Hope

The other night I stumbled upon the blog of a stay at home mom who suffered from severe post-partum depression shortly after her daughter was born. She is a very honest writer, and I found myself lost in her story. She chronicled all of her experiences from the weeks before her daughter was born to the day that she checked herself into the hospital because of severe depression and anxiety due to post partum issues. I found the entire thing fascinating, mainly because much of what she wrote reminded me of myself, with one major difference. She is not a believer. Not living with the hope of Christ's death and resurrection. And I came face to face with the reality that she was painting a picture of what my life would look like apart from Christ. Oh how thankful I am that in his mercy and grace he saved me. He saved filthy, broken, tendency to get lost in anxiety and depression me, and oh how thankful I was that I had that hope. The hope that not only am I justified, I am in process of being sanctified, meaning that he will not allow me to get lost in anxiety and depression. Oh praise Jesus. Praise Jesus. Regardless of this major difference between us, however, I still found myself relating to her in so many ways. She has struggled her whole life with addictions and control issues and all those sorts of things. The kinds of things that I am always on the brink of. But again, I have hope and the promise that God is always working on me, changing me more and more and more to look like the true image of myself. The non-broken image of myself. And my heart went out to this girl. I think her life feels somewhat under control now. She makes lots of money blogging, she is on the other side of post-partum and heavily relies on medication and therapy and writing/blogging to remain on the "other side," and her daughter is now older, and she enjoys motherhood.

Reading what she wrote reminded me of the first month of Ada's life. I will be honest with you, things were pretty grim. My mother and Ann carried me through that first month when I was somewhat in a state of shock, not sure of how this tiny infant could turn my world upside down so quickly. They both said it would get better and indeed it did, and looking back now, it really didn't take that long for things to begin to settle in and life began to take on a new normal. But I do remember when Ada was so little, two weeks or so, and I was somewhat freaking out, to put it bluntly. I mean, freaking out. And I understood what everyone meant when they said post-partum depression or hormonal imbalance or whatever you want to call it. But in the midst of all that, I knew that I was going to be okay. And when I felt so incapable of being Ada's mom, I knew that God was in control of this little girl's life, and for whatever reason, he had chosen me. And He was going to carry us through it. And I relied on that. Yes, there were other things I did to get me okay, but mostly what made me okay was knowing that God was in control so it didn't matter if I wasn't. So if I had to take the God factor away, well I suppose I would find myself in a hospital too. Because the fact of the matter is that none of us are in control. So if that happens to be your idol--being in control--the way it is mine and apparently the author of the blog I was reading, well you will go crazy apart from Christ. Literally crazy. And again, my heart went out to this girl. And she's not the type that you feel sorry for. She seems like a very strong woman, with a very strong support group, but she doesn't have Christ. And I don't think she thinks that she needs him. And as things like that have a tendency to do, reading her story just humbled me because there is nothing about me that deserves Christ. Nothing. But He is mine. And that is my hope. And I pray, oh I pray, that one day she will have that hope as well.