1) I never really intended this blog to be about my personal postpartum and miscarriage issues, but so be it.
2) I wonder if it’s weird that I write about it. Or helpful.
I hope helpful. If my intention is to keep my eyes fixed, as with “a bigger lens,” on the greater purposes of God in daily mothering, and this is where I am, well … here I am.
OK, three thoughts. Do we REALLY have to be putting up with pre-season football and falling leaves already? I miss summer.
So, it’s now clear that my postpartum hormones are still out of whack, and that they are the perpetrators of my crazy anxiety problems. (Thank you, Lord, again, for medicine!) Without giving too many details, let’s just say, I may just have to expect that certain times of the month may be difficult. I had a huge spike in anxiety the day after I wrote my previous post … terrible, terrible physical and mental distress and a feeling of wanting to escape from my own skin. The magical medicine was not helping even a little bit that day. I could barely eat and resigned myself to just watch a movie with the kids. It was so bad I even made an appointment to go in to see the counselor. I also had my medications tweaked a bit, and felt slightly better day by day. Today (one week later), I feel that my appetite is just about normal again.
When I feel that way, not much helps, but at least I know that God delivered me before, and will deliver me again. One of the most comforting things a friend recently told me was, “I have had many bouts of anxiety and depression, and God has delivered me out of all of them.”
That evening (last Monday), I was in the car with my iPod shuffle and a Third Day song came on with the lyrics: “There’s a light at the end of this tunnel for you, so keep holding on” (or something very close to that). It brought tears to my eyes, because I had just journaled the day before that I did not see any end to this grief. I literally wrote that “I still can’t see the light at the end of the tunnel.” God is so kind. He really does want to give us hope in our suffering.
And yet today, I do not feel sad and I feel positive about getting to a place of healing and having more children. Hormones are NUTTY. It really has been helpful talking to the therapist and the physician’s assistant, because they have explained that our female hormones really do affect the levels of serotonin and norepinephrine in the brain. And when they create an imbalance, your brain becomes like some sort of enemy and it feels like it is not your own. And it’s a scary place to be.
There’s so much I could say about this experience, but the final point for tonight is something I also cried over reading Charles Spurgeon (who himself had terrible bouts of depression). From the August 17th evening devotion in Morning and Evening:
From our Lord’s words we learn that there is a limit to sickness. Here is an ‘in’ which means that its ultimate end is restrained, and there is a limit beyond which it cannot go. … In all sickness, the Lord says to the waves of pain, ‘Up to now shall you go, but no further.’ His fixed purpose is not the destruction, but the instruction of His people. Wisdom hangs up the thermometer at the furnace mouth, and regulates the heat.
There’s a lot more good meat in that one, but you’ll just have to get your own copy :) May God give you grace and inner strength for the place He has you today.