Two pink lines…
So many conflicting thoughts running through my mind making me want to throw up.
You’d think that the third time around wouldn’t catch me so off guard. You’d think I would know it was coming. That I’d know how to handle it, but the feelings all come swirling back, as if it was my first time being pregnant again.
How do I tell my husband?
When do I tell him?
Will he be happy? Sad? Upset?
Am I really ready for all of this...again?
I stared at the strip again, wondering if I could have made a mistake. Two lines beam unmistakably back at me then wash out of view as tears slip past my nose blurring my view.
Finding out you’re pregnant is a big deal, no matter how many times you’ve given birth. It’s another life forming inside of you. This means a lot of changes! Moodiness... Morning sickness… A growing body… restless nights… frequent bathroom trips… that never satisfied appetite…. Not to mention all the looks and comments from well-meaning, or purely ignorant, people that some days roll right off your shoulders and other days get stuck rolling around and around, unrelentingly, between your ears.
Being pregnant is hard, but it is also beautiful! You get to feel the swimming butterflies and the little hands and feet of the one forming inside of you, before anyone else in the world even knows their name or that they even exist.
Personally, pregnancy is not something I look forward to, but I LOVE babies! Snuggling that precious bundle, whom I had struggled to create for nine months, makes it all worth it in the end.
One of the hardest parts for me, is remembering all the challenges I went through with my first two pregnancies and wondering if I will have to go through them again.
Will morning sickness hit me as hard?
Will I have another miscarriage and have to deal with all the emotional and physical repercussions?
Will we be able to afford having another baby?
Will postpartum depression rear its ugly head again?
Will my relationship with my husband be as difficult?
So many questions, one after another float into my mind and overwhelm me. I have to remind myself to take a step back, breathe, and remember the One who is in control. I need to remember the snuggles and the smiles that come at the end of all of pregnancy, knowing that somehow it will all work out in the end.
Pregnancy may be hard and we may not have everything worked out, but it is still amazing. I should consider it an honor above all, as there are so many people who want nothing more than to be pregnant and yet it is an impossibility for them, for whom my heart breaks.
I do think that the more times I am pregnant, the more I learn to enjoy it, as it does go by so quickly (even when you swear it is taking FOREVER when you are in the moment—the last 2 weeks, especially). I have and am learning to see joy through the uncomfortable.
The heart learning to beat blood through the nauseating sickness.
The arms that are just learning to stretch through tossing and turning all night.
The feet that are gaining strength in kicking bruised ribs.
The life that is preparing to come out in constant potty breaks.
That life is a miracle growing within me, that God has blessed me with; to hold, grow and raise up in His ways.
So for the upcoming months, may I never forget to give thanks for the little life that is growing so determinedly within me. May the life that I don’t even know yet, see the light of day, and be a blessing to those who meet him/her. And may my baby grow up to know the King of the Universe and serve Him in whatever way they were created to. And may I have the discernment to pick up on their gifts and abilities, teaching and training them in the way they should go. –This, a mother’s prayer, all to the will and purpose of the Creator of Life itself.
I think this is the last book your mom read thru and she told me it encouraged her greatly. Also, it is what you were all reading in at the end of her life here on earth and we want you to keep it to reread and be encouraged by in the future.
WOW! I read this in the front cover of the book “God at the Controls” the other day when I was recommending the book to a friend. It was written by one of my Aunts (who has since passed away) to our family. I had no idea it was even there. I remember reading this book sometime in high school and absolutely loving it (with no idea it had been read to me years earlier; though I always wondered why it seemed so familiar)!
When I was flipping through its torn out pages again, I came across this underlined section:
“If the outcome of our situation had not turned out as it did…if all four of us had been killed, God would still be God. He would still be holy, just, and righteous. He would still be the same loving and caring God that He is.”
Knocked down by the weight of what I had just read; the realization that this was the last book my mom may have read, or at least one we read with her before she died, completely seized my breath away. How fitting!
It is so easy after a tragedy happens, to shake our fists at heaven, screaming out in anguish at God, “Why would you let this happen?! I thought you were supposed to be a loving God! A loving God wouldn’t do this to me!! Where were you?!”
I have heard of many people who have lost a loved one and as a result have turned their back on God.
The age old question of Sovereignty, “Surely a loving God wouldn’t….”
Is it really our right to tell God what He should or shouldn’t do? Are we bigger than He is? More powerful than all of His might? Able to comprehend and know how everything works together?
Losing a loved one is one of the hardest, most painful, things in the world. I lost my mom when I was six years old and almost 20 years later, I still miss her. There are some nights, I still shed tears from the heartache locked up inside. Do I fully understand why she had to die? No. I may never find out, but that’s not the point.
The point isn’t about me and my own hurt and simple understanding. It’s about God and who He is.
The fact that my mom died, doesn’t change who God is. It doesn’t change the fact that He is holy. It doesn’t change the fact that He is just; that He is righteous and loving.
The only thing that changes is my own viewpoint of Him.
Let’s say, I do view my mom being ripped out of my life at such a young age as terribly unjust, what then?
I may start questioning who God is and if He really is who He claims to be. I may question if He does really exist. Sometimes, that can be a good thing, because it forces me to think about things on a deeper level. At the same time, though, I need to come back to the same place Job did.
So what if I view my mom dying as unjust. Who am I to tell God what is and isn’t just? Who created justice in the first place? Who created my mom to begin with? Is God not our Maker? Can’t He do what he wants with His own creation?
In Isaiah 45:5-7, 9 it says, “I am the LORD, and there is no other; apart from me there is no God. I will strengthen you, though you have not acknowledged me, so that from the rising of the sun to the place of its setting men may know there is none besides me. I am the LORD, and there is no other. I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and create disaster; I, the LORD, do all these things. Woe to him who quarrels with his Maker, to him who is but a potsherd among the potsherds on the ground. Does the clay say to the potter, ‘What are you making?’ Does your work say, ‘He has no hands?'”
I don’t know how many times I’ve heard people say, “Well I couldn’t worship a God who … takes my mom away from me, lets thousands of people get slaughtered in such a horrific way, lets children go hungry; you fill in the blank.”
I think we all have to wrestle through this question at some point in our life.
One of the hardest things to come to a realization of, isn’t so much the fact that people die, but the fact that believing God—The Maker –is completely Holy and can do whatever He wants, means that we/I have no control…over anything! We could be snatched up or gone in the next instance and the world wouldn’t even know we were missing. Our children—that baby you’ve spent hours lovingly gazing at while they were peacefully sleeping—could be gone; never to be held or cared for again. That’s SCARY! Think about it. We put so much of our time, energy and finances into trying to control as much as we possibly can. We want our own house—so we can control what we do with it; to control where our money goes. We want the best insurance and security—so we can control who gets the right to our stuff. We want our own clothes and more of them—so we can control when we wear them and how we feel in them and be able to control how people view us.
In the end the truth is we aren’t in control, we never were and never will be. God is. We don’t always like God being the one in control. So, we try and turn our backs, saying "it’s not true" and pretending that we can control the things in our lives. The result is being worn out, drained, and worried with built up fear of the future or the “what if’s” haunting our ephemeral days.
The crazy thing is, once we let go of all the things we’re so desperately trying to control, letting God have them; instead of the world falling to pieces--there's this peace that filters in. We start believing that God is who He says He is. He is on the throne. He knows what is best. His ways are not our ways, nor His understanding our understanding. He is God and we are man. Believing that, despite our feelings, brings confidence and peace; maybe it doesn't happen all at once, but more and more each time we put our faith in God's hands.
That being said, if you are going through the loss of a loved one or know of someone who is, take what it says in Romans 12:15 to heart, “Rejoice with those who rejoice; mourn with those who mourn.”
It’s ok, good and completely healthy to grieve! But in the end remember:
God will still be God. He will still be holy, just, and righteous. He will still be the same loving and caring God that He is and has always been.
Lately I’ve been feeling insignificant.
Feeling like my opinion doesn’t matter.
What kind of wisdom do I hold that others would even want to read and consider?
Who am I to say or write anything?
I’m still learning. I’m just starting off in my journey as a mom and wife; four short years of being married and almost three years of being a mom. I don’t feel like I have anything really put together. How can I say, this is the way you should do it, when I haven’t truly even proven it myself? Sure, something may have worked once or for a week or even off and on occasionally, but does that give me the right to say, this is how it should be? The only absolute authority, wisdom and knowledge comes from God and His Word. But who am I to say I have even that figured out?
The more I read the Bible the more I feel like I know nothing. Sure, I read my Bible every day and do almost any Bible study going on, because I’m hungry to know more about God and to have fellowship with other believers. I go to church, every Sunday I possibly can, because it’s been so instilled in me and I love it! I’ve been through two years of Bible College, multiple camps, training programs and mission trips, but still I feel insignificant. When someone looks at me I feel like they see another face in the sea of so many, a young, 25 year old mother, who is just starting life.
Yet, I think God is using this in my life, to do as it says in John 3:30, “He must become greater, I must become less.” Teaching me humility and to surrender. It’s a hard thing to truly grasp and to practice on a day to day basis. It’s one thing to know something, but to make it ring true in my life time and time again, in every situation, is quite another. Pride and arrogance can slip in, almost unnoticed, blinding me to what I want to be and what is really going on.
I pray almost daily for the Lord to make me sensitive to His Spirit and His leading—for I am easily led astray.
I want to be a reflection of God and to shine for Him. To give Him all the glory and honor, but I also struggle with wanting to be important and wanting the praise of men.
Paul so accurately describes this struggle in Romans 7:15-25
I wish I could say I have found this magical formula that makes all my doubts disappear; that makes everything make sense, but I don’t.
The only thing I know to do is to keep on keeping on.
To continue to read my Bible every day.
To continue to pray and be open to God’s leading.
To continue to give myself up daily, asking God’s forgiveness for the times I’ve failed.
There are days though, when I don’t want to do even that. I want to just give up—completely and utterly, give up. I don’t want to fight anymore. I want to sink into this big, black hole of misery, cry buckets and buckets of tears and just wither away into oblivion. I let the truth-tinted-disgusting lies saturate my thoughts into their melancholy trap of defeat and worthlessness, abandoning all hope.
I think, this too, is part of the journey. Knowing that you’re going to have those days, sometimes seasons that are dark and you can’t seem to make sense of which way is up or down. Knowing, there is a light at the end of the tunnel, but not being able to fathom a glimmer of what it might look like.
Sometimes, when I’m going through such a hard time and just feel stuck, it helps to look at the ones who have gone before. Reading about the struggles that earlier Christians had to endure; how their faith was strengthened as they persevered through mind blowing circumstances, brings me hope. I am not alone and others have been through far worse than I could possibly imagine.
Need some encouragement through your battle or a list of where to start? Check out these wonderful books.
God at the Controls: A Night Escape and a Miracle Release from Colombian Guerrillas— Jean Dye Johnson
"...the guard came back and shone his light on him. Fear gripped him again.
The guard turned and walked away.
In that second, Paul sensed a gentle prodding from God..."Paul, as soon as you get your feet out of this mosquito net... I'll do my part...."
Carefully and oh, so quietly he walked away from his shelter toward the forbidden path.... A branch broke under his weight and made a loud Crack!
"Oh nooo!" Paul froze.
Bruchko – Bruce Olson
What happens when a nineteen-year-old boy leaves home and heads into the jungles to evangelize a murderous tribe of South American Indians? For Bruce Olson, it meant capture, disease, terror, loneliness, and torture. But what he discovered by trial and error has revolutionized the world of missions.
The Hiding Place – Corrie ten Boom
“I pray that God forgive them...”
Corrie Ten Boom stood naked with her older sister Betsie, watching a concentration camp matron beating a prisoner. “Oh, the poor woman,” Corrie cried. “Yes. May God forgive her,” Betsie replied. And, once again, Corrie realized that it was for the souls of the brutal Nazi guards that her sister prayed.
Both woman had been sent to the camp for helping the Jews. Christ’s Spirit and words were their guide; it was His persecuted people they tried to save—at the risk of their own lives; it was His strength that sustained them through times of profound horror.
Here is a book aglow with the glory of God and the courage of a quiet Christian spinster whose life was transformed by it. A story of Christ’s message and the courageous woman who listened and lived to pass it along—with joy and triumph!
50 People Every Christian Should Know – Warren W. Wiersbe
Does the pressure of the world feel overwhelming? Remembering the great men and women of the past---including Charles Spurgeon, Dwight Moody, Amy Carmichael, and Fanny Crosby---will inspire you to renewed strength and purpose.
End of the Spear – Steve Saint
Steve Saint was five years old when his father, missionary pilot Nate Saint, was speared to death by a primitive Ecuadorian tribe. In adulthood, Steve, having left Ecuador for a successful business career in the United States, never imagined making the jungle his home again. But when that same tribe asks him to help them, Steve, his wife, and their teenage children move back to the jungle. There, Steve learns long-buried secrets about his father's murder, confronts difficult choices, and finds himself caught between two worlds.
Through Gates of Splendor – Elisabeth Elliot
The true story of five young missionaries who were savagely killed while trying to establish communication with the Auca Indians of Ecuador. The story is told through the eyes of Elisabeth Elliot, the wife of one of the young men who was killed.
A Chance to Die: The Life and Legacy of Amy Charmichael – Elisabeth Elliot
A vibrant portrayal of Amy Carmichael, an Irish missionary and writer who spent fifty-three years in south India without furlough. There she became known as "Amma," or "mother," as she founded the Dohnavur Fellowship, a refuge for underprivileged children. Amy's life of obedience and courage stands as a model for all who claim the name of Christ. She was a woman with desires and dreams, faults and fears, who gave her life unconditionally to serve her Master.
Standing up, I stare up at the screen flowing with beautiful scenery and words streaming across in big, bold, black letters. Looking around I see scattered people all standing, a few with their hands up, most singing along, some just staring at the screen along with everyone else. I hear my husband’s deep voice next to me and my own voice following along to the rhythm of the song. I stare at the words again, wondering how many of them we really mean or if we are all just caught up in the moment and the emotion out of habit like we do every Sunday?
Lost in a large crowd of people. Not recognizing a single person around me. Everyone staring at the huge screens looming above us or at the band jamming out up on stage, seeing how close we can get. The same thoughts come over me. Why are we really here? Is it just for a fun show? Is it for bragging rights, saying we saw this famous artist perform live? Is it just because it was free and something fun to do during the summer? Are we idolizing and worshiping these “famous” people more than we are the God they are singing about?
Back up in the crowd again after an almost-storm-encounter. Listening to the band that I was most excited about seeing for the entire weekend. I look around again at the people surrounding me. I see tears in the eyes of many as they struggle with their own inner hurts and wars. I see hands raised throughout the whole crowd as people are swept away with the song.
I smile as a memory of a conversation I had with my dad, so long ago, runs through my mind, about why some songs are so popular and how the cords put together in such a way seem to draw you in. What makes music so captivating? Why are some songs so good and others bad?
Music has the ability to send life and excitement flooding through our veins in such a way that we feel like we could dance forever. It has the ability to bring us to tears both from overwhelming grief and indescribable happiness. Music can strike a chord within the core of our being so we feel like we may explode inside with all the vivacious passion that is surging through.
One thing that I love about Casting Crowns is how they don’t just put on a dazzling “look at me” show, but they use their platform to turn your eyes towards heaven and towards Christ. It is so easy to turn our eyes inward and want all the glory for ourselves, but it takes humility to say it’s not about me, it’s all about Christ, and even more so to act it out. Though I wish Casting Crowns concert could have gone longer, instead of being cut short by the storm, I thought it was really neat how they ended by disappearing into the background letting the crowd continue to worship and sing their song, as if to say “You don’t need us, we’re just a vessel to help point you to Christ and now that we’ve done that, it’s your turn to keep the flame going and to carry on.”
Music, singing and worshiping God are woven strongly throughout the whole Bible. I think about the time after the wall was rebuilt around Jerusalem in Nehemiah 12:27-43. Ezra and Nehemiah, for the dedication “service,” had two big choirs walk in opposite directions singing joyfully and playing music. “And on that day they offered great sacrifices, rejoicing because God had given them great joy. The women and children also rejoiced. The sound of rejoicing in Jerusalem could be heard far away.” Nehemiah 12:43 What it must have been like to be among the crowds that day! To feel your heart fluttering with joy at the sound of people worshiping and praising God for what He had done. To be swept away in the moment, remembering who God was and basking in the security that everything was going to be alright, as the music kept getting louder and louder as more and more people joined in.
Music can be such a dividing and conflicting area among people ( especially churches). And if you think about it, in the sense of music being a way to express emotions in a very vivid personal way, then of course there is going to be disagreements over it because we are each so unique and express ourselves in so many different ways. But music isn’t just about ourselves and expressing our own emotions. It’s an overflow of the heart and a call to worship the creator of the universe in a way that can also bring so many people together. It has the ability to wrap up hearts and turn a whole crowd of strangers into one gigantic family all moving the same way, preparing the heart to worship and acknowledge God—who is worthy of our praise.
So this week, like the psalmist says in Psalm 98:4-9, “Shout for joy to the LORD, all the earth, burst into jubilant song with music; make music to the LORD with the harp, with the harp and the sound of singing, with trumpets and the blast of the ram’s horn—shout for joy before the LORD, the King. Let the sea resound, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it. Let the rivers clap their hands, let the mountains sing together for joy; let them sing before the LORD, for he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness and the people with equity.”
May we, with a true heart, sing praises to our LORD and King. Praising Him for who He is and what He has done and will do!
“I’m fine!” I proclaimed, tears streaming down my face.
My husband busted out laughing and even with new emissions of tears, I couldn’t help but join in, realizing how insane I must look.
“I’m just tired and hot and grumpy,” I complained, “I wish you would have put the air-conditioners in yesterday, like I asked. It’s going to be super-hot today and you have to work all day and I have to watch the kids,” I continued to whine. “I don’t want to be grumpy and yelling at the kids all day and really I’m fine and you better get to work, but I just want to scream and take a whole bottle of Nyquil and sleep for 10 hours!”
“You know,” my husband teasingly laughed, while wrapping me in a big hug, “the number one substance abuse is over dosing or wrongly using over the counter drugs.”
“I don’t care!” I teased back, punching his arm “I’m just tired! —I know I’ll survive,” I sighed.
We continued to banter back and forth for a bit longer as I tried to get my emotions back under control and he tried to do everything he could to make sure I was going to be all right, before he had to go to work in three minutes.
He left and I hurried to get the kids ready and packed up in the car, knowing I needed to get out of the house for awhile. Through a few more wrestling matches with my two-year-old and my nine-month old, I finally secured everyone in the car and took off for the store. Two blocks from our house, as I started going back over everything that had just happened, I realized how awful my attitude was. I snapped the music off and pronounced to my two-year-old daughter, “we should pray and tell God everything we’re thankful for.”
“No!” She defiantly stated from the back seat.
“Fine, I will then,” I said, not wanting to give in to a losing battle.
“Ok,” she agreed, as I started praying out loud.
“Jesus, thank you for giving us sunshine, which gives us vitamin D, which helps boost our moods. Thank you, for making everything green. For the green trees and green grass. Thank you that we have each other. Thank you that we have a car to drive in. Thank you that it has an air-conditioner that actually works. Thank you that we have food to eat and a roof over our head and so many clothes to wear. Thank you that we can go to the store today.” Stopping, I asked my daughter, “what are you thankful for?”
“Daddy work for food.” She responded, after a bit of a pause.
“Ah yes, thank you Jesus that Daddy has a job. Thank you that he can provide food for us and a roof over our heads.”
“What else are you thankful for?”
I smiled, “Yes, thank you for giving us colors. For blue…” We went on to name off all the colors and continued to name off things we were thankful for.
My poor husband can put up with so much some days. Sometimes I wonder why he married me with all my emotional mood swings and destructive, negative attitudes.
If you have read any of my blogs so far, you will notice that one of the things I go back to time and time again is thankfulness. Why is thankfulness such a big deal?
Well first off, it is found in God’s Word over and over again, telling us to give thanks.
As I have said before, for me, it really does help swing my downcast, awful, whiny, selfish, entitled attitude away from myself and onto Christ. Putting my focus not on the things that I want, but on the things I’ve already been so blessed with. Thankfulness helps me remember who it is that is actually in control, when I feel like everything’s spinning crazily out of control.
When we thank God for what He has given us, we acknowledge that He was the one who gave it to us in the first place. We acknowledge that He is in control.
Though, I could go on and on about all the reasons we should give thanks and the benefits, I think it would be more important to conclude with a few challenges, should you choose to accept them.
1st Challenge: Think of 10 things you are thankful for every single morning before jumping out of bed. (Slithering your way off the bed to your feet won’t work to avoid the challenge either). If it doesn't work before you are able to get out of bed then try it when you are brushing your teeth.
2nd Challenge: Before ever stepping out of the car to go shopping, make sure you say out loud with your kids or to yourself, 5 things you are thankful for that God has already blessed you with.
3rd Challenge: When you hear yourself start to complain or grumble about something, immediately stop what you’re doing and come up with three things that you are thankful for right then and there. You could also tape up little "thank 3" notes in thought out places around the house and every time one catches your eye, stop what you're doing and think about three things you're thankful for.
If you’re a sticky-note type of “rememberer,” try taping a sticky-note that says “Thank 10” either on your ceiling or somewhere where you will see it when you first wake up. Then tape a “Thank 5” note to the middle of your steering wheel, and random other ones around your house if need be.
If you’re more of a phone person, you can try setting an alarm or a note that pops up first thing in the morning to help remind you.
With a world filled with selfish, entitled people crying out their own agendas we need thankful hearts rising up in this fight against ourselves. It’s not something that comes naturally in an instant but a learned practice that takes perseverance and determination.
So together this week, won’t you join with me, one day, one fight at a time? Remembering, it’s not just about ourselves but we are to “give thanks in all circumstances; for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thess. 5:18)
BANG! BANG! BANG!
“MOMMY I UP!”
BANG! BANG! BANG!
"MOMMY I WANT OUT!”
My head exploded with noise as I fell out of bed. Glancing up at the clock, I fumbled to make my way out of the room. A blurry red 5:50 a.m. beamed back at me, haunting my muddled brain. You’ve got to be kidding me child! I hurriedly opened my daughter’s door hushing her, hoping she hadn’t already awoken her brother, who I had barely coaxed back to sleep 50 min before.
“Mommy I up!” My daughter exclaimed again, fearing I would put her back to bed.
“I know, but you don’t bang on your door,” I sternly whispered, ushering her to the living room where we could talk.
I instinctively reached for a banana on our way. My mind raced through everything I needed to do before church, all while trying desperately to wake up after a short six two-hour-increment, interrupted sleep. Getting my daughter set up with “Super Why” and her banana, I grabbed my Bible and journal and headed for the other room. I scarcely sat down and opened my Bible when I heard brother set up a wail from his room, exclaiming that I’d forgotten him. I let my tired head fall to the table, wishing I could go back to bed and sleep. Grudging myself up, willing my feet to move, I made my way towards the cries. Walking into his room I saw his little seven-month-old face break into relief as I reached to pick him up. Carrying him to his changing table I “quickly” fought to change his diaper, then kissed his adorable little face. Gathering him in my arms, I headed back out to the dining room.
Sitting him down on the floor, I tried to do my quite times. I had just finished reading when my son set up another wail from banging his head against a chair, getting stuck underneath. I stood up to move him to a different spot, but he immediately started crying again. Carrying him back to my chair I sat down to feed him. He curiously, kicked my journal and Bible onto the floor as I let out a moan. After he finished, I released him back to the floor while picking up my Bible and journal. I opened my prayer journal wondering how I was ever going to get through the day. Half way through journaling, my daughter walked in, without her diaper, announcing, “mommy I peed.” I merely stared at her for a minute-feeling-you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me-second before pointing her off to the bathroom telling her I’d take care of it and would come get her in a little bit. I stared back down at my prayer wondering what was even the point today. Picking up my pen, I decided to finish, before going to take care of the mess that was awaiting me.
Setting aside my Bible and journal I went and grabbed our spot cleaning carpet cleaner and headed back to the living room for my daughter to show me where she peed.
After putting away the cleaning supplies, I looked at the clock realizing it was already 7:30 and I hadn’t even started breakfast yet. Well I guess pancakes are out for this morning, I thought, as I stared at the kitchen, counters covered with forgotten dishes from the night before. Maybe I’ll just make shakes, toast and eggs. I opened the freezer to pull out our strawberries and chia seeds when my daughter bursted into kitchen crying out “I wanna help!”
“Just wait a second while I get everything set up and then you can help,” I responded, while putting the items on the counter.
“Ok!” My daughter happily replied while running to grab her stool from beside the washer. I went back to the freezer grabbing more things when I heard my daughter try and scoot the stool out on her own.
“Mommy I need help!”
“I said to wait a second!” I groaned, putting the items I had just grabbed down and helping my daughter with the stool, which was about ready to topple her.
Breakfast finally made, I told my daughter to go get her daddy up so we could eat. Putting the shakes on the table and going back to grab the toast, I realized I totally forgot about my eggs. I looked over at the stove to find hard pale eggs staring deadly back at me. I grumbled under my breath, wanting to let out a cry, but put the eggs on the table anyways. Grabbing my son off the floor, I buckled him into his chair. I looked over to see my daughter already sitting in her spot.
“I hungry mommy.” My daughter whined while trying to reach for the closest thing on the table.
“No, be patient! We have to wait for daddy and then we can eat.” I said, while irritably looking down the hallway for my husband.
After waiting a few more minutes, I walked down the hall to find my husband still sleeping. Short-tempered, I again told him that breakfast was ready, if he would like to join us. Marching back down the hall, I started getting the kid’s breakfast on their plates.
A couple minutes later, my tired husband staggered into the room and sat down. We prayed and started eating. By the end of breakfast, both my husband and I were grumpy and getting on each other’s tired nerves. I agreed to let him hop in the shower first to wake up, while I cleaned up breakfast and picked out the kids’ clothes.
With my husband out of the shower, I hopped in and both kids ended up charging in with me. Tripping my way over two extra obstacles, we finally get everyone clean and I banged on the wall signalling for daddy to come get the kids.
It didn’t take long for my son to set up a holler, bawling his eyes out, refusing to do anything for daddy as he gently tried to dress him, announcing he wanted mom and it was time for a nap.
I glared at the clock as it told me I only had 30 minutes before we had to be leaving and I still had to figure out what to wear, get ready, and now determine what to do with my tired son. I hurried to throw on some clothes and went to rescue my husband from my extremely distressed baby.
I decided to go ahead and dress my son for church before sitting down to feed him. After about five minutes of wrestling with him to get clothes on, I finally had my unhappy baby dressed and ready to eat. I sat down and tried to put him to sleep which almost worked, until my daughter burst into the room, exclaiming in her whiny voice, that “daddy said be quite!” I glared at her, snapping my fingers and sternly pointed for her to leave. It was too late though, as her brother had already popped his head up wide awake, wanting to see sissy. I groaned and set him, somewhat happier, on the floor. Ten minutes before we needed to be out the door, I hurried to go finish getting ready.
Halfway through putting on some sort of makeup, I heard my husband tell our daughter to “go to mommy, she does your hair better.” Wanting to explode inside, I decided that my makeup would just have to wait. I picked up my daughter and “quickly” brushed her hair into a ponytail. Finally conquering a lopsided victory, I called out to my husband that he could go ahead and get the kids in the car, I would be there in a minute. Looking in the mirror I realized that my outfit made me look like a bloated hippo and scanned my closet for something different. Three to four outfits later, my husband came in annoyed, saying he had the kids in the car, like I asked. Then, noticing I was throwing clothes everywhere commented that he thought I looked fine in what I had been wearing.
“Ok, ok. Thank you," I said, ignoring the mess that just blew up in our bedroom, "I’ll be there in just a second. Did you grab the diaper bag and bibles?” I threw back on the outfit I had started with, then ran to the car flicking off lights on my way out the door. “Ugh! We’re going to be late,” I complained, as I slammed the door.
"It's ok," my husband tried to reassure, "we'll still make it."
So what’s the point?
We’ve all been there. Sunday can seem like the hardest day to actually get up and go. Chaos and frustration always seem to pile up a mile high, more than any other day. So why, when everything seems to go wrong on Sunday, would we still try and go to church every week?
You may have a different list, but this is mine:
Occasionally, my introverted side likes to argue with this one. For the most part though, I love going to church for the people and friends. Catching up and sharing life with others can be such a wonderful thing. There’s nothing like being around a group of people who love Jesus and want to work together to share His love and truth.
I enjoy learning about God and His Word. A lot of times, something the pastor says, reaffirms what I have been reading in my own quite times, driving the point home a little harder. The sermon my make me think about a new area of my life that I need to work on, or will remind me of something that I haven’t thought about in a while. Some Sundays, it’s a song that hits on the exact struggles I’m going through that week and helps pull my eyes to Christ.
Freedom from Kids
I will be honest, some weeks, the reason I drag myself to church in the morning is just to stick my kids in nursery and have a break for an hour. As much as I love my kids to death, it’s amazing how fast their little winey, crying voices can wear me down. As a stay at home mom, that short, sometimes long, hour at church can be so refreshing just to be around and observe other adults without having my kids mauling me every second.
It’s a thrill helping out in the church. Yes, it can be tiring and overwhelming at times (ok, many times). Yes, some days, I would rather sit in the service rather than help out in children’s church. Yes, sometimes, I don’t want to be responsible for anything. In the end, though, I never feel as connected to a church than when I’m helping it function the way it should. It’s kind of like when you let your kids make their own lunch and they end up enjoying it and actually eating it. The more you serve in a church the more sense of belonging and “ownership” you have in the church. You get more excited about what’s going on and end up learning more than when you are just on the sidelines watching.
I have to be honest, I have been hurt and burned by “the church” before. It’s not a fun experience and can really keep you from wanting to go back. Let’s face it, though, the people who make up the church are human, selfish, rotten sinners, all in need of a savior. The beauty of a healthy church, that’s trying to live and breathe the love of Christ, is even amongst the hurts and frustrations, there is also a steady flow of encouragement. Being able to pray and talk with other people who have made some of the same mistakes you have and yet have lived to tell how God’s grace and power have overcome their weaknesses is amazing! Being surrounded by people who accept you for who you are and are willing to love you despite your obvious faults is a breath of fresh air. Although, that’s what the church is supposed to be, actually finding one like that can be a challenge. More often than not, one finds stiff-necked, arrogant, judgmental people who will stick their nose up at you for not acting or doing the things that they do. Those are some of the times when you go, not to be encouraged, but to be an encouragement to others.
Like what you read? Want others to be encouraged too? Please share.
“Watch out here it comes. Jump!” We all grab the rope and swing across the ravine that is quickly filling with lava, barely making it to the other side.
“Help! I’m falling!” I cry, as I lose my balance and start swinging away from our secure landing spot. The rope is caught and I get pulled back to safety.
“There’s a T-Rex coming!” Our scout exclaims, looking out from our look out spot.
“Oh no! Did it see us?”
“We have to get these doors closed!”
“Oomph! They won’t budge”
“We’re going to have to make a run for it!”
“To the tires!” All three of us jump down from the hay bales and run across the barn hiding behind a stack of tires.
We silently wait while the T-Rex tries to sniff us out and finally, not finding us, makes its way downstairs.
“Do you think it’s safe?”
“I don’t know. Let’s wait a little longer.”
“I hear it down below. I think, if we’re carefully, we can sneak out around it.”
We slowly start maneuvering our way across the floor and down the stairs. We just get to the bottom, when out of nowhere the T-Rex sticks its head out of a stall and we all scream.
“RUN!” We race as fast as we can out of the barn.
“This way!” Our leader exclaims, pointing the way to our hideout.
“Do you think we lost him?” We all look around determining where the beast could be.
“I think that’s him over there. Run!”
“No. We lost him. Let’s walk for a bit.” Our leader says, as we all try and catch our breath making our way to the log pile.
Once we arrive, the guys go and pick out the best looking guns they can find. I stay back and try and prepare our “home nest” for the night. As I rearrange sticks and bark, I hear our leader call out, “We’re going hunting. We’ll be back before nightfall, but don’t let anything in!”
After a while, the boys get back. Of course, our fearless leader, has a couple of rabbits with him, along with a deer, some pheasants and a few fish. We quickly put together a stew and sit down to eat. Once the food is devoured we lay down for the night.
A couple minutes later, our leader bolts upright. Looking out a window he exclaims, “There’s something coming!”
“What is it?”
“It’s a Pteranodon!” Our leader say’s pointing his gun through a hole in the sticks.
“There’s another one over there!” My brother shouts, pointing out another hole.
“Oh no! What are we going to do?”
“We’re going to have to move camps.” Our leader replies, still peering out through the logs.
“Over there,” he directs. “In that groove of trees right there. When I say go, you guys make a run for it and I’ll hold them off until you get there.”
We carefully make our way out of the hideout; crawling over one log and sliding under another until we’re almost in the clear and ready to run.
“Ready?! Go, go, go!” He yells.
We hear him start firing off shots, as we race as fast as our legs will carry us to the trees looming ahead. Making it safely, we turn around to see how our leader is doing. Stillness and silence emanates from the scene before us.
“We’d he go?”
“Did it get him?
Panic starts to set in as we scan the area looking for where he might have went.
“I’ll go look for him.” My brother volunteers as he sets out through the trees to get a better view.
I continue to scan the area, wondering if I should try and go too. About when I decide to take off as well, I hear a snap of a twig behind me. Spinning around I see our leader come back holding his arm, which must have been injured in the battle.
“Where’d your bother go?”
“He went looking for you.” I point in the opposite direction.
“Well come on, let’s go find him.” We head off together into the trees, soon to catch up with him and continue our adventure.
I always have to smile, every time I see a kid holding a stick up to the sky, shooting down imaginary beasts, who must be threatening their life, because it reminds me so much of my own childhood. All the time I spent with my younger brother and our “fearless leader in arms,” fighting off dinosaurs, escaping over raging streams of lava, exploring, building, swinging, racing… countless hours of fun just playing together with our imaginations.
Now, as I watch my daughter start to dive into her own world of imagining, I can’t help but take a step back and remember all the fun times I had growing up. I occasionally find myself wishing my daughter would just grow up, so I don’t have to explain a hundred “why?” or “what’s that?” questions, clean up all her messes, or walk as slowly to the park. I’m reminded, though, it’s my responsibility and privilege to teach and train up my children in the way that they should go. I need to let them be kids; make messes, explore the outdoors, occasionally challenge the laws of physics, have fun studying the world around them, because that is the best way for them to learn. Remembering, they’re only young once. I need to let them play, while keeping a safe eye and reasonable, but firm, guidelines in place, taking the opportunities to teach them about Christ and His ways. For really, how short life is! James 4:14 says, “Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” How easy it is to get so caught up in all the blaring problems and responsibilities of being an adult! We forget what it was like to be a kid. We forget to enjoy and make the most of each day we’ve been given.
Job 14:1-2, 5 says, “Man born of woman is of few days and full of trouble. He springs up like a flower and withers away; like a fleeting shadow, he does not endure. Man’s days are determined; you have decreed the number of his months and have set limits he cannot exceed.” We only have a set number of days on this earth and we don’t know what that number is. It really makes me stop and think about how I’m spending the time that I have been given. I think about how I fill up each day and how I can get so frustrated when I don’t make it someplace “on time.” That extra red light, can throw my whole day into chaos and frustration. Accidental or purposefully spilled milk can swiftly send boiling lava coursing through my veins.
When I take a step back, I can’t help but ask, “why?” Why do I let the little things have such a big effect on me? Why, when one little thing goes wrong, do I jump into a series of panicked reactions instead of controlled responses? Why am I not able to enjoy life and replace worry with joy?
I’m not focusing on the right things. (Matthew 6:19-21)
I can get so focused and consumed with the immediate that I forget to take a step back and look at the big picture. It says in 2 Corinthians 4:18 “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” There’s a song playing on the radio lately by Jonny Diaz called Breathe and my husband always jokes that it was written especially for me. So now, whenever I start getting frazzled and “freaking out” my husband will start singing, “Breathe, just breathe...” Surprisingly, it actually works sometimes. At least, it helps jolt start my mind, into the fact that I’m not thinking straight.
I’m letting worry consume me. (Matthew 6:25-34)
Worry can sneak in and take over my thinking before I even realize it is there. Matthew 6:25-27, 34 says, “Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” My biggest counter attack to worry is a thankful heart and a trusting spirit. It’s hard to worry about something when you’re thanking God for what He has already provided and realizing that the future is in His hands as well.
I’m going too fast (Psalm 46:10-11)
As a culture especially, we are so driven by time. We fill our days full from the moment we wake up to the moment we fall asleep. If it’s not with different activities, work or meetings then its tv, facebook, games or some other form of things we "have to do". I’m not saying that any one of those things in and of themselves are bad, but combined, when we get so busy that we push God out of the picture and push quiet time with him aside then it is.
In my Bible study this past week one of the things I put down that I wanted to work on was being still. There are so many verses in the bible about being still and knowing God. (Zechariah 2:13, Psalm 46:10-11, Exodus 14:14, Habakkuk 2:20 just to name a few). I know, as a mother with two young ones, being still can be an extremely hard thing to do. There’s a quote that says, “Nothing that’s worthwhile is ever easy.” The same applies to being still, being quite, and reading God’s Word. It’s not an easy thing to do that just comes naturally. If we continually wait for a time to magically come up, it never will happen. We have to make and guard that time as if our life depends on it. It takes determination and perseverance, not to give up when it doesn’t work how we want it to. Mornings are the best time for me. I try and wake up at least 30 minutes before my kids. Though, some days that doesn’t always happen and I have to find something to distract them with, long enough so I can get a little bit of “Jesus and mommy time.”
I wake up, hands sweaty, heart racing and my head pounding. Guilt jabs me in the stomach, making me want to throw up. I want to escape, to undo what has happened, but I can’t. I can never go back. I can never change what has been done. I feel powerless over the future. My mind replays the scene over and over again for the thousandth time. The emotional pain seems unbearable. I fiercely grip my pillow between my fingers sobbing into its cushioned fluff hoping to drown it out and not wake up my husband.
I plead with God to take it away, to give me wisdom and discernment with what to do now. I scream out in anguish asking Him how long He will let it go on. “Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord.” Psalm 27:14 replays over and over in my mind. But I am weary Father and I don’t have the strength I complain but before I even finish Matthew 11:28-30 pops into my mind “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Oh Lord, I pray over Psalm 27 again, Hear my voice when I call O Lord; be merciful to me and answer me. My heart says of you, seek his face! Your face, Lord, I will seek. Do not hide your face from me, do not turn your servant away in anger; you have been my helper. Do not reject me or forsake me, O God my Savior. Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me. Teach me your way, O Lord; lead me in a straight path because of my oppressors.
Sleep slowing starts to seep in, when my mind deviously starts wondering back replaying, yet again, scene by scene everything that happened. I jolt awake, telling myself to stop going over it and to just let God have it. I start listing off things that I’m thankful for and finally, sleep comes again.
We all have things in our lives that we can feel guilty about. Traumatic experiences that have left such a scar on our lives that they will never be completely forgotten.
Sometimes, I wonder, if that’s how David felt waiting for his son to die. That empty ache in his stomach that feels like an endless black hole wishing he could undo what he had done, pleading with God to take it away, to save his son’s life, knowing that he was the cause but being powerless to do anything about it. David wrote in Psalm 38:4, 10 “My guilt has overwhelmed me like a burden too heavy to bear.” “My heart pounds, my strength fails me; even the light has gone from my eyes.” David knew what it felt like to have guilt that threatens to destroy you. But here’s the key:
He never stayed there!
Satan wants to keep us defeated to remind us over and over again of all the things we’ve done wrong. To keep us replaying circumstances that have emotionally devastated us. But in Christ we have freedom. David wrote in Psalm 40:1-3 “I waited patiently for the Lord; he turned to me and heard my cry. He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand. He put a new song in my mouth, a hymn of praise to our God. Many will see and fear and put their trust in the Lord.”
This is my “A” list that I have put together for things that help me when I'm dealing with a traumatic experience or struggling with feelings of "deceitful guilt" in order to gain freedom:
Acknowledge the Truth
I don’t know about you, but for me, when I’m in the midst of a hard situation where my emotions are all mixed up, it’s really difficult to be able to distinguish what’s really true and what’s a lie concealing itself as the truth. This one can take some sorting out, to really get down to what the real issue is and the truth behind it. Sometimes, it helps to talk to someone who isn’t emotionally involved, as it can be a lot clearer for them to see. Also, staying in, and searching the Word of God, is a must!
This takes humility! Getting help and letting someone into a vulnerable situation in my life, willingly admitting that I don’t have it all together, can be scary and a hard thing to do. Though, having someone to honestly talk to and wrestle through things with and even keep accountable to is a huge blessing!
The dictionary’s definition of forgiveness is "the intentional and voluntary process by which a victim undergoes a change in feelings and attitude regarding an offense, lets go of negative emotions such as vengefulness, with an increased ability to wish the offender well." 1 John 2:9-10 “Anyone who claims to be in the light but hates his brother is still in darkness. Whoever loves his brother lives in the light and there is nothing in him to make him stumble.” It’s really easy when we’ve been hurt or feel like we’ve been unjustly treated to hold on to anger and bitterness and sometimes vengeance, wanting to make the other person pay. All this really does is bind and cripple ourselves into unhappiness. “Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” Ephesians 4:31-32. There is freedom in forgiving others. It doesn't always come all at once, sometimes it's a process, where we continually have to keep forgiving.
Refuse to Dwell on it. You can’t stop thoughts from popping up in your mind, but you can refuse to let them stay by forcing yourself to think about something else. I have a tendency to try and punish myself as a false sense of control, to keep blaming myself for every little thing, whether or not it really is my fault. I continually have to remind myself that I am not responsible for the action of others, but I am responsible for not letting myself become bitter over it. Philippians 4:8 is a great verse to remember during these times “Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.”
Action plan of escape
When you go through a traumatic event or experience, there end up being things that will happen in your day-to-day life that trigger a similar response to what happened the first time. It helps knowing what those triggers are. Then, having a plan in place to know what to do or think about when a trigger does happen. For me, it helps to mentally start listing off things that I am thankful for. It doesn’t even have to be about the situation at all. Just giving thanks for anything and everything I can think of right then, helps swing my mind away from feeling sorry for myself and letting fear and anger cripple me into its downward spiral, back to the truth. Also, memorizing scripture that I can recite easily when thoughts do come into my mind is a great way to remember the truth.
I want to leave with a prayer Paul prayed in Ephesians 4:16-21, as it is always an encouragement to me and I pray it may ring true in your life as well, “I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.”
My eyes cloud over as tears threaten to break fourth from the massive dam right below the surface. My jaw tightens at the sudden feeling of being a failure and that of all things, I’m losing it over my water jug being spilled all over the carpet. I blink back hard and try and take a deep breath, reminding myself that it’s just water, a simple towel thrown over and stepped on is all that is needed. Though my head is pounding trying to see reason, the screaming voices keep flying out of control right beneath the surface. “This is the 5th time I’ve told you—don’t touch my water!” “Why can’t you just listen to me?” “Am I not being hard enough on correcting?” “What am I doing wrong?” “Will you ever just behave?” Why do you have to test the limits of every single thing?” “I don’t have the energy for this!” My anger starts rising and frustration takes over reasoning as I snatch the water from my almost two year old daughter, slam it back on the counter, hearing myself yell “Stop! Stop! NOO!” while swinging her around to sit back down on the couch. Looking back at her ready to unleash all my frustration, one look in her eyes and I realize I’ve done it again, I’m out of control. Regret and failure immediately wash over me. I reach for her hand, saying “I’m sorry! Here, let’s clean this up,” while throwing a clean towel, from the pile of laundry I had just finished folding. Gently I pull her over to step on the towel to get all the water out of the carpet. The incident is immediately forgotten by my sweet baby girl as she goes back to playing, but my mind is still raging with questions and the feeling of failure as I continue to fold clothes. Looking over I see my new baby boy quietly stretching on the floor, completely oblivious to the chaos happing right next to him. “Oh Lord,” I pray “How am I supposed to be a good mom? I feel like I am going to completely mess them up. I can’t do this!”
Being a mom is hard! No matter how many books we read, or lists of do’s and don’ts we read off Pinterest, or how hard we try to get a good night’s rest to help control our attitude and our words. There will be days (sometimes lots of days) that we don’t get enough sleep, if any, and are running on empty. It’s those times that we need to hand it over to Jesus even more. When we mess up, when we fail—which we all do--not to be too proud to go to our kids and say we’re sorry and ask their forgiveness.
That being said, here are a few tips that have helped me in my two short years of being a mom. When I find my temper is flaring, my patience is running out and all I seem to be doing is saying “no, no, no, don’t, don’t, don’t, STOP!” Here is what sometimes works for us:
Get out of the house!
Sometimes, fresh air is all that is needed, to cool off the jets for a bit and let the steam out. Not to mention the exercise for your kiddos lets them exert some of their never ending energy. Even just a short walk around the house or around the block does a great deal to improve everyone’s moods.
Invite another mom or friend over, or see if you can go to their house.
Now, I know what you’re thinking, because I constantly have this battle in my own mind. But my house is a MESS and with even more kids it’s NEVER going to get cleaned or at least will take FOREVER! Getting all my kids rounded up and into the car just to go play for a little bit before a meltdown happens is just a waste of time. You know what I find is interesting though? Once you get pass all the excuses of why it won’t work to have anyone over and just invite them anyways, even between the 3-6+ kids and only two adults it seems to always work out just fine. I know for me, my spirits are always lifted just to be able to talk to someone else you truly gets it…even if it’s just about the weather and exchanging “my kids are worse than your kid” horror stories.
Get your kids involved.
Many times, I find when I’m getting frustrated, it’s because I’m trying to get something done and my kids keep interrupting and getting in the way. I will always remember what one of my college professors taught me. Laundry, dishes, messy floors, ect. will always be there, but your kids won’t. It’s our job as parents to raise our kids up and to teach them. So, even though it may take twice as long, not get done how we might like, or how we would do it, sometimes it’s more important to teach our kids how, by doing it with them. Even if it’s just letting your two year old play in the sink water while you’re washing dishes. You will never get today back to do again, so enjoy the time with your kids while you can. Slow down, take a deep breath, or lots of deep breaths, and try and remember what it was like as a child. Let them be a part of your world and not just see them as a nuisance or a hindrance to what you want to do.
Darkness heaving down upon me, swirling around beneath me, pulling me deeper and deeper into its lifeless void, until it’s a struggle even to catch a breath. Purpose and joy is a distant shore lost within the mist. I want to scream, but my voice is plastered to the walls of my chest, slowly dying from suffocation. I look at my children before me and tears well within me like giant bottomless pits filled with aching regret. An overwhelming sense of failure fills every pore of my being and even though I can say it’s a lie, the weight of it keeps getting heavier and stronger with each passing moment. I just want to sleep and forget all the pain and the hopelessness locked inside, but even in sleep there is no relief.
Nothingness surrounds the future. I try to keep going like everything is ok, because I know my kids need me, but the passion is gone, the light is put out. It’s just motions with emptiness within. Anger and rage take the place of reason followed by despair, regret and then nothingness cycling over and over and over again. People try to help by telling me what I need to do, but they don’t understand, not really. This burden I bear, they can have all the right answers, but never do they truly touch the weight and pain of what lies within.
Fear, a lack of trust. Lies, blinding the truth. Chemical, scycological, see a counselor, take medication, it’s normal, it’s not normal, lots of people deal with it, get help, don’t deal with it yourself, you’re fine, don’t worry about it, go for a walk, get out of the house, put make-up on every day, take time for yourself, switch the tapes in your mind, don’t listen to all the negative talk in your head, just stop it. It isn’t helping. I just want someone who truly understands, not to tell me what to do, but to cry with me and to see, truly see where I am at, to wrap their arms around me and physically take me by the hand and lead me up. I don’t have the strength, and I’m tired of bringing everyone down around me.
I remember writing this, three months after my son was born, and how I was ready to completely give up. Doctors call it Postpartum Depression and though, I know many women who have had it way worse than me, it was still a very real and devastating time. I had some very traumatic issues go down with my family at that time as well as being off some medication too soon. So how did I get up and over being depressed? Honestly, it was slow healing process. So slow in fact, I didn’t even realize when it happened. Everyone is different, what helped me may or may not be the answer for what might help someone else.
I hated even the thought of this! I didn’t want something to be wrong with me. I felt weak and even more like a failure when people would suggest that I should see a doctor and get some meds for it. As if I couldn’t handle it myself, I wasn’t strong enough. Pride pride pride pride pride…. in reality I wasn’t strong enough and I did need help. True strength lies in realizing when we’re weak and need help and not being too prideful to do something about it. I ended up just going back on a small dose of my thyroid medicine which ended up being a tremendous help.
I wanted to be by myself and just wither away and die. I didn’t want to see people or deal with any of their issues. I was much more content in wallowing in my own misery and though, I didn’t want to be miserable, I couldn’t think about anything else. My husband was one of my biggest supports through this time. He never left me and even took over watching and taking care of the kids a lot of the time. I even remember, one time, the nurse at my doctor’s office calling the Crisis Care Center for me and getting my husband off work to take me in, when I was to the point where I couldn’t function. (Just to brag on my husband a little bit during that time: I was devastated that I needed to go someplace to get help, I thought I should be stronger. I was even scared that he would be mad at me for making him miss work and possible getting in trouble with his boss. He reassured me that because the nurse had called, it was considered a medical emergency and he wouldn’t get in trouble and even if he did, I was more important. It was him who didn’t make fun of me or treat me like I was a worthless mother, but gently and lovingly reassured me that everyone needs help, at some point. He continually reminded me that he thought I was a wonderful mother, I was hurting, but it wouldn’t be forever.) Surrounding myself with people who truly loved me and supported me during this time was HUGE!
Remember the Truth
Lies are so easy to believe and seem to find their way into my mind faster than my child after ice cream. So, reminding myself and having others remind me of the truth over and over and over again was crucial, even when I didn’t want to hear it at the time. Eventually, it began to sink in and take root. I ended up taping 3x5 cards with verses on them all around the house. I taped them in front of the sink where I would stand doing dishes, in the shower (recommend laminating or covering with packing tape first), and on almost all my mirrors.
Around this time in my life my husband was laid off of work for the winter. It ended up I needed to get a part-time job to help out. This ended up being a blessing in disguise, as it forced me out of the house and my mind onto something other than being depressed.
Finding an activity or a job to do when you’re feeling down, even when you don’t particularly feel like doing it, does help in the long run.
Hands down, I think this was the thing I needed most, but what I got the least. With a baby and a toddler both needing my constant attention and up all hours of the night, sleep was but a fantasy dream in the world’s best fairytale. The little sleep I was able to get was marred with turmoil and restlessness. It wasn’t until I finally let people start to help me, by taking my daughter for a time, so I could sleep when my baby slept, that my mind started to function normally again. I have my sister to thank, for pretty much demanding that I needed more sleep and I needed to do whatever was necessary to MAKE THAT HAPPEN!
Eat Healthy Mood Boosting Foods
There are many lists on what are the best mood boosting foods to eat that I’m not going to post them all here. However, some of my own favorites were: Frozen blueberries (I ate these as my sweet-treat-dessert after the kids went to bed), Nuts (especially walnuts and almonds) and dark leafy greens like Kale (I started making a lot of healthy shakes for breakfast to help out with this).
I have a friend who calls this her little “happy pill.” She recommended it to me saying it was what helped her through her PPD. Especially, with it being the winter months during the time, it really did start making a difference, as I wasn’t out in the sun as much and I’m sure was lacking that essential vitamin.
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Melody, a proud mother of three beautiful, adventurous children and the wife of one very loving and caring husband. Molded, daily, by the Maker of the Universe and longing to become more like Him.