Hope for a Hopeless Day

6 years ago, my battle with postpartum depression started.

4 years ago, I recognized and accepted depression would be something that may never leave me.

3 months ago, I was injured and had to stop running after being consistent for 1.5 years… running helped me fight those dark days. I credited running to feeling the best I had felt, mentally and physically, in 6 years.

I lost running around the time I lost my dog. I lost running around the time the reality of our move had settled in. I lost running when the cold stark grey days of my first northern Illinois winter moved in.

I was so fearful of what was next. Was I going to dip into the darkness for longer periods of time without my running? Was I going to start obsessively worrying about my body image? Was I strong enough to find other ways to help my spirits? Would I lose all that I had worked for the last 18 months?

“WHY GOD!? WHY? Why did you take away the ONE thing that I thought you gave me to fight? The one thing that stayed constant in my life after so many changes? The one thing that I could turn to and know would always give me the boost I needed?”

And yet… Jesus Himself was all of that. He IS all of that. I have been reminded over these past months that it is not the running that saves me and that helps me grow stronger… it is the acceptance that “when I am weak, He is strong.”

This morning was tough. We’ve been struggling with sickness in our house again which carries its own bag of difficulties… exhaustion, isolation, loneliness, restlessness. These can be triggers for me, especially the feeling of being closed in and stuck. It is so easy to let my mind race back to my past struggles when triggered if I am not careful. As I drove to drop the older kids off at school the day loomed before me like an endless chasm. The stabbing physical pain of emptiness kept punching me in the heart. How could I do this day? Hopelessness started to overwhelm my mind and my years of training “what to do when down” kicked in.

Running.

Nope can’t do that.

Visiting my friends?

I am still in the baby stages of forming friendships.

And in that moment, I had a choice. I could choose to throw a massive pity party for myself and let my emotions and feelings entrench me, or I could choose to do something else. God gave me the strength to do the latter because if it was fully up to me, I would have started to blow up the balloons.

The sun was deceptively bright and though it was only 25 degrees I decided to take a walk. Making a mental note not to look at the clock, I started to gather layers of clothing for Colin and I.  This reminded me of the joy that mindfulness can bring… the way being right here and right now allows for the pain of hopelessness to melt away.  

As I started to walk down the street with Colin on my back and the sun shinning brightly on my face,

I took a deep breath in and no longer felt trapped. Blood pumped through my very alive body and I was thankful to be here sharing this time with my son. After a mile I asked Colin if he was cold and wanted to go home to which he vehemently replied “NO!” Smiling, we marveled at the beauty of the frozen ponds, spotted robins which brought with them the hope of spring and giggled as I carefully stepped over ice patches.

Walking back into the house I felt so much lighter. God’s beauty and the reality that I was strong enough to have chosen to seek it filled me with hope. The joy in the present moment helped carry me the rest of the day. 

I will run again and when I do I will glorify God. I will feel down again and when I do I will remember that He is strong. The cold of darkness feels awful but the warmth of the sun will come again.

Take hope! You are not alone!

You are there

It's hard to not let myself think back 6 years ago on this night without some trepidation. The night before my second child was born just hours into the next day. The night that changed everything in my life. I wish I could run to that young woman, laboring in her home, hold her tight and say "you are going to get through what is to come, you are going to make it. Many times you will feel forsaken by God, but He never left your side."

You have searched me, LORD, and you know me.

A few months before Nolan was born we made life altering changes. I left my job, became a stay at home mom and moved away from my friends and my life in Connecticut. I felt so alone and foreign in the beautiful fields of Lancaster. I remember crying almost everyday from the exhaustion of being pregnant and feeling like a failure as Mikayla and I tried to get used to spending all day together. I was frantically putting myself into every opportunity I could find to meet friends before the baby came and felt all the more distant when friendships didn't bloom overnight. It was overwhelming. It was stifling.

You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. 

You discern my going out and my lying down; You are familiar with all my ways. 

The day my sweet baby boy was born I remember gazing out my window at a tractor plowing the field next to the hospital and feeling listless. It seemed so wrong to be feeling that way when I was holding new life and joy in my arms, my heart double the size it was the day before. Those first few weeks were a blur of sleepless nights, adjustment, small victories and a slight heaviness that seemed to have settled itself in the recesses of my chest.

Before a word is on my tongue you, LORD, know it completely. 

You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me. 

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me, 

too lofty for me to attain. 

I used to get angry that postpartum depression took over after that. I used to feel robbed of my life during those years... I still do at times. The following 2 years, Nolan's birthday was a reminder of how far I hadn't gotten. That I was still depressed. That I still thought my family was better off without me. The lies were still speaking. My trust in God had faltered. A time that was supposed to be filled with joy and celebration had a dark cloud over it. For so long I wanted to yell and shake that young naïve woman..."You are about to go into hell, why did you let yourself get to this point, what are all of the things that you did wrong to deserve this fate, how could you have ever thought life was going to be good!?"

Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? 

If I go up to the heavens; you are there. If I make my bed in the depths, you are there. 

If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, 

even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast.

But then a small light shone through. Nolan's third birthday approached. I was anxious that I would tailspin into weeks of darkness. Two weeks before I had miscarried our precious baby and was still grieving the loss. I didn't know what to expect. The day before Nolan's birthday came and I didn't feel the heaviness, hopelessness and despair that my depression liked to lasso me with. Instead I felt light. For the first time since his birth I was able to truly celebrate. 

If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," even the darkness will not be dark to you; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to you.

Here I am now. And as I was 6 years ago, living in a new State which is widely different from the Lancaster I grew to love. Once again I am without my life and community that was created so beautifully out of the ashes. But unlike the precious young woman of that night, I am here with a renewed spirit. God took me from the nothingness I became from my suffering and helped build me into a stronger, more empathetic and wiser person. I am still broken, I still have my days of mistrust and fear, but I know that He has done a good work in me. And for that I praise Him. 

For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 

Tomorrow while the kids yell who gets what piece of cake, argue about whose present gets opened first and sing at the top of their lungs... I am going to stop and savor the gift of the day. I am here to live another day. I am here to feel the warmth of Nolan's cheeks as I engulf my sweet boy in kisses. I am here because God saved me and He still has so much left to do in my life. To God be the glory for all the great things He has done!

Psalm 139:1-14

Owning It

I was standing in my friend Margaret's kitchen shortly before we moved to Illinois when she remarked, "ElisaBeth you are a runner" to which I replied "um no" to which she replied "um yes" with a look that would not let me go until I begrudgingly replied "ok fine I guess I'm a runner." She looked triumphant.

I have found the overwhelming theme of my 36th year to be "owning it"... owning my confidence, my beauty, my strength and the truths in my life. I spent so much time rebuilding myself the last 5 years that I haven't stopped to see the amazing progress God has done in my life. Allowing myself to be proud of who I am is a very foreign concept, one which I am slowly learning to embrace. I am so grateful to friends, like Margaret, who often remind me and remain SO patient with my growth.

A few months ago my therapist asked me to find a "token" of what exemplifies my beauty. I have been mulling it over for weeks and weeks and I could not come up with anything... until today.

Running!!

Not exactly a token, but something I can look at in this season of life as my saving grace, a picture of what beauty and strength is to me and something I have followed through with.

A year and a half ago I sat down and opened up my journal to a page that asked for a list of dreams that would make this year the "best ever." I hadn't let myself think past tomorrow for 4 years. Getting through each day seemed like a feat in itself and even conversations about the weekend would send me into panic. I was finally at a place where I could think about tomorrow and not get overwhelmed. Think about tomorrow and not feel the immense heaviness of depression that would surely come when I awoke in the morning. It was exciting and freeing. And besides these were dreams... so the pressure was off if they didn't all come true.

my dreams

I wrote the list and one of the dreams was to run consistently for 1 year. I knew how much running helped my depression and  mental health in the past (check out my post Panic Made Me Run) and I wanted be consistent again and this time not stop. This was a way to challenge and help myself at the same time!

16 months and an estimated 630+ miles later I am still running and will be running my farthest distance race to date in 3 weeks. This last year has been filled with SO many challenges and unknowns and running as been my one constant. Putting on my shoes, listening to my breath and my feet hit the pavement and taking time for myself has been empowering and has given me the best mental health year since 2010.

In the past, the kind of curve balls life has thrown our family this year would have sent me into panic attacks and weeks of feeling down... instead I am equipped to use the tools I have learned to help me in those dark moments. Running has made it possible to quickly access the tool box.

The girl who wasn't sure she would be able to live another day battling her depression... made it. The girl whose saw herself as nothing... sees her worth. The girl who felt ugly inside and out... now catches glimpses of her beauty. The girl who didn't know if she believed in God anymore... understands His role in her life so much more then ever before. The girl who never thought she would run... RUNS!

Because of You

It's hard to believe that you, dear one, would have been 2 years old a few weeks ago. We would have had such a fun party. Your sister and brother would have doted on you, your daddy would have made sure the theme of the party was the one word you were saying the most and I would have drunk in the moments watching you turn from baby to kid, but still be thankful for the baby cheeks that would have stayed. Dear baby I miss you! I want you! I will always love you! 

Just tonight I was telling daddy how much joy your brother, Colin, brings to us. He is like the period to our sentences. The giggle after the hard day. Even when his lower lip sticks out and starts to quiver after I ask him to “please be gentle” we are still so in love with this little boy. 

He wouldn’t have been, if you were not.

This is SUCH a hard concept to comprehend when I think of you, baby, when I want you to know that I MISS you. I love you SO much and I can’t wait to see you and yet I am so thankful for your brother. I would have never known him if it weren’t for you. I never got to stuff my face into your neck and smell your sweet sweet smell, but because of you, I get to snuggle Colin whenever I want. 

Thank you for living with me those short weeks. Thank you for helping me hope that I could have another baby, that I was strong enough to combat my depression. Thank you for the joy that you brought me.

With you I was full, without you I have a piece missing and yet I am newly formed into a woman with more empathy, compassion, and dare I say, more love to give my children here on earth.

Thank you baby.

Dear Baby

As I recount the last 24 hours of the moments you were living inside of me I think of the joy that had my heart overflowing. The excitement of your gift of life, the secret that only a few knew of, the counting ahead of the months to come and when I would finally get to meet you, get to hold you.

The night before you were lost to me forever I spent playing in an orchestra concert. I was proud to be playing my violin, glowing from the inside out, feeling strong as a woman who could create life and create art at the same time. Chatting with fellow musicians about the day, all the while beaming from within and wanting to shout from the rooftops that I carried not only my own soul, but yours as well.

Going to sleep that night I spoke to your daddy and we talked through names that we wanted to name you. I know you were still so small, so tiny, but your presence emanated from my every thought. You were there with us… or at least I thought you were.

The next morning, we went to church and as I sang to God I thought with expectation of the coming weeks when you could begin to hear me, begin to know me. We came home and had pizza for lunch and before eating I noticed one small spot of blood… the thought that you may no longer be here crossed my mind, however I didn’t let it take over. I didn’t think that your precious life could be taken from me so suddenly. I didn’t think that God would allow for your spirit to soar ahead without me. 

As I drove the hour to get to my second orchestra concert of the weekend I tried to let peace overtake me. Tried to reason that all would be ok. I reached the auditorium, set my violin down and headed towards the bathroom. And that’s when I knew you were gone. Though I still held onto a small hope.

Rushing back into the auditorium white as a ghost I was approached by some fellow violinists. One grabbed me in her arms, held me fiercely tight like a mama bear to her cub and prayed to Jesus for you. Prayed to Jesus for me. I grabbed my violin and ran back to my car and made the trek home. My sweet baby, it was a long ride… not knowing if you were still there with me. 

The next morning was hazy. At the doctor’s office… staring at the women and their swollen bellies, the women and their newborn babies, I waited. And then I was told that you were gone. As I lay on the chair and stared at the screen that was supposed to show your life, all I saw was emptiness. And I felt empty.

I had to get blood taken three more times after that trip to the doctor’s office. Watch the numbers in my blood that shouted of your existence fade away. Diminish. It was like you were never even here… 

But. You were.

Missing you and loving your brother so much

It was that same chair that I laid on and the same screen that I stared at 3 short months later when I saw your brother wriggling around. Where I heard his sweet, strong heartbeat. Where I was able to accept that he was alive in that moment. But you were on my mind. I would never get to see you in such a way. I would never get to hear your heartbeat. I loved your brother, baby, but I missed you so so much. I didn’t want you to think we had forgotten you. That we had just decided to replace you with another. 

I can’t wait to meet you. I can’t wait to see your smile and bury my head in your hair. I can’t wait to tell you how much I have always loved you. You will never be forgotten. Your very being filled me with unspeakable joy.

You will never know what pain is, or suffering. You will never be scared or hurt. All you will know is the unbridled love and peace of our Savior. One day I will share this with you. Until then… you will always have a piece of my heart.

Summer

It's the summer. That means 3 kids, all day, all the time. A new thing for us. I'd love to write more,

but it's a miracle I have a moment to stop at all today amidst packing for our first vacation as a family of 5.

I'll just say this... these past few weeks have made me feel like I have never worked harder in my life. But in reality I have... I worked to save my life through my depression and that work started almost 4 years ago to the day. I'm not reminding myself of this to diminish the feelings I'm having now, but to bring empowerment that I am stronger then I have ever been.  Praises to God for all He has given me and gotten me through!

Going going all day long.

No time to sing my own song.

Little hands and little feet.

Guiding, teaching, keeping sweet.

Moments of pure joy and fear.

Moments of how did I get here.

Will I raise them up to love?

Will I raise them to know the one above?

Overwhelmed and always tired.

Fact is I'll never be fired.

Hearts so pure, so open, so true.

Little lips saying "I love you."

It is a season, a blip in time.

Slowly speeding... but it is mine.

Grace to Pull the Rip Cord

Lately I've been feeling a lot of this...

50,000 things I could do.

10,000 things I should do.

10 things I am able to do.

I spend most of my time in freefall trying to manage three little ones. Commitments have fallen by the wayside, things I once found pertinent to maintain a sense of self have been shelved and a new way of managing the chaos is... well... it's still developing. When I find myself about to fall into the abyss, never to be seen from again, I somehow (ok truly by the grace of God) am able to grab the rip cord, give it a big tug, and once again fly upwards, clear and free, into the chaos.

As the chance of  being able to fulfill commitments, housework, growing my marriage, friendships, taking a shower, all pass by me at an alarming rate, I have let discouragement creep in. Misery loves company doesn't it? And that tiny little gnat of self doubt nipping at my ear turns into a giant mosquito biting me at every turn and blindly leading me into comparing myself to others.

Ah comparing.

It's like a curse word whispered underneath the breath of all young moms. Her baby is a week old and she is ALREADY walking two miles?! She has 4 kids and she looks like THAT?! She homeschools all 7 of her children and can still provide a home cooked meal to those in need?!

Come on... you know you've done it.

It's something we all do and have all done since we understood people were different then us. Some are more prone to compare, to lay judgement, others are able to be truly glad for the strengths they see in their peers and applaud them for their achievements.... but no one is perfect.

Typically I am the latter, often seeing what others can do as good for them and then moving on. However, lost in the chaos that is now my life, I've found it easier to look at so and so and see if they "seem" to have it all together then so should I.

A few weeks ago I was feeling discouraged about being unable to fully support Dhrumil in a struggle he was facing. Unknowingly I started comparing myself to him and how he had been able to walk by myside during three years of grueling postpartum depression with the right words to say, the right things to do and being one of  the most important supports in my recovery. It took a dear wise friend to tell me to stop comparing myself to him. She reminded me that he has his own strengths and I have mine. He may be able to support me in ways that I can't support him, however that does not mean I don't have my own strengths and ways to support him.

Again and again I have heard the same message from different friends over the past few weeks and through them God has been telling me...

You have your strengths, they have theirs. They don't look the same, they are not the same, but that doesn't mean your strengths or their strengths are any better. If you are unable to do what they do, that is ok! Stop comparing! I have created you as a unique, beautiful individual who can do and will do many amazing things... and they are what I have created you to do. You are enough.

Last night I was talking to a fellow mom of three about my frustration with still not being able to figure out how to manage my life and the lives of three little ones. She laughed, threw her hands up in the air and told me that having three is chaos and you just have to embrace it. As she shared some of her experiences a weight was lifted off of me as I heard my own struggles in hers. Why do we not share are struggles more openly? Think of how supported we would feel. She may approach her struggles differently, but that doesn't mean her life is still not just as chaotic as mine.

And so... here I am. At the end of my post.

Perhaps what I wrote will help others embrace what they can do and stop comparing to others what they can not do. I'm going to challenge myself this week to fully embrace the 10 things (or at least three tiny people things) I am able to accomplish and smile and cheer for my peers who are accomplishing the other 9,990...

OR are they really?

Who cares!! Up I float once again out of the abyss for my God has got me.