I've done it....have you?

We all know the story of Job (that's right, I'm going biblical). A wealthy man that had everything stripped from him for what would seemingly be Satan's amusement. And what's worse? God let it happen. Right? Yet, job never cursed him. He never lost faith. He was steadfast and firm. Not me. Within the first chapter, Job was stripped of his animals, servants, and children. Kill my dog? Sure, I'd be sad, but I wouldn't curse god. Take my home? I'd find a place and be okay. Kill my servants? Well, I don't have any. So..... Take my children? Yep. I'm out. I'm done. I lost the battle. In 2008 when I lost my first, I blamed two factors. My body and my god. Why would he do that to me? Why would he take my baby right before my husband goes to war? What did I do? Who did I wrong? Did I deserve this? There are rapists and child molesters that have kids, but I can't? Not just can't. Not "oh, you cant conceive". More like "here is the one thing you want..... haha just kidding".
Okay, stick with me, because this really DOES go somewhere.
Finally, I accepted it. The biggest reason I wanted a baby RIGHT THEN was because I wanted a part of my husband in case he didn't come home. Eventually, I realized maybe it was a sign that I didn't need a part of him because I would have HIM. It may be a wait, but I took it as a sign he would come home. Guess what? He did. We waited a few years and the entire time I wondered if it was really possible. Finally, we tried again. 5 months in, I lost another. I remember crying on the bathroom floor begging for an answer. Why me? What did I do? My husband doesn't deserve this! How could you abandon me? Eventually, I came around and knew god never left me. That same month, I got a surprise. He hadn't abandoned me. He just asked that I wait and have faith. Although I was still a nervous wreck about another loss, there was a calm. When I would stress out the most, it just happened. An eerie calm. Deep down, I knew this one would make it.
People often ask why God let Job go through that. Why did he sit by and watch his pain? Why did he allow, if not encourage, it to happen? I've always wondered this myself. Why? Better yet, why did Job accept it? Tonight, Job was part of my bible study. While I sat there reading, it hit me. God wasn't torturing Job, or me. He doesn't do that. All he asks is that you wait and have a little faith. For me, I wouldn't be able to offer my daughter the life she has and deserves if our first baby was born. I wouldn't have my daughter if our second was born (I would have been pregnant at the time of her conception instead). Do I still miss them? Every day. However, things turned out amazingly well. I don't know what I'd do with anyone that wasn't her. We just had to wait for the perfect moment. The perfect genetic combination. Have I cursed god and left his side? Yes. Have I seen that I'm not always right? Yes. I wouldn't change her for the world. Would I curse him again? If he takes my daughter, most likely, but I'm not ashamed to admit I'm a work in progress.

It DOES get better, baby.

I sit here with my baby asleep watching a show about children with OCD. This brings many many thoughts to mind. First, it reminds me of my past. I was diagnosed when I was 7 years old. I vividly remember fighting with my mom in the laundry room because of my clothes. She asked why I couldn't just wear them and all I could say was "they're wrong". I didn't know why they were wrong. I didn't know if I was wrong. I just knew it didn't work. Something was wrong. I screamed, I cried, I couldn't live with it. Yes, it was just a pair of pants, but for me, it was only the beginning. It wasn't "I don't like that outfit". It wasn't just a tantrum. I could not for some reason comprehend the feeling. It was horrible. All I could focus on was everything bad. It didn't make sense. It doesn't make sense. Even looking back and feeling that feeling, I can't explain it. Honestly, the way I felt at that moment was worse than when I watched my grandmother, my rock, take her last breath. I was diagnosed after I started hoarding change. My parents were at their wits end. They had nowhere to turn and weren't sure what was going on. They didn't know something was wrong. I'm sure they just saw their child being a demon and throwing tantrums to get their way. Finally, they found my doctor. She was great. She listened to me and let me do what I needed to do. She ran some tests, had some observation, and finally came to a diagnosis. My parents were very supportive once they found out. They gave me all of the help I needed and worked with my compulsions. They were pretty easy back then. Still, things got worse. Students made fun of me and picked on me when I would act on my compulsions. As if I thought this was normal. I knew it wasn't. I couldn't stop it. Eventually, my compulsions once again changed. Now, they are easily managed and cause me no harm. I know that even as a child, my OCD wasn't as bad as some other cases. It was a lot better than some cases. However, when dealing with that, your world comes crashing down. I was lucky and had a family that stood behind me and the disease they didn't understand. I had parents that did their best to make sure I was never treated differently. Without the way they treated me, I'm not sure how I would have reacted to my diagnosis. Now, I embrace it. I love it. It isn't who I am, because I control it. However, it is a part of who I am. I have won. Not totally. I still have small battles every day. However, I have learned when and how far I can push myself. I have won.
Second, it makes me think of fish. A lot of scientists say it is genetic. This terrifies me. Will I know it when I see it in her? Will I be able to help? Will hers be worse than mine? Will I push her too far? Will she be able to cope with it? Will she beat it or will it beat her? Will I be the cause for her suffering? I mean, even aside from the condition, I had society to deal with. I could understand it and live with it, but it wasn't as easy for others. And I suffered because of that.
Lastly, I would like to tell my daughter something.
Fish, it does get better. It hurts like hell to battle every single day, but battling leads to conquering. If you do have OCD, I am here for you. No matter what. Not everyone may understand, but I will do my best to make sure that they don't care. I don't care what I have to do. I will do my best to make sure you still have a normal life. I will do my best to make sure that it is as easy as possible for you. I will do anything and everything. Just know that as long as you keep fighting, you CAN win. I still fight it, but it has gotten easier. I promise. One day, you will win. Just fight a little at a time. I will fight with you. Your father has fought alongside me from the time he saw it in action. He always knew it was there, but after my first breakdown, he stuck by me. He will stick by you. He will do anything he can to help you. If its you, a sibling, or someone you meet, remember that they can't control it. Remember that it isn't their fault. Don't hate them or pick on them. Support them. They fight every single day.