A Child Called “Idiot”, or Why I’m So Angry at God

The world isn’t fair.  I get it.  I live it.  I know it. I am the poster child of this.  So now that we have that out of the way, I’m quite angry at God.

Rather pissed to be honest. Here’s why:

Today I opened up the news online to see another story of child abuse and neglect.  This one was bad, but was also different.  A child, a four year old child, thought her name was “Idiot”.  Idiot.  They called the child idiot so many times she thought it was her name.  They also had beaten this child and starved her. It was really terrible.

And here I am. A good loving woman with a great marriage and a job and a house and, and, and, SO much love.

I am childless.  I am childless not by choice.

This woman was blessed with a precious gift, a life. This woman who allowed a man to call the child idiot so much that she thought it was her name.  This woman that beat and zip-tied her kid to furniture, and starved her.  This woman was gifted children (there were others in the home). God chose her over me.

God chose her.

Not me. Not my husband.  Not a good married couple with SO much love to give. Nope.  He chose abusive trash. Abusive monsters that caused harm to this child that will last for her life.

I am awash in anger.  How God who loved us so much as to sacrifice his only son so that we may be saved allow this to happen.  There aren’t words enough to describe how I feel.  There aren’t words.  There can never be words.

Clomid wasn’t the do all be all we hoped for.  Only when mixed with Arimidex did it even help.  Now that the Arimidex is no longer used (side effects) the numbers are dropping in the tests, and our best shot was a failure.   We stand here angry and sad and ready to fight and God closed doors and slammed windows and made it impossible for us. Yet he let this monster of a woman have a child who thought her name was idiot.

I don’t have enough faith to carry me through this. I don’t have enough courage to see me to the end. I don’t have the patience to endure this.

I don’t have the faith to believe that somehow this woman, this monster of a woman who called her child idiot for a name, who abused and starved her child is somehow more worthy than I am.  That somehow she gets this gift and I am denied it.

I think if God told me why, I might be okay.  But on this there is no answer.  On this there is no relief.

How do I reconcile the faith that has carried me through all of the other bad things with knowing that I am somehow not “chosen” or “worthy” to have a child?  How do I move though life with the knowledge that I wasn’t chosen and a monster like that was?

I’m sure I’ll figure it all out, eventually.  As for now, I’m starting to plan for that “child free” life and trying really hard not to let this whole thing kill me.


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