Tag: Plan B

Am I going to hell if I am mad at God?

Published / by sandymichelet / 5 Comments on Am I going to hell if I am mad at God?

For 99% of the week I am unbelievably happy. Great husband, great family, great job, great friends. My family is healthy, we have a roof over our head, we have food to eat and we feel safe everyday.

But for that 1% of the week when I am in complete silence and stillness I…ooooooo…..I. Am. Mad. In another post I shared that there is no explanation as to why I couldn’t get pregnant….so it just kinda hung out there…..with no answer or resolution.  Medical science and all of your miracles, kiss it.

My anger is usually directed in one of two places. My body who betrayed me. And God.

Some people turn to the church in times of sorrow…I do the exact opposite. If things are rocking, then I never miss. Absolutely nothing is expected of me during that one hour a week. Except to sit. To think. To listen.

But after 15 years of sitting in church every week while horrible things were happening around me…one after another after another I started asking WHY?

Knowing my struggle Craig convinced me (after about 20 conversations), to go see The Shack….even after I realized that there were no car chases or gun battles (my two usual requirements to see a movie).

The main character, after a personal tragedy, had a lot of questions…and asked them over and over again…..

I am sure there are people who would never question God….who would never admit they are angry at God…who would think that the mere thought of either of those would send them straight to hell.

Is that right? Or wrong? I have no idea….but the movie seemed to bring me some peace….which, other than a baby, is really the only thing I’ve ever wanted.

Aliens, Meghan Trainor and Finding Common Ground

Published / by sandymichelet / 1 Comment on Aliens, Meghan Trainor and Finding Common Ground

Years ago I saw a documentary about people who believed they had come into contact with an alien life form. They were convinced that they had either seen an actual alien or had been abducted. The documentary followed an interviewer over the span of several years with one intent; to show that aliens existed and that we are not alone. He took the viewers on a journey from the most metropolitan areas to small villages that had little communication with the outside world.

During each segment, the interviewer allowed the person to talk freely and encouraged them to provide details about their experiences – what happened, what they saw, why they felt it was an alien, did they feel peace, did they feel danger, etc. These were people from every corner of the globe with no possible chance of ever having come into contact with each other. And every interview ended with one simple request “could you draw me a picture of what you saw”? Before the final credits rolled, the interviewer showed us the drawings…..one after another after another. And without fail, the pictures were almost identical.

How is that possible? Do aliens exist? I don’t know. But I do know that something incredible happened during that two hour documentary. While the interviewer was all about the aliens, bout the aliens (sorry Meghan Trainor), I couldn’t help but think there was something bigger than us drawing us together. How could people halfway across the world with nothing in common find, well, something in common?

Imagine them going back to their families/friends/co-workers to tell the tale of what they saw. I’d assume that they struggled to put it into words. They were probably ridiculed (publically or privately)…they were made to feel that they were crazy…that they  didn’t see what they think they saw…..that no one else around them saw an alien, etc. It took a lot of guts to stand up and say “STOP. You aren’t gonna change my mind. I know what I saw.” There is strength in numbers …..so I bet they would have found comfort in meeting others just like them…others who saw and experienced the same thing.

Fast forward. In a previous post, I talked about going to the Gateway-Women’s retreat. I met women from every corner of the US who had never come into contact with each other. We had (right or wrong) felt ridiculed, sometimes felt crazy, etc. It took a lot of guts to stand up and say “STOP. I will NEVER stop thinking about my desire to be a mom…but I do want to see what’s on the other side of this grief.”

Similar to those who saw aliens, those of us who are childless live in every corner of the globe…..from the most metropolitan areas to small villages that have little communication to the outside world. It doesn’t make it ok…..but it sure as heck means that we are not alone.

10 of the most powerful minutes of my life

Published / by sandymichelet / 4 Comments on 10 of the most powerful minutes of my life

I have a challenge. Ask a group of women how they feel about themselves. Most of us are pretty hard on ourselves….we don’t work out enough, we don’t spend enough time with <<insert name>>, we don’t spend enough time doing <<insert activity>>, we never feel that we are on top of things, we can’t balance everything, whatevah whatevah whatevah.

Ask a group of childless women how they feel about themselves as childless women?  It almost brought me to my knees. Last weekend I attended a retreat right outside of Los Angeles (the other LA). It was a long flight and I had grandiose plans of catching up on email and reading a new book. Yep. You guessed it. Slept the whole way there.

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“So six childless women walk into a bar”

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The organizer had scheduled a quick get together Friday night for those already of us who were already in town so we could introduce ourselves and get ready for the weekend. A small group of us found each other quickly. We decided to grab dinner at this awesome dumpling joint (that makes it sound cool, huh??).

As we walked from the bar to the restaurant, one of the group yelled “Let’s cross the street…and don’t worry about the crosswalk….no one is going to hit a pack of childless women”… I had never heard that before and we all started to relax a little.  We ordered and started sharing stories so effortlessly. None of us were on edge waiting for the expected conversation that eventually happens when a group of people get together. No one in this group talked about their child or children. But everyone talked about the child we always wanted.

The next morning (and after my first Uber ride) we walked into the retreat center…..an intimate cottage that would be our safe place for the next two days. Do you know that sound when you first walk into church or a funeral home….where everyone before is talking in their normal voice and then as soon as you cross the threshold everyone starts whispering? Yep. That was it.

I have promised anonymity so “Mallory” welcomed us at 9am and gave us the game plan for the weekend.

After a forced 5 minutes of complete stillness and quiet, Mallory explained about our first official exercise. “Write a word or phrase to describe yourself as a childless women”…I couldn’t get my Sharpie out quickly enough. 1, then 2, then 3, then 4, then 5, then 6, then 7….I stopped counting the number of post-its I was using. We all got up quietly and stuck them to the wall.

Worthless | Less than everyone else | Not a real woman | Failure | No legacy | Afraid of dying alone | Pissed | Sad | Disappointed | Scared | Regretful | Shameful | Embarrassed | At fault/Blame | Discounted | Others are more important | Not valued | Alone | No one will remember me | Incomplete | Wounded | Inadequate | Unfair | Regretful | Not whole | Left out | Jealous | Lost | Unworthy | Judged | Misunderstood | Defective

In a previous post I said I wanted to hear my words come out of other people’s mouths…..Well I did. And I didn’t like it. Twelve strangers from around the country. Everyone wrote the same words. I knew what I thought about myself as a childless woman….but seeing other women experience those same thoughts was anguishing. I am not much of a crier. But the lump in my throat was so large I was actually Struggling. To. Breathe. I was ready to sit down. I had had enough. Mallory asked us to get closer to the posts and to “really look at them”. This group of strangers read each other’s words over and over again, silently sobbing, moving closer and closer together, arms linked. It was ten of the most powerful minutes of my life. I was not alone. I had found my people.

After that emotional drain I knew it had to be close to lunch time. I was ready to grab some food and think about something else. Nope. It was 9:20.