A few years ago I worked on a political campaign that was very near and dear to my heart. My candidate was the most qualified, the smartest, the most experienced, and was in it for all the right reasons. There was no logical reason for him not to win.
Everyone on the team worked hard and felt confident that even more than our efforts, his qualifications would make the election a sure thing.
The evening after the polls closed we all went to a local bar to eat and drink and wait for the results to come in. I don’t think there was a doubter in the bunch. I don’t think it crossed anyone’s mind that the election might even be close.
I can’t remember if the local news covered the results, or if we just watched them on our iPhones, but I remember at one point things went from total land slide to getting a little too close to comfort. I remember one of my teammates giving me the raised eyebrows, and passing the phone to me under the table. I remember the sinking feeling as the numbers crept closer and closer together.
Despite two or three glasses of wine, those numbers made me feel icily sober. I went into the bathroom, closed the door, turned the lock, and hit the cold tiles hard enough to evoke a protest of pain from my knee caps. The sweet stench of disinfectant surrounded me, and the toilet sweated cool drops of water in the artificially heated air. I raised my eyes to the water stained ceiling, squeezed them shut, and prayed.
“Dear God, Dear Universe, Dear Grama, Dear Whoever is in Charge, please PLEASE let us win this. We deserve it, and we all need it to believe that the system works…” I prayed until some one knocked on the door, then I brushed the dust off the knees of my tights and walked back to our table.
Twenty minutes later the count was over. We had lost.
I was 30 years old, heartbroken, and done praying. If a thoughtful, hopeful, faithful prayer didn’t swing an election that had no business going the wrong way, then I wasn’t going to waste my time anymore.
Since then, I have found myself pleading with the universe many times. Of course in the NICU, where there are no atheists, and when we were stuck in that blizzard in Arizona, and when we had decided to get pregnant again, and even sometimes when I really want something to go my way at work. I tell myself that it’s not prayer, that it’s just releasing good energy into the universe. But really it’s just an admission that I have no control over some things.
When we were in the hospital with Tommy Jr, I didn’t even know what to pray for. I just kept thinking- “Please make it be OK” without letting myself imagine what OK would look like. It wasn’t like the election: OK was a win for my candidate. But once Tommy arrived in the world, so tiny and unfinished and pained, OK was harder to fathom. I still don’t know what OK is.
Now everyday I feel my little girl squirming around in my belly. I want her to be healthy and happy, I want Tom and I to figure out what we’re going to do with our careers, I want everything to be OK. But my instinct to pray, or put out good energy, or whatever, is gone. I don’t know if years of insisting I’m a non-believer has finally set in, or if I’m too afraid to ask for something that might not be possible. Or maybe it’s possible, but not probable, or maybe I’m not capable.
I think I miss prayer, and miss believing that there is someone somewhere who is listening to my pleadings. I can’t get it back though, I think I lost it when I stopped practicing. Right after my Grama died and for a long time after Tommy Jr died I thought they’d stick around to look after me. Now I can’t feel them anymore, and they certainly aren’t bending any rules for us.
Atheism is only a comfort when you’ve run out of hope. But when you’re still feeling optimistic, and still want the universe to hear you, not believing kind of sucks. I’m going to try and get back into practice, and be mindful of the things I hope for. And in the meantime I’ll take these little kicks and rolls as a sign that there is something much bigger out there, even if I can’t tell it what to do.
I know you are capable. Sometimes the things we wish for most don’t seem to come true but in reality, we just have to look a little harder to see the different form they were delivered in. I think being optimistic goes a long way and will produce good things, in one way or another, even though it may seem impossible at times. Your drive to continue is one big positive note. Good luck!