This one is going to be short, and will most likely not have anything to do with motherhood at all. This is about my faith, which has undergone significant challenges. Here is what I have learned, and whether it is what others know to be the truth, or is something that is simply getting me by, I will cling to it in the times of hardship and ease.
I am learning that God has nothing to do with some things. I am learning that saying miracles happen sometimes gives a hope that can lead to a loss of faith. While I know miracles can happen, and that can and does God cure some of those who are sick and hurting, I think it is important not to pray for one. What happens if I pray for my miracle and it is never revealed? I can't hold onto that prayer because after the "let down" the reality of loosing my faith becomes all too real. So instead of clinging to the hope of divine healing, I will hold onto the fact that sometimes God doesn't get Himself involved in human trials. Afterall, in the book of Job God did not cause any injury to Job or his family, he simply instructed Evil to not take the life of Job. He did not give a miracle for the man, he did not heal his hurts, he simply gave an instruction to Evil.
A friend of mine once said that praying for a miracle is sometimes selfish. She went on to say that by praying for a miracle of healing we are praying a person stays with us on this earth, and we are praying that they are kept longer from their eternal kingdom. I agree with her. So instead of praying for a miracle, I will pray for the ease of hurting and anguish. I'll pray that when these times of trial end we all still have our faith. And I will pray that miracles do happen for those who deserve them.
Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight. (Proverbs 3:5-6)
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Should I Stay or Should I Go Now....
I can remember so clearly a moment when I looked at my beautiful red faced screaming newborn and I thought "Wow, I can really see how some moms just jump up and run away from this." The fleeting thought never came again, but in that moment I was terrified, lonely, exhausted, and lost. I don't think any class can prepare you for the amount of yourself that you give away when you have a baby. Everyone talks about labor as this enduring process that "you will get through" and "in the end you have the most precious gift" but for me it has been the aftermath that is the process I have had to work through.
I am the youngest of my family, and that youngest complex has stayed with me throughout my adult life. I think after I had my son, despite the fact I was well into my twenties, I still felt like I had to measure up and surpass any expectations of me. Looking back I realize I had what were probably normal longings for some sort of an out, and I wish I had spoken up sooner than I did. My husband was a miracle worker those first few weeks. He gave of himself more than any man should have had to. I cried every night the first week we were our new family unit at home. R would sleep, I would cry, and A would read me stories trying to get my mind off of how terrified I was. What a mess we were. And to be honest, it just got messier from there.
I hit my breaking point a couple of months ago. I was riding in the car and had such anxiety about being in a horrible wreck I could barely contain my fears enough so we could get to where we were going. Again, A put up with a lot from me, including me tapping his shoulder every 90 seconds telling him to slow down. I finally was able to admit my fears, my anxiety, and even my depression had gotten to a point that was unbearable for any of us.
I sought help from a trusted doctor. I was prescribed an SSRI that I will admit has been a life changer. I am a new wife, a new mom, and a new person. I recently wrote to someone how I regret not asking for help sooner, that looking back on the past year I see myself as simply surviving and not living. While I know not everyone needs medication, and I am a big proponent for talk therapy, I encourage anyone who doesn't see themselves as a life but only sees one step to another to talk to someone and seek help from different sources. I know I will never be the same after what I have experienced, but I hope that means I will be better, and maybe I can use my honesty about how I felt to encourage others.
Oh, and I am glad I didn't run that day. Of course, the cries of my boy eventually faded to smiles and giggles. And as we sat in church this morning and he pointed at all of the people around us saying "Who dat?" I thanked God for the clarity I have of how incredibly blessed my life is, and for the precious gift of my son and husband.
I am the youngest of my family, and that youngest complex has stayed with me throughout my adult life. I think after I had my son, despite the fact I was well into my twenties, I still felt like I had to measure up and surpass any expectations of me. Looking back I realize I had what were probably normal longings for some sort of an out, and I wish I had spoken up sooner than I did. My husband was a miracle worker those first few weeks. He gave of himself more than any man should have had to. I cried every night the first week we were our new family unit at home. R would sleep, I would cry, and A would read me stories trying to get my mind off of how terrified I was. What a mess we were. And to be honest, it just got messier from there.
I hit my breaking point a couple of months ago. I was riding in the car and had such anxiety about being in a horrible wreck I could barely contain my fears enough so we could get to where we were going. Again, A put up with a lot from me, including me tapping his shoulder every 90 seconds telling him to slow down. I finally was able to admit my fears, my anxiety, and even my depression had gotten to a point that was unbearable for any of us.
I sought help from a trusted doctor. I was prescribed an SSRI that I will admit has been a life changer. I am a new wife, a new mom, and a new person. I recently wrote to someone how I regret not asking for help sooner, that looking back on the past year I see myself as simply surviving and not living. While I know not everyone needs medication, and I am a big proponent for talk therapy, I encourage anyone who doesn't see themselves as a life but only sees one step to another to talk to someone and seek help from different sources. I know I will never be the same after what I have experienced, but I hope that means I will be better, and maybe I can use my honesty about how I felt to encourage others.
Oh, and I am glad I didn't run that day. Of course, the cries of my boy eventually faded to smiles and giggles. And as we sat in church this morning and he pointed at all of the people around us saying "Who dat?" I thanked God for the clarity I have of how incredibly blessed my life is, and for the precious gift of my son and husband.
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