Crisis of No Faith

So, I have been wondering how to put into words what I have been feeling lately. I think I am having a crisis of no faith. For those of you who weren't raised with me, or by someone who was also raised with me, a little background. Both my parents were raised Catholic; my dad was even an altar boy. However, neither of them was religious growing up, and my dad, as a teenager, became an atheist. My brother and I were raised as such with a deep distrust of any institutionalized religion, but we were encouraged to investigate and learn about all faiths so we could, eventually, make up our own minds (with my dad knowing full-well what our decisions would be.) Well, lately I have been regretting not having any kind of faith. I wish I could believe that some of the things that happen to me, to friends, and family all had a greater purpose. I wish I didn't believe that the randomness of life was just that - random. I wish I could believe that I was "meant" to meet P-Daddy and we were meant to have all these kids (and that it wasn't just 4 catastrophic failures of birth control because, damn, who has that much bad luck with birth control?){not that I consider having my children bad luck...see what I mean...I wish I could believe that I was "meant" to have them}.

My greatest wish is that I had some kind of belief in a heaven, nirvana, paradise, what-have-you. The only thing I truly am terrified of is death. Logically I know I will die one day. It has always scared me; sometimes it scares me so much that I think it will scare me to death - imagine the irony in that. Well, it never truly hit me how devastating my view of death and what happens after has been to me. When I was little, I asked what death was, and what happens after. I was told that everything just ends. You don't see or hear or breath or taste. You get to chose between being baked in an oven until you are rendered into dust, or being put in a box in the ground to slowly degenerate and get eaten by bugs in a strange circle of life. The moment S was born was when I truly realized how horribly that knowledge has affected me. The thought of any of them either being cremated or buried has the power to render me immobile. The knowledge that they will die some day is almost more than I can take. I have had a recurring nightmare about having to make the decision that leads to the end of one of my children's life (I will not say which one) and the dream still has the power to wake me up sobbing in the night. I wish I had some hope of being with them forever. I want to see my pets again. I want to hug my grandfathers again. I don't want to spend eternity alone (not that I will care once it happens).

And then I obsess over sad blogs like this I wish I had the strength of conviction this woman has. Although I do dispute the idea that all pro-choice, non-religious people vilify her and people like her. Not that I could ever hope she would read my blog or even know that I exist, but if I could I would tell her this: I am staunchly pro-choice and a non-believer. However, I would have made the same choice as she did...I too would have brought my child into the world so that I could spend a few seconds, minutes, hours, days or months with them, and so that I would be comforted by the knowledge that they died in my arms or the arms of my husband.

Wow, this has been morose and rambling, so I apologize for that.