Get the tissues, because this guest post is so powerful! I want My Beloved to be a platform for other moms (and dads!) to share their stories. My postpartum depression story and recovery might look different from others. Christine and I lived next door to each other growing up. On occasion, during my sophomore year in high school, I would ride with Christine and her sister to school. We have stayed in touch though through Facebook and our parents are still friends. Our moms help each other out with baby equipment when the grandchildren go to visit! Christine was a teacher and is now a stay at home mom to three beautiful kids and runs her own business, KienBee Boutique (She made Ewan’s pendent in his room!) and founded Babes Support Babes. I hope that you are just as touched by her story as I was!
I’m fine.
Two words I would often say when greeted by a friend. Never elaborating and always pushing myself to be the outgoing Christine they knew and loved.
I was a new mommy of three kids; ages five, two, and three months. Teacher turned stay-at-home mom, minivan driver, and wife to an amazing man of eight years. Looking from the outside in, I would say I had it all. The pictures I posted on my social media would have displayed happiness and contentment.
But in reality, I wasn’t fine. After having my third baby I found myself unable to shake off the baby blues and I would feel as if I was living in a shell of a person. My days were filled with fear, anger, and sadness. The world around me was going on and I felt stuck in this slump, endless bad mood. I was drowning in my fears and since I didn’t have control of my emotions I channeled that into wanting to control everything.
Spilled milk, a mess in the playroom, or the sight of laundry baskets not tended to were just a few triggers that would send me into a down whirl spiral. I thought I could just stuff it all in and deal with it myself. Days of feeling hopeless turned into months. I just wanted to stay in my comfy bed with my blanket over me. I wanted to hide from my endless responsibilities and just sleep away the voice in my head that said, “You’re not good enough.”
Between the lies I was hearing in my head and the lack of strength I had to conquer my feeling, I knew I didn’t want this to be my story anymore. I believed I served a God who would heal me. In the morning when I barely had the motivation to read my Bible, I would play it out loud, believing the scriptures would help me. I would speak this verse over and over to myself, Heal me, LORD, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for you are the one I praise.” Jeremiah 17:14
I can vividly remember one evening, I couldn’t sleep so I got out of bed, headed upstairs and just sat and wrote everything that was on my mind. I bawled, ugly cried while listening to “Hills and Valley by Tauren Wells” The song spoke of God being there through the good and bad times. I boldly prayed that the Lord would heal and change me, so I would be filled with joy and laughter that I once experienced.
After writing it all down, I closed my journal and texted my mom and sister. I told them I needed time to speak with them. I knew writing out my feelings was only a piece to getting healthy. I needed accountability and women to speak truth into my life. I met up with them the next day and laid it all out. I told them I was struggling with PPD and needed help. They listened, acknowledged my pain, hugged me, cried with me, and prayed. This was just the beginning of my healing and I knew I was going to fight hard to not go back to the days of sadness and fear.
I wish I could say after that day I did not suffer with PPD anymore, and I was completely healed. I was on the road to recovery but needed to make changes in my life to help me overcome this battle. I realized that I pushed myself to the side when it came to taking care of my body, mind, and soul. I desperately needed to replenish myself, so I would be able to care of my family.
I joined a gym and started exercising on a regular basis. I went to bed earlier to get extra sleep even though my little one was waking up during the night. I began eating healthier to help nourish my body and keep me energized for the day. I started listening to positive music and podcasts to help my mind stay focused on the good, not the bad. I made time in my day to sit in silence and pray. I surrounded myself with life-giving friends who asked the hard questions about how I was doing and made me laugh till my cheeks hurt. And one of the biggest things I needed to realize was that I was enough. My failings and shortcoming as a wife and mom did not define me. I am given an unending grace that covers all, so I can believe that no matter what I do or say, I am loved and highly valued.
It has been a year since my recovery, and I sit here typing not ashamed of the trial I experienced. I believe there is learning and growth through every situation. My battle with PPD taught me I was stronger than I believed I was. I see now that my faith was growing even though I felt I was so far away from God.
I believe my ten months of suffering was not in vain but enables me to help other moms struggling with post-partum depression. My hope is these words you are reading are giving you peace in knowing your trial, this season, or even your past does not define you. You are stronger than you know, and you are enough. Stop pretending that these feelings of sadness, fear, and anger will all just go away. Take the step right now to get help. Contact a trusted friend or find a counselor and let them into what you are experiencing. You are not a burden and taking care of yourself is the best thing you can do for your family. I believe in you and know the narrative of your story will change from sadness to joy.
Your cheerleader,
Christine
My Beloved 