that's why i pray

To my sweet baby boy,

Tonight you let me rock you to sleep and we shared a precious moment in time I won’t soon forget. It was a moment that you and I were gazing into each other’s eyes, your hair still damp from your bath and your lips tug-tugging at your pacifier. I swear I could see right into your soul. There were lots of squeaky wheels begging for oil tonight. Squeaky wheels that included toys strewn across your nursery (read the entire house). A hamper overflowing with stinky clothes. Crusted dishes occupying our sterile white counter pleading for a good soaking. 

Well tonight you trumped them all after your bath as you brought me your blankie, pointed and said “ahh-ci” (paci) and excitedly replied “yeah!” when I asked you if you wanted Mamma to rock you. No, indeed tonight the squeaky wheels didn’t get the oil, the quiet, snuggly, buttermilk smelling toddler in striped pajamas got it. You see little one, the messes can always wait. The messes mean we played hard with all of your toys. The messes also mean we have full tummies and lots of energy. The messes can always wait and to me are proof that as your Mom I’m a rockstar. 

Before you came along Mommy struggled with perfection and image. But because of you, Mommy has learned to lay those expectations down and focus on what truly matters, raising you. There will come a time (albeit way too soon) when you are going to grow up and the snuggly nights of rocking my sweet honey smelling little boy will be just that, memories. Yes, they will be grand memories and that’s why I will always take the time to make those memories. I know it will mean so much more to you to have a Mom who is really present and there during your life rather than a Mom who is scurrying around whisper yelling at you to stop making a mess. 

Messes are always welcome here, you are always welcome here.

Like the term bittersweet, sometimes life’s greatest, most anticipated arrivals come paired with unexpected and unwelcome pain. We all as humans have struggles as we have to deal with living in a fallen world; I treaded the deep murky waters of post partum depression desperately begging for God to throw me a lifeline. 

I suppose it’s no mother’s wish to say she spent her first months with her newborn in agony, but I would be lying if I said otherwise. I can remember feeling so impatient, angry, and just plain jipped that I was having to deal with such an ugly struggle. After all I didn’t even really know what I was so sad about, why when I looked into my newborns eyes I felt nothing but emptiness. Why I had such a hard time letting my guard down to let the feelings of love naturally penetrate my heart after losing our first baby to miscarriage and then walking alongside my brother and sister in law and holding their precious stillborn son Jude on top of my somersaulting 26 week pregnant belly wondering why this was all happening. Could this truly be God’s plan? I was literally rocked to my absolute core. 

I specifically remember putting away my maternity clothes, the clothes I felt the most beautiful in, downstairs in a closet while my stomach uncontrollably lurched wanting nothing more than to go back, and don those damn clothes just to be able to feel something, anything for any amount of time. I traveled down a deep, dark pit occupied with lurking street names that included, apathy, inability to connect, pain, extreme sadness, guilt, numbness, and insomnia. It seemed wherever I turned came a new unwanted path that was so far from what I was expecting. I wanted to run and many times I tried only to find an even worse place. I prayed I would "wake up" to realize it was only a bad dream. It seemed that once I entered that dark pit I was held captive against my own will.

“You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy” Psalm 31:11

 

“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” Psalm 40: 2-3

It’s said hind sight is 20/20, well maybe 20/30 but regardless it’s easier to make sense of things looking back. I did end up kicking postpartum depression back where it belonged, to the curb after a 3-4 month battle thanks to God, family, friends and progesterone injections . God never left my side (even though I was convinced otherwise)And maybe, just maybe because of the deep struggle I faced, I’ve learned to truly bask in the happiness I now feel because in the beginning of my journey learning to be a Mamma I certainly felt otherwise.

{A very welcome side note; by nothing less than divine intervention, I was led to this blog and found someone who shared my struggles with PPD and truly “got it”. Praise be to God she just had her second baby and has been spared from experiencing PPD again, in place of it she’s experiencing joy and loving the newborn stage. Thank-you for giving me hope for the future Kara}