Sometimes, people who have been through a tragedy lose their ability to hope. We lose our ability to find joy, because we're so afraid it will be taken away again. We think that every smile comes with a price, that every piece of happiness comes with a side of tears.
We lose our ability to celebrate without fear.
As I've progressed through this pregnancy and into raising this beautiful boy, I've had kind of a spiritual rebirth as well. I've blogged about this before; I've been making myself stop and enjoy the moment.
I've been making myself celebrate, and I've been making the "what ifs" in my head be quiet. Any time one of them has presented itself, I've prayed about it.
My little guy is awesome.
Motherhood is a joy.
I do NOT want to sully it with fear or worry.
So I'm praying through it.
I feel like I could explode with happiness.
I'm sleep-deprived, stressed about money, smell like formula, and have, on occasion, forgotten to shower...but I don't care.
I'm happy.
JD's Baby Dedication was last Sunday (fitting,that our wee Irishman would be dedicated on St. Patrick's Day!), and we were so honored that our church family allowed us the opportunity to present our little miracle to our congregation! Several members of our families came; people from our home churches (past and present) came; and we all celebrated in a moment I thought I'd never see happen.
A Baby Dedication! For MY baby! I prayed so hard for that day!!!!! To see it come to pass--words cannot describe how happy I was, to take part in that! I can't even verbalize it! I hope that the people who were there understand how amazing that was...
To be told you can't have children..to spend years in prayer and research, to be told "no" so many times....to be told that the son you just delivered almost died at birth (cord issues)...to almost give up, but to have so many friends and family keep you uplifted in prayers and encouragement...to have a heart's desire...to see God keep His promises...To stand in front of those friends and family members, holding the very answer to your deepest prayers...
Is there anything more beautiful?
My 12-week long leave of absences from my job ends next week...Although I love my job, it's far from easy for me to leave my little guy. He's in good hands...we have amazing childcare that is quite literally, a gift from God! It makes going back just a little easier. I keep telling myself that this is for JD--we are building him a future, and it is worth it. God willing, I'd love to work my tail-end off and get out of debt, ASAP. I know He can make that happen, so that's a huge prayer request right now. I'm asking for peace of mind, as I go back to work; for financial provision; and for financial wisdom, so that there won't be the temptation to spend foolishly. We have a long way to go, but for JD, it will be worth it. We can do this! The prayer on my mirror (I write my prayer points on my mirror in dry-erase marker so I remember to pray over them every day) reminds me to "Consider the Lilies of the Field." Considering how well God has had His hand on JD, and on me, I know that David and I can trust Him with our finances. He cares for us...and He doesn't want us to stain our joy with worry. Thanks for agreeing with us in prayer for this--it's time for financial freedom!
This blog isn't very well-written. I'm pretty scattered, but I think you get the point.
I
have an abundance of joy...I am in the middle of a mountaintop
experience, after so many years of valleys and deserts. I know we can't
stay on the mountain forever, so while I'm here, I will embrace it. I
am so thankful to the Lord...He keeps His promises, He delivers on His
Word. He doesn't give you a heart's desire without seeing it fulfilled,
even when it's not on your timetable. He is faithful; He is truthful.
He is good....
And I am happy. :)
JD is here...
He is perfect...
God is awesome...
And there is
Bliss.
Friday, March 22, 2013
Saturday, March 9, 2013
Breaking the Pieces Back Together...Adventures in Postpartum Depression
It's been a while since I wrote anything...but you can't blame me! I've been a temporary SAHM, learning the ins-and-outs of new motherhood and feeling like every day is a minor mountain to climb. It keeps me busier than I ever realized! I've eschewed makeup for mornings with JD, and I currently live in my pajamas. Learning a "new normal" is a full-time gig that I do NOT look forward to giving up when I go back to work! Of course, I actually like my job, which is nice...but motherhood is, and always has been, where my heart is. Wish it paid the bills! But, I digress...
About 4 weeks post-birth, something unexpected happened to me...something I had been warned about, but chose to ignore until it was almost too late. I believed a lie. I believed everyone else I knew was a Supermom that had everything figured out, and that I was the only one who failed at motherhood. I just knew I sucked at this. He cried; I cried. I pumped; I cried. I woke up; I cried. I fed him; I cried. I called my mom; I cried. I went to the doctor; I cried. I literally got to the point where I could not stop crying. I started believing that David and I had made a terrible mistake, and that we should have never traveled down this path...that now it was too late, and I was failing miserably. I could not stop an internal rant that I. Had. Failed.
I had been warned.
Postpartum Depression hit me like a wall over the head.
What right do I have, to cry this much? How could I, who prayed and begged God for this for so long, be so sad? How? I could barely function...
The doctors had warned me; the nurses had warned me. Even the lactation consultants had warned me. Not only was I, as a woman with history of hormonal issues, at a higher risk for PPD; as a mother who was having a child after a loss, PPD was almost a given. I scoffed at the warnings. I didn't believe it. I knew that after all we had been through, there was no way God was going to let me go through that. Motherhood was everything I'd ever wanted; what could possibly make me sad now that I had my dream?
I was wrong.
I shut down.
One morning, after dreaming about playing with both of my children (I hadn't thought about never being able to do that, until that dream), the reality of raising the first child after a loss came to a head. The pressures of the last 3 months broke...the hospital stay, the anxiety, the fear, the self-imposed solitary confinement, the medications, the side effects of the medications (there were 17 at one point), the endless doctors' visits, the consultations and research, the information overload, the lack of sleep--I fell apart. I actually walked out of the bedroom as JD lay crying....I wanted to scream. I felt like I was going to explode.
I called my mom, to come over...and I called my doctor.
I was in danger...
I couldn't stop thinking about how much I missed Hannah, and wanted to be with her--there were crazy, irrational thoughts that I could not, no matter how hard I prayed, get under control. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't breathe. I texted David that I was a failure as a mother, that I wasn't spiritual enough, and that I was a terrible person.
I wanted to crash my car into a cliff (Seriously. I had a plan).
The last time I had thoughts this strongly, I had been trying out a new birth control that sent me over the edge. Realizing this, I had the sudden clarity to know that I had to get medical help immediately. I called the doctor's office, even though I was mortified to do so, and got a prescription sent over right away that I started taking that night.
I started feeling better the next day.
I started enjoying motherhood the next day.
And I started to understand that I am anything but a failure.
I'm a darn good mother.
I value my son over my reputation. I don't care if you think I'm a failure for having to a take little pill to get my hormones figured back out again. I need to be able to care for him. I need to be able to pray, and I believe you can get so chemically messed up that you physically can't even make yourself try to talk to God. And chemically, for now, I need some assistance.
No one ever told me that there are other mothers in the church who struggle with the same things. I am not alone. I'm just not afraid to talk about it.
I am medicated.
And I am unashamed.
I can look at my son and smile now.
I can think about my daughter and not fall apart now.
I called a friend of mine who had been through a similar loss, and she was a huge encouragement. I didn't say anything to anyone else about this until now, because I was trying to get things under control...and let's face it: The church isn't particularly kind to those that struggle with depression or things akin to it. We're a judgmental group, and we're not supposed to be. I've been outspoken about Christians that struggle with depression before--the church does not treat them well. People, we have to have understanding and compassion. The human body can only take so much--the mind can only handle so much. Even the most spiritual human being on the planet has a breaking point....I found mine. I don't plan on being on these medications for long; I don't believe that medication for chemical imbalances should be a permanent "solution." But for now, this is where I am. My family has noticed the change for the better, and has said that they knew I was getting to a very unbalanced place. I'm very grateful for their help, and for their understanding.
The first 2 weeks after JD was born, the sun couldn't set on my happiness...then there were 2 weeks of strange, awful, terrible darkness that didn't make any sense to me...
And now, the sun has come back out again...
So, for the past 2 weeks, I haven't blogged.
I've been too busy enjoying this little man that I'm a mother to.
I've been watching the milestones, and celebrating every single day that I have.
I've been praying for this little guy, and I've been thankful for the hope that I've been given.
And I have been too
Busy
Being
Happy.
:)
About 4 weeks post-birth, something unexpected happened to me...something I had been warned about, but chose to ignore until it was almost too late. I believed a lie. I believed everyone else I knew was a Supermom that had everything figured out, and that I was the only one who failed at motherhood. I just knew I sucked at this. He cried; I cried. I pumped; I cried. I woke up; I cried. I fed him; I cried. I called my mom; I cried. I went to the doctor; I cried. I literally got to the point where I could not stop crying. I started believing that David and I had made a terrible mistake, and that we should have never traveled down this path...that now it was too late, and I was failing miserably. I could not stop an internal rant that I. Had. Failed.
I had been warned.
Postpartum Depression hit me like a wall over the head.
What right do I have, to cry this much? How could I, who prayed and begged God for this for so long, be so sad? How? I could barely function...
The doctors had warned me; the nurses had warned me. Even the lactation consultants had warned me. Not only was I, as a woman with history of hormonal issues, at a higher risk for PPD; as a mother who was having a child after a loss, PPD was almost a given. I scoffed at the warnings. I didn't believe it. I knew that after all we had been through, there was no way God was going to let me go through that. Motherhood was everything I'd ever wanted; what could possibly make me sad now that I had my dream?
I was wrong.
I shut down.
One morning, after dreaming about playing with both of my children (I hadn't thought about never being able to do that, until that dream), the reality of raising the first child after a loss came to a head. The pressures of the last 3 months broke...the hospital stay, the anxiety, the fear, the self-imposed solitary confinement, the medications, the side effects of the medications (there were 17 at one point), the endless doctors' visits, the consultations and research, the information overload, the lack of sleep--I fell apart. I actually walked out of the bedroom as JD lay crying....I wanted to scream. I felt like I was going to explode.
I called my mom, to come over...and I called my doctor.
I was in danger...
I couldn't stop thinking about how much I missed Hannah, and wanted to be with her--there were crazy, irrational thoughts that I could not, no matter how hard I prayed, get under control. I couldn't stop crying. I couldn't breathe. I texted David that I was a failure as a mother, that I wasn't spiritual enough, and that I was a terrible person.
I wanted to crash my car into a cliff (Seriously. I had a plan).
The last time I had thoughts this strongly, I had been trying out a new birth control that sent me over the edge. Realizing this, I had the sudden clarity to know that I had to get medical help immediately. I called the doctor's office, even though I was mortified to do so, and got a prescription sent over right away that I started taking that night.
I started feeling better the next day.
I started enjoying motherhood the next day.
And I started to understand that I am anything but a failure.
I'm a darn good mother.
I value my son over my reputation. I don't care if you think I'm a failure for having to a take little pill to get my hormones figured back out again. I need to be able to care for him. I need to be able to pray, and I believe you can get so chemically messed up that you physically can't even make yourself try to talk to God. And chemically, for now, I need some assistance.
No one ever told me that there are other mothers in the church who struggle with the same things. I am not alone. I'm just not afraid to talk about it.
I am medicated.
And I am unashamed.
I can look at my son and smile now.
I can think about my daughter and not fall apart now.
I called a friend of mine who had been through a similar loss, and she was a huge encouragement. I didn't say anything to anyone else about this until now, because I was trying to get things under control...and let's face it: The church isn't particularly kind to those that struggle with depression or things akin to it. We're a judgmental group, and we're not supposed to be. I've been outspoken about Christians that struggle with depression before--the church does not treat them well. People, we have to have understanding and compassion. The human body can only take so much--the mind can only handle so much. Even the most spiritual human being on the planet has a breaking point....I found mine. I don't plan on being on these medications for long; I don't believe that medication for chemical imbalances should be a permanent "solution." But for now, this is where I am. My family has noticed the change for the better, and has said that they knew I was getting to a very unbalanced place. I'm very grateful for their help, and for their understanding.
The first 2 weeks after JD was born, the sun couldn't set on my happiness...then there were 2 weeks of strange, awful, terrible darkness that didn't make any sense to me...
And now, the sun has come back out again...
So, for the past 2 weeks, I haven't blogged.
I've been too busy enjoying this little man that I'm a mother to.
I've been watching the milestones, and celebrating every single day that I have.
I've been praying for this little guy, and I've been thankful for the hope that I've been given.
And I have been too
Busy
Being
Happy.
:)
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