I’ve been putting off writing this post. Or really writing any post. But it’s time to just do it. So here goes….
Postpartum depression doesn’t always look like what you think. It doesn’t always happen in the neat little 6 week window when your doctor or midwife asks you all the questions to identify it and your husband pays close attention to your every move watching for it. It doesn’t always look as drastic as the tragic stories on the news either. It doesn’t always come with a diagnosis (possibly because of the denial that it’s even happening) or a treatment plan.
Sometimes it manifests itself in the form of apathy after months of sleepless nights. (Harvard says studies show that even short term sleep deprivation can cause depression symptoms here.) A lack of motivation to care about your house, your children, your hobbies, yourself. Not apathy like, “Oh, I don’t care,” but a complete numbness that leaves you looking at this helpless child and feeling… nothing. Except guilt for not feeling anything.
I’ve been putting off this post, arrogantly waiting until I was on the other side. And while I think the deep numbness has subsided (and I truly have moments of joy in my children again), I wouldn’t say I’m “cured.” The truth is that God doesn’t always heal things immediately. He doesn’t always make that baby sleep. He doesn’t always give you instant joy. But He does answer. He just likes to be asked.
Recently, we were reading The Magician’s Nephew (CS Lewis’ prequel to The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe). I won’t ruin it for you, but the kiddos go on a journey to retrieve something for Aslan (the Jesus figure) and find themselves at dinner time without any food. One of them says, “You’d think He would have thought of that.” And another character says, “I’ve no doubt He did. But I have the feeling He likes to be asked.” That pretty much defines the season I’m in right now.
I’m not asking God because He doesn’t know. Or because He’s a big Santa in the sky going to grant my wishes. But I’m asking because He says to.
Keep on asking, and you will receive what you ask for. Keep on seeking, and you will find. Keep on knocking and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks, receives. Everyone who seeks finds. And to everyone who knocks, the door will be opened. Matthew 7:7-8 (NLT)
I’m asking every day for God to make my baby sleep. To stretch my minutes of sleep. To give me joy in being a mom again. To be my joy. To make me care. To be my portion. Every. Day. Why? Because He is my portion for today. And tomorrow, I need to ask again. When the Israelites were in the desert (wandering for 40 years because they disobeyed), God still provided food for them. For that day. And that day alone. The manna (aka “what is it?”) was only good for that day and wouldn’t keep for the next. They had to come back to God daily and rely on Him.
I forgot. Again. That I need Him daily. That I cannot do this. I do not have the strength to simply soldier on. I don’t have the cleverness to figure it out. I can put on a good show for a few days. But I have to ask… and KEEP on asking. And, little by little, my baby sleeps a little better (sometimes). I have moments of gag-me-with-a-spoon gushy love for my kiddos again when I just sit in awe of their beauty. I have moments of clarity or productivity. But more importantly, I have a much healthier relationship with my Father, who is a good Dad because He is calling me back to Himself.
As much as I hate how tired this season is and the pain and numbness that has come with it, I can see now how He used it for good. I’m not to the point where I would say “I wouldn’t trade it,” but I can see how, in spite of it, HE is Good.