First a little history. I grew up in a typical mid-western family-dad, mom and 2 sisters. My mother's family are Baptist. My mom, sisters and I attended sunday school every week but didn't stay for church services. My father was not a Baptist, he wanted his family home on Sundays.
Even as a child I never felt comfortable in religious settings. Was it because I was looked down on for my father being a sinner or because at a young age I already knew better?
I followed this practice because I had no say in the matter. But moving to another town put me in control of my life and I stopped attending. Had you asked me if I still believed and was a Baptist, the answer would have been yes. I had never been exposed to anything else.
Fast foreword to my getting married. My folks were furious. Not only was I going to marry a Catholic but was also pregnant. I specifically remember my mom asking what I would tell this child once it was old enough and knew the truth. It was a very tough time. What helped me through it was the fact I was living in another state.
In respect to my parents, I must explain that they were familiar with the "old" Catholic church and had seen families torn apart because the church assumed they "owned" any children conceived in a mixed marriage.
To our heart wrenching misfortune, our baby was full-term and still born. Oh, I was angry with God. I felt I'd done the right thing by getting married and having the baby. I could've chosen a legal abortion. Yet God had the meanness to let our baby die. To me, God was saying: You are not a good or worthy enough person and need to be punished. You can't imagine the rage that existed in me for many years. We went on to have two more children. The pressure of keeping them safe, because I felt responsble for the loss of our first baby, eventually culminated in a breakdown.
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