This post was largely inspired by a very wonderful mamma and fellow blogger who, sadly, lives a province (and an ocean) away but who's blog I read regularly and enjoy.
She shared very openly a few weeks ago about her struggle with PPD (postpartum depression).
She stepped out and got real.
She empowered me and now I want to get real too.
Confession: I was petrified to have Paisley.
I was overjoyed when I found out we were pregnant.
I lived in every moment of my pregnancy and welcomed each kick, punch and bout of hiccups.
I embraced the life in me and celebrated it.
But behind and underneath all of that was a genuine and deep-rooted fear.
Not of labour or pain or delivery or of something going wrong, but of the moment when everyone goes home and I've got a newborn to take care of. Every time I would think about it, my stomach would turn and twist itself into an unfixable knot and I'd be on the verge of being sick.
There were times that I truly believed I wouldn't survive another day after Denay was born, and since that was all I knew, that's what I was bracing myself for when the next one came along. That, coupled with knowing I'd have Denay to take care of on top of dealing with a baby, haunted me for most of my pregnancy, stealing my joy.
I read a book in the summer on a Godly perspective of pregnancy and childbirth that challenged me to take hold of the power of Jesus Christ within me and pray with great expectation.
So I started claiming health over my pregnancy, peace over my body and mind and a restful and easy postpartum period.
But truth be told, I doubted.
I was able to trust that the baby would be healthy, that the delivery would be safe but not matter how much I prayed and wanted to believe, I couldn't help but doubt that my newborn experience would be any different.
I wanted to play it safe and be prepared this time, so I went in to see my doctor in early September to discuss medication options for PPD. She suggested I start taking them right away to give them a chance to be working when the baby came. I decided to wait. We were going to do everything we could to rest well and hunker down and hopefully recover better this time. But deep down I had settled with the idea that I was going to need them.
But my God, is way bigger.
Last night I gave Denay the prescription that was still stuck on my fridge, and asked her to rip it up for me.
I had prayed and begged and claimed freedom and victory over depression.....and completely outside of my strength, God gave me victory.
This is simply a post to give God all the glory. To say that I am weak and He is strong.
This is a post to shed light on the seldom talked about issue of PPD.
I know that God uses medicine and doctors to bring resolve and healing, as I have needed that before. And I know that He answered my prayers for a baby that would be restful and peaceful so that we may have rest.
I know that He is a good God, that, despite how I may feel sometimes, is always with me and will never forsake me.
Needless to say, we're doing pretty good.
I'm doing pretty good.
Denay adores her little sister and I adore them both.
God is bigger.
"For the Lord your God is living among you.
He is a mighty saviour.
He will take delight in you with gladness.
With his love, he will calm all your fears.
He will rejoice over you with joyful songs."