I’m Mourning (My) Lost Motherhood

 

I was a chubby baby, wasn’t I? lol. 

Today I’m grieving the loss of my ability to become a mother. 

No, I did not lose a child. No, I did not get a diagnosis that says I’m unable to have children. But I am mourning the fact that I’m very unlikely to be a biological or adoptive mother due to my vocation. 

Now, I want to make it clear that this doesn’t mean that consecrated virginity is a bad vocation or an invalid one. I would not be discerning it if 1) I didn’t feel like God was calling me to this vocation and 2) if it went against Church teachings. But it’s also not the easiest one to accept because it’s meant giving up a life-long dream of being a wife and mother. In fact, that’s why I stubbornly fought discerning this for so many years. 

As early as 2009-2010, I could feel myself being called to being a CV (though, at the time I didn’t know CV was an actual vocation) but I fought it. Part of it was because I was being pressured to not stay single. I was made to feel like I was just being selfish and that I loved my independence too much. I felt like I was being too picky; that my standards when it came to relationships were too high. So, I pushed back on the idea of staying single. It helped that I truly wanted to be a wife and mother… but deep down I felt like it was forced. Fast-forward 8-9 years, there was someone in my life who wanted to marry me and had waited years for me to be ready… but I couldn’t get past the fact that it didn’t feel right for Christ not to have my heart completely; that a mortal man had to share it. That’s when I knew I had to bite the bullet and live with disappointing everyone who wanted to see me married. 

This discernment has been difficult. I’ve had to give up on the idea of being a wife and mother… and the fact that I may never be a mother has hit me particularly hard lately. As I mentioned in my previous post, I’m still unpacking what I feel God has been asking me to meditate on — especially what’s in my heart — and that’s a lot of love I have to give. 

I’ve been officially discerning consecrated virginity for 2 years now. It was 2 years ago this month that I knew I had to pull the plug on whatever was going on with the guy. The fact that being a CV would mean never being a mother (other than a spiritual mother) isn’t a new one that has caught me off guard. Still, it isn’t easy to reflect on. 

It may be because I always assumed that I would be able to give that love that I feel overflows to a husband and children. It may be that I’m almost halfway to 37. Yes, I know it’s not ladylike to state my age and that some of you don’t believe I’m as old as I am because I apparently still don’t look like I’m over 25-28, but I’m saying it. It may just be my biological clock reminding me that if I ever want a chance to have kids, my window of opportunity is rapidly coming to a close. It could be that I’ve been spending too much time around friends with babies and little children and the fact that I’ve always love little kids. Or it could be that God is allowing me to mourn this loss of motherhood now as part of the discernment so I can be certain of the vocation going into the last stages of the discernment process. Who knows, it could be a combination of all the above. One thing that I’m certain of is that I’m definitely grieving it… and I’m grateful to God for it. 

Was that a plot twist for some of you? Yes, you read that right. I’m glad I’m mourning the loss of motherhood. And, no, I don’t say that because I get a sick masochistic thrill out of the pain. I’m glad because I know God will bring good out of it, like when I lost my eyesight. I think it will help me embrace and enrich my spiritual motherhood even more. I don’t know how yet but I know God brings good out of seemingly bad situations… although this one isn’t bad. 

As I said, I’m being forced (in a good way!) to dive deeper into what’s in my heart. Since I cannot be a biological or adoptive mother, how can I share the love in my heart as a spiritual mother? How can I use my maternal instincts to better serve the Church and my diocese as a consecrated virgin? This is definitely something I’ll be thinking about and discussing with my spiritual director because this will be something that will be an important part of my discernment and vocation. 

Anyway, I wanted to share these thoughts because I feel like they don’t get talked about enough amongst those who are single and unsure of their vocations and /orfor those discerning consecrated virginity. It’s normal to grieve over the loss of the idea of marriage and motherhood. It’s part of our humanity and the gift of being a woman. 

I think that’s enough soul-baring for now, don’t you? lol. 

I hope you are all doing well!

As always, thank you for reading and God bless! 

But I’m Made for Love…

 

“But I’m made for love / Yes, I’m made for love…”

These lyrics to a song I would’ve never listened to if it hadn’t randomly played on Spotify have been replaying in my mind for a couple of days. It has become the theme to my last week and (maybe) the rest of this month. 

I took a break from social media this past week because I was feeling burnt out. I knew that once I threw a mini rant about Simone Biles equating losing her ability to do gymnastics to losing one’s eyesight that I had enough of social media for a while. But, that was only part of the problem. 

I had been feeling disconnected from God for a while now. It’s like I came crashing down from the high of making my final promises as Benedictine oblate and I was left thinking, “… now what?” As the time passed I found myself using social media more and more frequently. I couldn’t explain why except that it seemed to be the only thing that calmed down my restlessness. But, at the same time, it made things worse. I could no longer concentrate on any of my prayers, even the short ones. It added to the feeling that I was distancing myself from God even more. 

It became painfully obvious that I’d somehow deviated from the path He’d set me on. I saw what was missing — the Sacraments — and what was adding to the fatigue: social media. 

I haven’t attended Mass this the last Mass I went to at Clear Creek Abbey. I haven’t gone to confession since my spiritual director and I met up before my trip. I’ve been sick (blood tests have since helped figure out what was causing me to feel sick) and I’ve lacked transportation of the odd Sunday that I’ve felt well enough to attend Mass have kept me at home and away from the Sacraments. Never has it been more obvious that the one way I will be able to survive whatever God has in store for me is to frequent the Sacraments more often. I have to figure out how to do that with my circumstances but I know God will provide somehow. 

As for social media, I think I was using it as a substitute for community that I’m missing at home. I don’t see my friends too often as we’re all spread out in Southern California and then across the States as more and more people leave California. But the negativity of social media was getting to me. And the constant bombardment of updates was frazzling my mind. I realized that I need to do one thing at a time or else I get overwhelmed. Social media, with its infinite scrolling and automatic refreshing timelines was too much for me. 

That’s why I took the break — too much outside noise and not enough quality time with Christ. So, I decided to make an uncharacteristically impulsive (if you can call it that) decision to detox from social media for a couple of days. 

During my time away from social media I felt like God was asking me three big questions:

“What’s in your heart?”

“What’s most important to you?”

“What are you willing to give up for Me?”

While I’ve yet to figure out all the answers to those questions, the partial answers have gone back to the song: “I was made for love.”

What’s in my heart? More than I can share on here but, to begin with, I would love to return to how I was in the early days of my reversion and unapologetically be myself. I miss not worrying about looking uneducated & ignorant on faith matters. The reality is that I don’t know as much as my friends and peers do. I’m certainly no theologian despite having amazing mentors and even going to graduate school for Biblical Theology. The truth is that I study theology and philosophy but I don’t remember details. My brain doesn’t work like that. I remember things that stand out because it’s usually relevant to me at the moment. It sounds egotistical, and perhaps it is, but once I live it, I can then use my experience to better explain things to someone in the future. It’s just how I learn and process things. And that’s okay. So, I’m going to try to not let my ignorance get to me. Instead, I’ll continue praying the Litany of Humility so that I can truly embrace the ridicule and comments that will be made as I live my life as authentically as possible; as I ask more and more questions about faith matters that I “should know” but don’t. 

What’s most important to me? Living a life full of love and faith. St. Teresa of Calcutta has been popping up a lot in my life lately and I think it’s because I can learn a lot from her. Her entire life was about living a life full of love and faith. She loved people with her whole heart /!: saw Christ in every single person she encountered. I want to be able to do that, even with the people who’ve hurt me. I know that regardless of who my future spouse will be — whether he will be Christ or a mortal man, I have so much love in my heart that I can give to others, just like Mother Teresa did. Obviously, living a faith-filled life also means living my life according to the holy Rule of St. Benedict and detaching myself more from worldly things. 

What am I willing to give up? Everything. How can I claim that my love for Christ runs deep if I’m not willing to give everything up for Him? I’ve come to the point where I’m tired of living my life in fear: fear of disappointing others, fear of losing my worldly comforts, and fear of being left with nothing & no one. If it means giving up everything  — family, friends, my hometown, etc., I’m willing to do that. I’ve realized that I will never be truly free until I place my entire trust in His Divine Providence. I cannot keep living life in fear of what I can lose. I must live it thinking about all I can gain at the end of a life lived for Christ. 

As a result, I won’t be as active on social media as I’ve been because of all the internal unrest that creeps into my day when I’m on it for long periods of time. When I can’t focus on any prayers — even the short ones — I know it’s time to cut back. When I do share something it’ll be because I want to share something with friends. Not followers; friends. I refuse to look at the number of followers on my account because it’s just a number and I don’t want to think of people as just a number or a “set of followers.” It’s so disrespectful (in my opinion). 

Like I said, there’s still so many more answers that I need to take time to pray about but I think this is a good start for now. 

“But I’m made for love / Yes, I’m made for love…”

Let’s see just where this quest to live my life full of love and faith takes me. 

15 Years Since My Reversion…

 (I’m posting this a day early.)

15 years ago, I renounced my “wild child” ways when I reverted to the Church. I know many of you have been following this blog since its inception nearly 14 years ago so you’ve been along for the majority of this journey but very few know what my life was like before my reversion.

Here’s what my life was like roughly between the ages of 16 and 21:

I attended Santa Monica College which allowed me & my friends to go to the beach & great restaurants in between classes.

I went to concerts 2-5 times a week. I was even on a first-name basis with the security guards at the concert venues. I spent a lot of time there, particularly The Troubadour in West Hollywood. 

I didn’t think twice about spending hours browsing Amoeba Records in Hollywood, going through their stacks of vinyl. 

Sometimes we would simply drive down Sunset Blvd. from the 405 down to Hollywood, blasting music and singing and dancing along while stuck in traffic, only because we wanted to be out and nothing else seemed fun at the time. 

If you’ve read my first novel, you have an idea of what I’m talking about because I took inspiration from real-life experiences to write it. 

Sure, I didn’t get my driver’s license until after my reversion (and after my father’s death), but that wasn’t a huge deal as friends didn’t have any problem picking me up, especially since I always pitched in for gas money. 

Even though I had a “dream life”, I did stick out like a sore thumb in many aspects. I never drank alcohol (& still haven’t). I never touched drugs. I never even took a puff of a cigarette. And I most definitely didn’t “spend the night” with any of the guys who were (stupidly) bold enough to try. 

I didn’t have a curfew yet rarely did I come home after 11:30 p.m. The only time I came home in the wee hours of the night was because a friend & I drove down to San Diego for a concert & we got  back in Los Angeles at 4 a.m. If we hadn’t stopped by at a mutual friend’s house after the concert to watch Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory we would’ve gotten back earlier. 

I was a “good girl” in those aspects but there was so much wrong at the same time. 

I paid too much attention to how others perceived me. I definitely had a problem with vanity and pride. I never went far enough to diet (I was always naturally thin) nor do any cosmetic enhancements but, boy, did I spend too much on clothes and other things that I thought would make me look and feel “worthy” of the circles I ran in. Think keeping up with the Joneses for the late teens-early 20s set. 

I also had major trust issues with some of my so-called friends. I had a distinct feeling that if I wasn’t careful, they would do something to hurt me. I ended up being right but not before things got out of hand. Again, if you’ve read the first novel, you’ll get an idea of what that was like. 

I wasn’t honest with the people I didn’t trust… which I did after I got the terrible advice to do so from someone who should’ve known better. Ever wonder why I despise lying so much now? Because I was so immersed in it for so many years — from those I thought I could trust and from myself when I erroneously used it to “protect” myself. Now I’d rather suffer the consequences and hurt rather than lie. 

I don’t know how I walked away… other than it was God and the intercession of St. Jude. 

There were a lot of things that set off the domino chain.

First, my paternal grandmother died in March 2005. I was told that towards the end of her life, whenever she heard the door opening, she would ask if it was me or my dad, whom she wanted to see before she passed. (Side note: sadly, neither of us got to see her again before she died.) She was my only living abuelita and the grandparent I spent most of my time with so her death hit me hard. And my so-called friends decided to use this time to troll me and humiliate me. I won’t go into details but let’s just say I knew after this that I had to stop hanging out with them. 

That set off the intensified attacks from the so-called friends. The bullying and attacks got so bad that my chronic anxiety got worse… to the point where I was in the ER often. The anxiety was manifesting itself in physical symptoms that couldn’t be pinpointed to a single thing; not even anxiety at the time. Me getting sick saw the rest of the friends who I thought I could trust backstab me and I was left on my own. 

All of that left me in a bad way, psychologically, emotionally, and physically. The doctors said they didn’t think I would make it to my 23rd birthday (2-3 years away) if I kept going down that path. During a moment of desperation, I asked St. Jude to intercede for me. 

I was always Catholic in name only, something I made known to the Mormon guy I dated at the end of high school; we could date but I wasn’t converting to Mormonism. I had a picture of Our Lady of Guadalupe hanging next to my bed from the time I was 7 years old and I had a statue of St. Jude in my bedroom since childhood but we didn’t go to Mass and I hadn’t received the Sacraments since my confirmation when I was 13. I’ve already written about this (you can search the tags) so I won’t go into that. But, no, I wasn’t a practicing Catholic. 

A year and a month after my grandmother died: I lost all my friends and I got so sick that we were worried about what would end up happening to me. No, i was never suicidal or anything like that but the chronic anxiety was messing with my heart, digestive, and immune systems. I had nothing to lose… but so much to gain. 

“Okay, what do you got?” I asked St. Jude. I was slightly skeptical as I had been fed the liberal kool-aid throughout my entire education up to that point. I had prayed that my ex-boyfriend and I wouldn’t break up when I was 16-17 (this is pre-Mormon guy) and when I didn’t get the answer I wanted, I think I decided that there was no point in me praying if I didn’t get what I wanted. I was poorly catechized and didn’t know that wasn’t how it worked. In hindsight, that unanswered prayer was the best thing because that ex is still known as a “poopy diaper” and “spawn of…” you-know-who amongst those who knew him.

Slowly, things started to fall into place. I met some lovely people who replaced the toxic friends I had, some of were Catholic but mostly Christians. My prayers to St. Jude saw me slowly getting healthier again once it was determined that it was all anxiety causing the issues. I returned to school (I had taken a break when I was too sick to attend). Friends from my pre- “wild child” period also returned in my life. 

It didn’t take long before I realized that it was St. Jude’s prayers that were “working.” I can still remember that warm September evening when I thought, “Okay, what is this faith I was ‘born into’? I should look into it…” which became “I need to change my life… and I think Catholicism may be the answer.” That led to countless hours of research and reading. The rest is reversion history. 

While I don’t remember the exact day that I made the decision to renounce the way I’d been living, I remember that it was after the beginning of autumn and, over the years, I’ve had the date of the 23rd pop up in my mind as the official date for some reason. So, that’s why every September 23rd I now celebrate my reversion. 

It’s been quite the adventure up to this point but it’s been so worthwhile. As I wrote on my Instagram caption: “I would not take a single thing back, even all the tears, pain, & suffering. I’m financially poorer than I was then but I’m richer in all the other ways that matter. My career options got more limited after last year’s health trauma but I’m freer to do whatever God’s will is for my life.” 

Here’s to 15 years since the best decision I’ve ever made; 15 years of falling in love with the Truth. And here’s to 15 years (or more) of more growth, healing, and all those wonderful advetures God still has in store for me.

Feast of the Exaltation of the Cross

 

“Behold, the Cross of the Lord! fly, ye ranks of the adversary! The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, hath prevailed. Alleluia.”

Happy feast of the Exaltation of the Cross! I was blessed to have kissed a first class relic of the True Cross thanks to my former spiritual director. I cannot tell you the overwhelming love I felt in that moment. Whether it was my love for Christ, his love for me, or a moment in which I felt the two loves meeting, I don’t know. All I know is that never had the power of His love for me ever hit me as hard as it did at that moment. I will never forget it.

Lord, I know I don’t keep the greatest love story — Your death on the Cross for the salvation of all humanity — in my mind but I hope that it’s deeply embedded in my heart. If it is not, I ask that You please make it so. I want all my actions, words, & life to reflect Your love. 

I pray that You empty me of my selfishness, pride, vanity, & all other things that keep me from doing what I can to do something good for Your kingdom. 

May I always have the courage & fortitude to carry my own crosses & follow where You May lead me. ❤️

I’m Officially a Benedictine Oblate!

On August 22nd — the feast of the Queenship of Mary (OF calendar) / Immaculate Heart (EF calendar) — I became Sister Marie-Therese to the monks of Our Lady of the Annunciation of Clear Creek Abbey in Oklahoma. 

Yes, you read that right! After two years of novitiate — the first of which was spent as an Oblate novice with the Monks of Norcia (before transferring to Clear Creek) — I have finally made my Final Act of Oblation. Cue the tears of joy! 

If you’ve been following my journey, you’ve known what a roller coaster it’s been; how many years it took to get to this point. But I’m so grateful for everything that happened, the craziness of retreat at the Shrine of St. Maximilian Kolbe in June 2019 included. I wouldn’t change a single thing about my experiences. I won’t go into all of that as I want to focus on this specific event. 

During the St. Andrew Christmas novena last year, one of my intentions was that my eyesight would be good enough to enjoy a trip to Clear Creek as I wanted to visit and make my final promises. While my eyesight continues to improve against all odds (thanks, Bl. Carlo Acutis!), a trip didn’t seem in the cards for me this year. A planned trip in the Spring fell through when my mom began her first of many oral surgeries. Without my caregiver, there was no way I would be able to get there by myself; I haven’t regained enough of my eyesight to do all things myself. I had hoped that maybe by the autumn I’d be able to go but then my next round of doctor appointments began piling up for the autumn and it didn’t look like it was going to happen… until a dear friend invited me to tag along with her and her family on a road trip to the Abbey. We planned for the trip for a couple of months. I had my oblate name approved by my oblate master at the beginning of the summer, and prayed that if it was God’s Will for me to finally make my promises, that all obstacles would be removed. And they were. 

It ended up being a quick trip — 2 days on the road to CC, the weekend at the monastery, and then another 2 days back to L.A. — but it was the best trip I’ve had in my adult life (so far). Seeing the beauty of the states we traveled through (California, Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, and Oklahoma) made me think about God’s goodness and how the whole thing seemed to be a metaphor for life. I wrote about that on this Instagram post (click to read and see the pictures). I learned a lot about myself; gave me the confidence I had lost (or perhaps never really had) after the intense year I had last year with all my medical issues. 

I keep saying that I left my heart at Clear Creek because that’s what it feels like. I have never felt so much at home as I did at the monastery. Yes, that includes my actual home. I don’t know how to describe it other than I felt like I not only belong at Clear Creek but that it had always meant to be my home; that I never really knew what “home” meant until I arrived there. It’s technically already my spiritual home and the monks at CC are now my brothers and family but it feels like much more than that. It was so hard for me to leave; I didn’t want to. The room (“cell”) I stayed at felt like my actual room and even got a little misty eyed as I said goodbye (“but, really, more like a ‘see you soon’”) to it. Side note: it looks like the room where I stayed was once a cell of one of the monks which is pretty darn cool! I shared a couple of photos of where we stayed at this Instagram post.

The ceremony itself was quick but so beautiful. The ceremony happened before the Solemn High Mass. I knelt in front of the altar of St. Benedict and promised to live my life according to the Holy Rule of St. Benedict and the statutes of Oblates. I hand-wrote my final promises the night before the ceremony which I read aloud at the ceremony. It was the first time I’d written anything that long (or, really, anything beyond a word) since losing my eyesight last summer. It was also the first time I’ve read anything aloud in years, which was a bit nerve wrecking for me since I read very slowly due to my limited eyesight. But I did it! At the end, I got to kiss a relic of St. Benedict as tears rolled down my cheeks. I will never forget that moment. 

The ceremony was extra special because I was able to make my final promises with my dear friend with whom I’d traveled to CC. We had talked about hopefully being at CC at the same time one day but never did I imagine it would be so soon or for such a special day. I’ve known her for so long (since she was a teenager) and I’ve always admired her so to be able to not only share this beautiful experience with her but also be able to call her my sister for life was a true gift from God. 

I’ve written a lot on Instagram already so I’ll just link this last post I shared about the trip to Clear Creek. I want to avoid repeating myself too much but I will repost this bit that I think is important (for those who won’t be able to access my IG posts) regarding my Oblate name, which I know a lot of people were curious about:

“I initially wanted to go with ‘Francesca’ in honor of St. Frances of Rome but there were so many reasons …. why i ended up choosing the name of Marie-Therese; the biggest reason is that I wanted to honor my two biggest spiritual inspirations... Our Lady is the Queen of Virgins (thus my Queen & role model if God truly calls me to consecrated virginity). St. Therese is the saint with whom I most identify with in terms of temperament & the saint who has been a huge part of my life & the biggest moments of my life since my reversion 15 years ago. I chose the French version of Mary in honor of Clear Creek Abbey’s French Solesmes roots as well.”

I had been thinking about my Oblate name for literally years. What can I say? I’m a planner. Lol. I didn’t realize until after the name of Marie-Therese was approved that both were my co-patronesses for the year during which I became an Oblate novice. 

I’ve really grown to love and admire our Blessed Mother, especially this past year. Through her title of Sorrowful Mother, I was able to confront the deep wounds I had (and still have) in my heart, something that began this past Lent. It has brought a lot of healing and peace to both my life and my relationships with those who’ve hurt me in the past. Through her title of Immaculate Heart, I’ve begun to feel like I’m finally becoming the woman God has always meant for me to be. She is whom i most want to be like; my role model of true femininity and discipleship. 

St. Therese, despite being one of the most popular saints — is actually a sort of unsung hero when it comes to my health recovery. Yes, I bug Bl. Carlo for his continued intercession and I credit him for everything that led to my diagnoses but St. Therese has accompanied me throughout this journey as well. I was admitted to the hospital (where I officially began my recovery) in between her feast days in the EF and OF calendars last year. Whenever I’ve felt at my lowest or have had little relapses, I’ve found her autobiography to be a sort of spiritual medication for my weary soul. She’s been my heavenly friend for most of my adult life; one of the few saints that has been consistently in my life since my reversion. I’ve been told I remind people of St. Therese because of the sufferings I’ve been through; a humbling compliment as I feel like St. Therese had more holiness in her little pinky nail than I have in my entire body. I’m so far from having just an iota of her holiness but it’s been her Little Way that has helped me survived some of the most difficult times of my life. 

You see why I couldn’t choose between the two and why I was relieve that Fr. B approved the hyphened name? I couldn’t ask for two better patronesses who will accompany and inspire me as an Oblate for the rest of my life. 

I want to thank you all for the prayers… and donations. Two years ago, I felt called to become an oblate novice but didn’t have the funds for the Chicago retreat. On the suggestion of a now-priest friend, a GoFundMe was set up and the funds were raised in only 5 hours! This time around, I didn’t ask for any donations but a generous anonymous donor from my home parish donated some that really helped more than I thought, especially when we had to change hotels at the last minute for safety reasons in New Mexico. And, of course, the invaluable prayers which are worth gold. I know you guys have been praying for me and this journey and I cannot thank you all enough for them. Please know that I prayed for you all at the monastery because it was a team effort — you guys helped me get there. 

I know I will write more in the future but, at least, here’s a quick summary of the trip. I got home a week ago but I’m still unpacking what happened and it’s still sinking in so expect more posts in the near future. 

Okay, this post is sufficiently long, don’t you think so? Lol. Mea culpa. Y’all know my tendency to write a lot. 

I hope you’ve all been well! 

As always, thanks for reading and God bless!