perspective; and many of my friends are/were Mormon.)  On the other hand, I do not want to isolate those who continue to believe in the tenets of Mormonism and, in my mind, religion in all its forms.  It isn’t that I am trying to convince people to join me in my agnosticism/atheism, it’s that I am working through my past beliefs in order to integrate them into the person I am now and the person I am becoming.

I don’t feel I am being anti-Mormon, but understand the Mormon mindset which makes certain topics uncomfortable.   But, to be frank, it isn’t just Mormonism that I have issues with.  It is God, Jesus Christ, the scriptures, and the history of all Judeo-Christian religions.  I am open to exploring different religions and am also open to opinions that are different from my own. Heck, if you have an experience that is or was similar to mine, and you stayed faithful to whatever religion you currently are, tell me about it!

However, you are formally warned that I will be sharing my religious experiences and why I feel the way I do now.  It will be thoughtful and may also be hard to read.  So if you are uncomfortable with that and wish to say something that is not conducive to respectful conversation, do so at your own risk.  That is to say, I will not respond to hurtful comments.  In fact, I will delete your words forever.  At the same time, I have a forgiving heart.  Just be respectful to me and my views (and, by all means, disagree with me!) and I will be respectful to you.

All this is a lengthy explanation for my new Facebook rules.  I will be trimming down my current friends to those who are close friends and/or relatives.  I will not be talking about my religious angst, my political opinions, or anything that might be controversial on that account.  Instead, I have opened a new account that is dedicated to all the above plus a few other things that I will discuss a little later in this post.  You are welcome to friend me.  I am not picky and will accept everyone, who is not crazy and/or a friend whore, who asks.  I might seek you out because I am interested in what you have to say.  Again, you can find that new account here.   If you are not into that sort of thing, you are also welcome to “like” my blog.  It won’t be nearly as fun as my new account, but will apprise you of new blog posts.


My second piece of business is more momma-related.  Y’all know that I struggle with intense mental illness, right?  (If you don’t, where have you been?) (Kidding.)  As I am figuring out how to handle it (yes, my medication does not make it all better, I must do other things to keep me level), I realize that most of my current stress comes from being a mom.  To two toddlers.  To help me see the bright side of some crazy days, I will be posting quotes and/or experiences from the day to my new Facebook account‘s wall.  So if you are annoyed by that kind of thing, be warned.  It is something I realize helps me see things in a less hazy way.  I love my kids.  Oh I love them.  But mental illness often clouds my perspective and I need a metaphorical Windex-like product to wipe my windows clean.  And this is the idea that came to me.  So I’m going to try it.


Numero three.  I am revamping my weekly supporting parents write-up.  Look for more details soon.


And finally, I am taking a short break to recuperate and tackle this enormous to-do list I have.  I will most likely continue reading your blogs but need some time to gather my own thoughts before returning to writing. This whole exploration of my new feminist/religious/philosophical self is exhausting.  Literally, I pass out every day quickly because my mind is teeming with information, comments, ideas, etc.  Also, my to-do list is full of things with actual deadlines.  Deadlines that are coming up real fast.  Yikes.  So I must dedicate more time to completing these tasks (which include some exciting new adventures, I’ll keep you posted) before the end of the month.  I will continue with the Supporting Parents posts because I really do believe in my original idea and because it helps me look over my parenting with an objective magnifying glass.

If you are still reading this long post, kudos to you.


Filed under Random Thoughts

Straight Or Gay, Love Is Real

He stumbles in at midnight, having been gone since 7 that morning.  He hugs me and I squeeze him back.

“I need you,” he says.

“Babe, I need you more than anything in this world,” I tell him back.

We lay back, content in each other’s arms.  Our love is full.  Our hearts are one.


The dark, cold Alaskan sky further illuminated him as he bent on one knee in the snow.

“Will you marry me?”  he softly breathed, gazing into my surprised eyes.

I am only sixteen.  My parents, leaders, and other adults have told me that I don’t know what love is. But my heart and mind tell me this is the right choice.  That he is the man I love and I wouldn’t want to spend my life with any other person.

“Yes!” I said.  Internally defying the surrounding forces and letting them know that forced to live and act like an adult, I became one.


The church leaders and doctrine explicitly state acting on homosexual tendencies is a sin.  I thought I agreed, remember I was a believing member who did, said, and acted according to what I had been taught.

But all my observations told me the church was wrong. It cannot be a sin to love.  Given the vehemence with which people reacted when they discovered I was engaged, at 16, to the man I loved, who was not a return missionary and did not want to serve a mission, I have seen this idea first-hand.  At that time, despite all the fibers in my being telling me otherwise, I caved to my naturally obeying self and encouraged Ben to serve a mission.  He, also an obedient and people-pleasing person, agreed.

Everything I felt, my answers to prayers, were ignored because it went against the natural order of my church.


This week, I listened to Stacey’s story of  owning her lesbian self. I cried as she shared her desire to be normal, of marrying her husband and trying so hard to love him–of thinking his love could somehow become hers too.  Until she had the answer, in the temple, telling her she needs to accept how God has made her.  Her husband, a supportive and amazing man, agrees.  They divorce.  She finally feels whole in the arms of another woman.  Her spirit is no longer broken as she accepts love in the way that God intended.

How could I deny her the chance for intimacy?  How could I let my experience as a 16-year-old be repeated again in hundreds-nay, thousands-of people’s lives by telling them their love is a sin?


It is 3.5 years later.  I meet him at the airport, praying that his feelings haven’t changed.  After a whirl-wind 5 days, he proposes.  We marry 22 days later.  In a year, we welcome our first.  14 months later, our second.  And our love?  That love that was so sinful when I was 16? Is celebrated.  Because we went with “the script.”


I watch documentaries as gay couples tell their stories.  The love they have for each other is palpable.  I wonder, is their love any different from the love I have?  Can it really be a sin?

What is immorality anyway? Is it to love someone, or is it to fully express your love outside of marriage?  If I don’t let these gay couples get married, denying that they actually love each other, aren’t I forcing them to break the law of chastity?

These questions won’t stop.  I can’t sleep at night because me, the supposed Christian, is spreading hate instead of love.

I take a deep breath.  I ponder.  My heart tells me everything I have believed is wrong.  My mind thinks about the science, the genetics, and I wonder if God could really make mistakes.  And if he doesn’t, would He really sanction anti-family sentiments?


As I look at the bigger picture, I realize that love fuels this world.  To deny this would be to take away the good in humanity.  I can’t consciously do this, so I am going with my heart.  I have a feeling, and the experience, that my heart is not wrong on this.  I am 24, strong, and can no longer be pressured into accepting what I disagree with.

I gaze into my husband’s eyes, the eyes I have treasured since I was 16, and I know I cannot deny love.  I cannot allow hurt and pain to accompany this world’s bleak existence.  Family is important and there are various ways to build one.  Whether it is as a mature 18-year-old, or between couples of the same gender.  Family does hold this society together and I will fight to keep it that way.

Simple BPM


Filed under seemingly bold