This is probably the most personal posting I've ever written on this blog. While most folks find me outgoing, extroverted, loud--pick your type A feature--truth be told I'm a private person who worries a lot about what other people think.
The day we learned O's CF test came back positive was traumatic. We had been assured and told over and over that the likelihood that he had CF was near-impossible--after all, he was so big. My husband was working when I got the phone call. I called my husband, who could barely understand me through the crying and blubbering. Of course, he came home. Before he could leave he needed to tell his boss why he was leaving. His boss was a friend, and someone who also attended our church. Who promptly--with the best of intentions--called his wife. He also told another guy on the job--another member of our church, who, I believe, also made a call or two. Within minutes the majority of the church knew. Matt hadn't even made it home before our phone was ringing off the hook.
We never had a chance. No time to talk, to discuss, to process. I felt exposed and humiliated, and that my child was being attacked. I had a brief few minutes of sadness before it quickly turned to anger. What made this worse--someone from the church called our family members BEFORE we could. Wrong information was shared, and assumptions were made. Our pastor, whom we weren't close with or felt comfortable with, came to our house--without calling just moments after Matt got home. By now, I'm livid--I pounced. Before he could knock I flung the door open, and with fury called him out on the behavior of the so-called "prayer chain" (more like gossip grapevine). His response--they all had good intentions. The pathway to hell my friends.
The only thing Matt and I had decided during our phone call was to NOT tell everyone until we had time to process and understand. We thought we could tell folks on our time--more on a "need to know" basis. I confronted of few of those who instigated the gossip, and I actually received one very heart felt apology. The others told me that it was meant with good intentions, or that it was God's will.
We left this church a couple months later in large part because of this experience. I feel betrayed, and that I could no longer trust this group of people. I know that even though I've denied it to myself and others, I'm still angry. I feel robbed of a moment that I needed to be able to help me accept and deal with what was happening. I need to grieve, and instead I'm filled with anger. Or, maybe I'm using anger to keep myself from grieving.