Depression, I Will Fight You.

After a number of conversations with other new and seasoned moms, I feel compelled to share an update on my struggle with Postpartum Depression.  I don't know at what point it just becomes depression, my baby is now 16 months old, but I feel more culturally accepted when adding the Postpartum in front. Let the honesty begin.

I have been on various medications and dosages since being diagnosed almost a year ago but have yet to feel a significant level of improvement.  I feel a bit like a sponge. One that has been sitting, dry and shrunken on the side of a sink full of responsibilities. When necessary I fill myself up with enough soap and water to get everything where it needs to be and then I am squeezed, laid to rest for the night, hoping I'll wake up fuller than the day before but instead I wince at the sunlight when it dawns on me.  I may be even more tired and worn than the day before. Sucked dry.

This is depression for a mom who is blessed and plagued with intense stubbornness.  Fighting an exhausting battle with the demon who wishes to coax me face-down on the carpet in defeat before breakfast.

Some days are good, when my under-medicated brain decides to coat itself in suitable chemicals--the kinds that get you dressed and to the grocery store, or on special occasions actually let me plan ahead and do an activity with my children.  But when circumstances turn slightly south of pleasant, those chemicals apparently call in sick and the understudies major in roles like Deceitful Liar and Near-Comatose.

I am an introvert. The kind that is energized by people who know me but relishes peace and quiet from time to time.  I am not gifted with words when they are coming straight from my mouth and would rather pull my own teeth out than speak in front of a group of people. I am not gifted in evangelism. But, ironically I have never been shy of full disclosure and pray that that can be my offering today.

In as simple words as I can manage, I would not be able to do even the bare minimum on a bad day without the love, strength and freedom that comes from Jesus. I am stubborn, sure, and I fight hard to be the mom and woman I know God designed me to be, not the one I feel like being when I wake up in the morning, but I thank God every day for making me this way and giving me the motivation to fight for a better life for my family.  Knowing his love for me has already won this battle, that this life is fleeting, the precious and the destructive parts of it, and that he loves me and holds me up even on the days when my only acknowledgement of Him goes something like, "Sorry I screwed up the day you had planned"--these truths I force into the forefront to get me through the darkest days.

The days I think I was never meant to be a parent. The days I think maybe I'll just put my kids in front of the TV and drive to Starbucks.  And then maybe down to Mexico.

I don't want my kids to have to grow up with a parent suffering from depression, but they do. That part is already done and though I'm sure I will mess them up in my own unique ways, I also pray that they will see that they need Jesus, just as mommy needs Him. I pray on the days when Capable Mommy is absent that they would find truth in the love that their God has for them and cling to it. I pray that they would learn to shed expectations of perfection and instead love wholly and extravagantly.

I am firmly and increasingly grateful for and overwhelmed by God's gentle care for me as a mother. I have also become keenly aware that my struggle is not unique! I don't know why I expected motherhood to be blissful, I've read Genesis and feel the curse. The world is in decay, my house will always get dusty right after I clean it, my kids will continue to demand more of me and my arms always tire just before everything is done. 

Thankfully, on the days when I can remember, there is a truth to be spoken above the roar of child's play when I'd rather be sleeping and amidst the haze of days shrouded in defeat.  Jesus died so that I could live abundantly in this, be freed from this, and give Him thanks in this.

Incase it isn't clear, I'm not the kind of mom you'd want to pin. We do an art project maybe once every six months and most of our outings involve a shopping cart. Im not even sure we own glue and I definitely have no plans to homeschool my children (they would probably run away if I mentioned it). But, I love my kids and I am so grateful for the ways they spur me on to be a better woman and a more raw and realistic version of my imperfect self. Depression, in a word, devours, but I hope in my life-giving Lord. And eat a lot of Oreos.