The Rainbow

Being pregnant after a miscarriage has been a completely different experience for me. I approached my first two pregnancies with a sort of naive sense of wonder. Unbridled joy and entitlement were my friends and I went about life without even pausing to let my mind go "there".

My third pregnancy was different... it had been almost three years since I had been pregnant and I felt anxious. I had seen precious friends lose their babies and I knew much more of life's suffering. I had been joyful for those few weeks and yet I had moments where I felt that my sweet baby would not live here on earth with me. I had to continuously remind myself that I was not in control! And when that ever so small, but ever so precious life left me... a small part of me left as well. I never realized how someone so small could so deeply effect me.

Today was my third prenatal visit, but I was still extremely nervous. I have been having trouble accepting that everything is going to be ok this time... that the baby is in fact going to make it and at times... that he/she is still alive. Hope has seemed like something I wasn't allowed to have... I was safer without it.

It felt like time stood still while I waited for the midwife to place the doppler on my belly. I half expected not to hear anything... and then in what felt like an eternity, but was only a moment, the sweet sound of my baby's heartbeat drumming happily away was heard. I could tell the midwife sensed the relief that flooded over me in that moment. As he took my hand to help me sit up he spoke with sincerity "You have been forever changed by your loss... not only do you have the realization that a baby can be easily lost, but that you yourself can experience it." And in that moment I was able to again accept that my feelings of fear were ok. And then move on...

A few weeks ago as I sat staring at my growing belly I was struck with fear and frustration. I was missing someone I had never met... how could I possibly start to love another? How could I even begin to allow myself to remember that God was good after my other baby was taken away? And then a sure small voice said...

I am with you, your baby is in my hands

But God my other baby was in your hands and he/she will never be with me on earth

Yes but that baby was never meant for this earth and instead is with me now and will never have to face fear, disease or pain. It is ok to hope. I know your heart.

Peace washed over me... I was reminded how even when I was so so angry at God for my depression

and feeling completely abandoned... that he was there with me through it all. That I am now a person who I NEVER thought I would be. Confident in Christ who made me! There is no shame in hoping, in believing that this baby is going to be ok... that I will be ok. 

Therefore, since we have been justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ. 2 Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. 3 Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, 4 and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, 5 and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. - Romans 5: 1-5

Three

Do you remember the game MASH? My girlfriends and I would giggle as we wrote down different outcomes for our life. A magical number that was chosen from a swirl on a page would determine the answer chosen. Who was our husband going to be? Where would we live? What job would we have? How many kids would we have? You get the idea. I always remember cheering when I was, according to the game, "destined" to have three kids. Three kids... for some reason was "the" number.

And then life happened. The real thing... not the life that I so giddily dreamed of on paper when I was ten years old. Life that was oh so sweet and magical but also so very dark and full of pain. Through its twists and turns I was given the precious gifts of Mikayla and Nolan. No complications in conceiving, carrying or delivering. I was truly blessed. However, I still felt like our family wasn't complete. Even in the midst of some of my darker days with PPD I had a small longing in my heart to add yet another to our family.

My postpartum depression lingered on and on... our world was turned upside down by it. Thoughts of another child were put on the back burner. In some respect I grieved the possibility of never having another baby. I had many conversations with God about why I had to be inflicted with such an illness and why I couldn't just move ahead with MY plan. But I waited... patient and listening. Grasping to all of the moments of joy. Soaking in all of the time spent with my children. 

Almost three years since Nolan was born passed. I was a new person strengthened by my struggles, moving ahead with the tools I had been given and excited about where I was going. I had accepted that depression and anxiety may be an illness I would struggle with on and off for the rest of my life and was at peace with it. I knew that if I had tough times in the future I would be prepared. Naturally the discussion about another baby came up. Different doctor appointments were made to discuss the potential of PPD symptoms returning, hope was made new, safety nets were put into place.

Three weeks ago we lost our precious baby. I was six weeks pregnant and yet the life inside of me
was already attached to my heart. Everyone's experience is different... my experience physically wasn't so terrible, but emotionally, it was heart wrenching. 

Miscarriage is so hard to process for me. There was a life... and then there wasn't. There was hope, joy, excitement, planning... and then there wasn't. For so long I haven't allowed myself to think ahead, I have focused on the present and for a brief moment I took a trip into the future, but that too was snuffed out. It's as if my baby were a snowflake that was sent down from the beauty of the sky and as soon as I caught it, it melted in my hands. Beautiful, perfect, one of a kind. 

God is with me always and I feel His presence through another difficult time in my life. Considering the valleys I have visited, I am doing amazing. I am again living in the present, taking each day as it comes. I am missing the person I will never get to know, never get to hold in my arms, never get to kiss... but I know with time the days will grow easier.

And so life moves ahead... and I with it... bringing along another perspective that will mold me and make me stronger. 

Victory

What do I see in this picture? 

Hope

Love

Joy

Victory

For the first time since my son's birth I was able to celebrate his birthday feeling free from the chains of depression and anxiety. This moment, this day, has been monumental to me. Was it perfect? Of course not!! BUT I did not feel the weight that has followed me for the past three years. Today I felt free! Today was a true gift.

I feel more alive then ever before. I have suffered, but I have come through it. I will continue to come through it. I have seen the possibilities of what I can do with God's help in many difficult and excruciating circumstances. I have pulled through and I am so thankful for all I continue to learn.

Tomorrow is a new day... and with that day I will grab a hold of my savior's hand and march into the battle taking each moment at a time. I know I will stumble and fall. I know life will continue to hurt me. But I know that I can make it. 

OH, VICTORY IN JESUS,

MY SAVIOUR FOREVER

HE SOUGHT ME

AND HE BOUGHT ME

WITH HIS REDEEMING BLOOD

HE LOVED ME

ERE I KNEW HIM

AND ALL MY LOVE

IS DUE HIM

HE PLUNGED ME TO VICTORY

BENEATH THE

CLEANSING BLOOD

To Live Again - Part 3 - Interpretation

One of my favorite things to do is stare at magnificent pieces of art and try to discover their soul. What had the artist meant? What was the artist going through? But even more so... how does it impact me and how I feel? I am the one who is viewing and interpreting it. 

Part of me would like to let you interpret this piece as it is seen in your eyes. Let it speak to you without explanation. But because my personal process of the art is to write it out I am going to interpret bits of it as I have created it to be. Perhaps if you are in the middle of something as awful as anxiety or depression this will give you hope.

There are four sections to my piece, four interwoven things I would have never truly learned to be or feel empowered by if I had not gone through the deep dark valley. Courage, strength, fight and beauty. In all the sections I have used a picture I took showing myself as vulnerable, broken and yet still focusing up and trying to see God. And even in the days when I can't see God, e sees me and is shinning His light down on my face, enveloping me with His grace and love. 

Courage -

This is my anxiety. Red shows the intensity anxiety brings and I cut out the picture of myself in a way to show panic. Puffy paint was used to symbolize how anxiety distorts and exasperates everything in its path. All the words describing what anxiety makes me feel are written in mirrors that constantly glare back at me in loud and unending ways. And then a powerful quote "Don't identify yourself with your feelings, you are not your feelings, you merely have them."  Something I have learned and am still practicing when anxiety and depression want to swallow me up and overwhelm me. My journey has taught me to be COURAGEOUS! To not hide, but speak out in truth. To embrace each moment as it comes. To rise above. To live out my life as it was meant to be... a gift. To feel empowered by my story and to remember there is a God who created me in His image.

Strength -

This is my depression. Blue was chosen because I tend to identify it with sadness. I painted a cape on myself to signify the physical and mental heaviness that wants to envelope and hide me from the world. On the cape I have written how depression makes me feel and the lies that are constantly whispered into my ear. The falling hearts signify wanting to still love life and all things about it but losing the inability to do so. On one side I have the definition of depression, burnt edges signify my frustration towards the illness. Two faces are shown, happiness being covered by sadness. Trying to keep a straight face with those I love, but being eaten up inside. And then a verse from Psalm 43 that has been very poignant to me in my recovery... "Why my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God." The dark and the light represent how depression has taken me to the worst place in my life but there was still light left in me to find the STRENGTH to ask for help and to keep living. The strength that I found then has followed me throughout my journey and made me into who I am today.

Fight -

This part is all about learning to live with anxiety and depression and being able to accept it. The blue and red scarf show that anxiety and depression are part of me, but I am able to subdue them because of self awareness and hard work. The eye is everyone watching me and making their own judgements, but also those who support and love me. "It's okay" has been a huge part of my journey in acceptance of myself. I have a picture of the internal critic... my giant enemy and my toughest FIGHT of all... the ability to quiet it to a dull whisper has been my saving grace. A picture of Dhrumil and the kids is surrounded by yellow to show they are my light in life and a reason I fight, and also some gray because our family is not perfect, it never will be and that's ok. "Sometimes I can imagine that one day we'll throw it all out and start again." To me this means that every day is a new day, filled with moments to be caught and time to be spent right now. Being able to fight for myself has changed by world. 

Beauty - 

The truths of who I am, the parts I have learned to embrace, the knowledge that I am broken yet free... they have taken root and grown. The weeping willow I painted represents the hope I found in the BEAUTY of these truths. Forever I have loved weeping willows... the peaceful sway of the branches in the breeze have brought me to a place of tranquility again and again. It was this image I would focus on while I made my way through labor with my babies and this image that helped me many times when panic wanted to overtake me. By the tree is a picture  of what I found in a parking garage once in the midst of my illness... it was as if God had placed it there for me to see that day... "imperfection in beauty" I have tried to embrace this statement. It is ok to not be perfect! And finally my fingerprints. Each with a color of the four truths that now encircle me on a daily basis. The final fingerprint place over my heart to signify that I am me... I have always been me... and I am thankful to be ME!

Soli Deo Gloria!

To Live Again - Part 2 - My Art

To Live Again
My discoveries through Anxiety and Depression

*Stayed tuned for Part 3 which will cover my interpretation of the piece as well as close ups of each section. 

To Live Again - Part 1 - Art as Therapy

My freshman self engraved in ink

When I was in College I had the privilege of performing in the play I Never Saw Another Butterfly. Based on the true story of WWII concentration camp survivor Raja Englanderova, the story centers around her time spent living in Terezin. Amidst losing all whom she loved, her stories of the camp spoke of the horrors while retaining a world filled with butterflies and flowers with the other children in the camp. This play was based off of a book by the same name which is a compilation of drawings and poems created by the children who were imprisoned in Terezin. Out of 15,000 children who passed through this particular concentration camp, less than 100 survived.

When I played the role of Raja I was nineteen years old and had not yet faced any true struggles of my own. Finding her voice was difficult as I had to dig deep into the horrors of the war and attempt to wrap my head around the travesty done to millions. I barely skimmed the surface of what Raja must have felt like, but for me it was an all encompassing darkness. However in the midst of the horror was refuge for Raja and the children of Terezin. Famous intellectuals and artists who were imprisoned in the camp used art, writing and music as a form of therapy for the children throughout their stay. The children had an outlet to express all they were experiencing which shined a small light on such a bleak time.

The last, the very last,

So richly, brightly, dazzlingly yellow.
Perhaps if the sun’s tears would sing 
against a white stone....

Such, such a yellow
Is carried lightly ’way up high.
It went away I’m sure 
because it wished 
to kiss the world good-bye.

For seven weeks I’ve lived in here,
Penned up inside this ghetto.
But I have found what I love here.
The dandelions call to me
And the white chestnut branches in the court.
Only I never saw another butterfly.

That butterfly was the last one.
Butterflies don’t live in here, in the ghetto.

Pavel Friedman, June 4, 1942
Born in Prague on Jan. 7, 1921.
Deported to the Terezin Concentration Camp on April 26, 1942. 
Died in Aushchwitz on Sept. 29, 1944.

The art of the children and how they worked through some of their traumas within a creative outlet stuck with me all of these years. When it came to creating my own art therapy project my mind went back to this play, this story and those children.

My first doodles... and horrible spelling

I have sporadically kept a journal throughout my life, writing about things that were important to me, but also using it as an outlet for whatever angst I was going through at the time... teenage dilemmas, boy drama, college choices. I can remember first adding drawings (aka doodles) to my writing in middle school while on one of my European trips. The pictures from my mind filling in the gaps that my words could not. I by no means think of myself as an artist and have often wished I had skill in that area. I am a very visual person and see so many things in my mind which I wish I could create on paper or canvas.

During the fight of my life that depression took me on these past few years I clung to my journal and wrote and drew. I played my violin to numb my mind and silence it. I also used this blog to help me get through many hard nights. All of these forms of art provided expression and a way to work through and understand what I was feeling.

A few weeks ago a picture came to me... my journey, my recovery, my lessons and what they all looked like. I decided I had to somehow get it out and took the step to go to the craft store. Staring at shelves and shelves of every medium available to create I chose a few items. Uncharacteristically I didn't put much thought into what I hoped would translate into my vision and was unfazed by the normally overwhelming array of things. I even left the store unfazed that my two year old was having the tantrum of his life!

Excitement filled me as I took the pictures that would be the base of my project. My mind wanted to make an order to how I was going to create and my type A personality wanted it to go exactly as planned. And then I made my first "mistake" on the canvas... doubt started to creep in, perfection was screaming to take over and frustration and self criticism were lurking in the background. Who was I to even attempt "art"!? And then I came upon this quote...

"If you are willing to do something that might not work, 

you're closer to being an artist" 

I made my mind up. Be now, be focused on where being now wants to take you, use what you have learned on this journey to be your guide and do this for yourself because YOU are worth it. 

*To be continued in Part 2 - My Art

Acceptance... again

I realize the summer has gone by and I haven't blogged. Sometimes I take an unintentional hiatus
from writing because life is... of all things... going well. I find that writing is more of an outlet for my soul when it is troubled. Just listen to the great women of old sing the blues and you'll understand what I mean... the writers of those songs were definitely feeling some intense feelings. Unfortunately this wasn't the case this time...

Living life to the fullest despite my illness

It has been two years and nine months since my precious Nolan was born, two years and six months since I realized something was uncontrollably wrong with me, and exactly two years since I completed my hours upon hours of intensive outpatient therapy which had followed my three day stay in the hospital. I honestly thought I'd be WAY over being depressed and eons past anxiety induced panic attacks by now. After all, I was diagnosed with postpartum depression/anxiety... from what certain people told me, and some articles I had read, PPD is "supposed" to go away within a year of giving birth.*** I always had an end date in mind because of that and it was not until earlier this summer did it hit me that this illness is not going away like I had imagined it would.

Do you remember that scene from A Beautiful Mind long after John Nash accepted he was ill with schizophrenia and was now older and talking to a former colleague? The colleague asked if "they" (meaning his delusions) are still with him. I can't remember his exact reply, but in the scene you see the delusions who plagued him sitting silently beside him looking bored, but also waiting with some expectation for him to acknowledge them. John Nash was trying to live his life in the best way he could even though his illness still followed him around. He recognized he was ill and yet he still tried to move ahead.

And so after that fateful moment of realization that this PPD has morphed into something more... possibly even chronic... did I come face to face with a choice. Do I sit here and wait for my illness to play its course, let it beat me down, give it what it wants, let it fester and feed on my anxiety and self doubts, let it control me... or do I learn to live with it, trying to the best of my ability to move on with it there, but not letting it take over? Was I ready to accept it?

A joyous moment

I see a pattern in this journey I'm on. Honestly it can sometimes be rather annoying. I wish I could learn my lesson and move on. Some days I just want to shout to God... HELLO!? Enough is enough! I already accepted the fact that I had a "temporary" mental illness two years ago. I accepted that it wasn't my fault that I was dealing with depression. I accepted that my life in that moment would be different and tougher than it had been. I accepted that I had to let go of control and let God be my focus because I was broken... illness or not. BUT I don't want to have to RE ACCEPT it!!!  And in my toil I felt a still small voice say to me... ElisaBeth you are my child whom I love. You are not alone. You are loved forever and always. I give you my grace over and over and over again. I am here. And though you may continue to stumble and fall flat on your face and though this horrible affliction of your mind is still upon you I will NOT leave you for you are my creation and I love you. It is ok. You will get through this. 

I am going to continue to live my life. Trying to accept where I'm at... being joyous in the moments of clarity, blessed in the moments that I glimpse God's glory in the ordinary doings of every day life and remembering that I am loved no matter what.

*** I have since read that PPD can become chronic in a percentage of women.