A season....
Life is full of seasons...
Winter, spring, summer and fall...
Childhood, teenage years and adulthood...
and about a million others lived within those all....
I am in a season.
A season that has placed me where I would rather not be.
With the gift of four children, I expected some chaos...some exhaustion...
I never imagined what my life has become.
Exhausted.
Tired.
Insecure.
Disorganized.
I can honestly say that most moments that have happened since our latest sweetie was born, I remember close to none of them.
Our baby cried. And not like a baby cries....but cried constantly. For at least 20 hours a day.....he cried. Being the mother of Parklen, I was worried. I thought for sure he was sick or something terrible was happening.... The doctor assured me.... colic.
He had colic.
I don't know what you know about colic...but it was designed by the devil...to attack a mother and family while they are vulnerable... expecting the sweet sensation of a newborn baby...and instead punching them square in the nose with a heaping helping of screaming insanity. It. Is. Tough. A beautiful baby in your arms..beautiful....but the pained cries don't stop. His crying spilled over onto everyone in our house. The kids, Devan....and me. We all walked on eggshells each day just praying that it would be the last day of screaming.....
On the day that marked 7 months and 1 day...our beautiful baby boy woke up and smiled... and that was the end of that.
In the midst of the months of screaming...I somewhat lost my mind. I slept just over 1 hour a night...and almost zero hours during the day. I began to sink under the weight of depression. The exhaustion...the pain of a terrible birth, the feelings of failure because I could not make my baby happy. It wasn't the food, or the temperature, or clothes or the position that we held him...it was nothing that we could do...we tried everything.
The wives tales..
The doctors advice...
Over the counter solutions..
Natural ones...
The inability to calm a baby..your baby....or soothe their tired cries...
The feeling of complete and utter helplessness is not one that I am unacquainted with...Parklen has given me plenty of practice with that. But, somehow....I lost control of all things. Physical, mental...emotional...
The postpartum depression began to sink its claws in deeper...
causing feelings so terrible and helpless...
The added pressures of being Parklen's mom,
and Paysen's mom,
and Phinlynn's...
The extra daily things.
The end of elementary school for one,
the beginning for another..
The Denver trips and failed surgeries...
The constant worries for Parklen's future and his health...
The nursing difficulties.
The realization that I couldn't be much to anyone in my state....
not a friend, or companion in any way...
The everything.
One day when my baby looked up at me and smiled, I realized how hard it was to smile back. How difficult it was to gather myself in a way to exude the joy that he brought me. Because no amount of sleeplessness and stress could erase that joy....and yet, it was hard to show...and I realized that my circumstances had swallowed me whole....or maybe not whole...but bite by bite and bit by bit.
I'm working daily, through prayer and through reading the word that I know is truth....
and the comfort for me comes in the whispers that say, "this is only a season."
A season marked with withering leaves...
and bitter cold..
A season that requires the extra heavy coat of faith and the insulated gloves of friendship.
Heavy boots to step in the deep... And the scarf of protection from what others think...
A season that I cannot travel alone...
or dare to even try.
Ive spent so many difficult days in the past decade hiding and living through my own troubles...putting up a wall that would keep people from me. Letting just a fraction of my pain show to the world...it was safer there.
If I attempted to do that now, I would not survive.
There isn't an ounce of exaggeration in my words.
The past 9 months have been the toughest of my life.
But on this day, I laid my baby to bed, and as I looked down at him I felt so thankful.
Because I'm here...and alive....and despite all of my shortcomings...this baby boy would choose me over anyone. God has allowed him to see the parts of his mom..... that lately.....even I can't. He's allowed my baby to love me, even when I haven't loved myself.
The struggle isn't over...I'm wading through the muddy waters of my own health right now...and having to pay attention to me, isn't something I am good at. I can keep a kid alive...I can fight with doctors and nurses and pray for my babies until my knees are numb... But taking care of myself doesn't come as easy. The other day I was praying and the thought hit me in the face...how can I trust God unconditionally with the lives of my children....believing that He loves them and cares deeply for them...trusting that His hand is always upon them... But I don't believe the same for myself?
Of course He does.
Of course He does.
Living in this world....where hardships are real...and often continuous....its evident to me, I could not go on without God. Without His continuous love, and grace....without the knowledge that no matter my failures...He loves me the same.
In this frigid season...I am thankful for all that is keeping me warm....The coat...the gloves, the boots and scarf... each article playing its part to help me through...until the sun within me shines again...I know its near...the thaw.
The defrosting of my heartache...
until then,
I rest in the comfort of my savior...
and that's enough..
Winter, spring, summer and fall...
Childhood, teenage years and adulthood...
and about a million others lived within those all....
I am in a season.
A season that has placed me where I would rather not be.
With the gift of four children, I expected some chaos...some exhaustion...
I never imagined what my life has become.
Exhausted.
Tired.
Insecure.
Disorganized.
I can honestly say that most moments that have happened since our latest sweetie was born, I remember close to none of them.
Our baby cried. And not like a baby cries....but cried constantly. For at least 20 hours a day.....he cried. Being the mother of Parklen, I was worried. I thought for sure he was sick or something terrible was happening.... The doctor assured me.... colic.
I don't know what you know about colic...but it was designed by the devil...to attack a mother and family while they are vulnerable... expecting the sweet sensation of a newborn baby...and instead punching them square in the nose with a heaping helping of screaming insanity. It. Is. Tough. A beautiful baby in your arms..beautiful....but the pained cries don't stop. His crying spilled over onto everyone in our house. The kids, Devan....and me. We all walked on eggshells each day just praying that it would be the last day of screaming.....
On the day that marked 7 months and 1 day...our beautiful baby boy woke up and smiled... and that was the end of that.
In the midst of the months of screaming...I somewhat lost my mind. I slept just over 1 hour a night...and almost zero hours during the day. I began to sink under the weight of depression. The exhaustion...the pain of a terrible birth, the feelings of failure because I could not make my baby happy. It wasn't the food, or the temperature, or clothes or the position that we held him...it was nothing that we could do...we tried everything.
The wives tales..
The doctors advice...
Over the counter solutions..
Natural ones...
The inability to calm a baby..your baby....or soothe their tired cries...
The feeling of complete and utter helplessness is not one that I am unacquainted with...Parklen has given me plenty of practice with that. But, somehow....I lost control of all things. Physical, mental...emotional...
The postpartum depression began to sink its claws in deeper...
causing feelings so terrible and helpless...
The added pressures of being Parklen's mom,
and Paysen's mom,
and Phinlynn's...
The extra daily things.
The end of elementary school for one,
the beginning for another..
The Denver trips and failed surgeries...
The constant worries for Parklen's future and his health...
The nursing difficulties.
The realization that I couldn't be much to anyone in my state....
not a friend, or companion in any way...
The everything.
One day when my baby looked up at me and smiled, I realized how hard it was to smile back. How difficult it was to gather myself in a way to exude the joy that he brought me. Because no amount of sleeplessness and stress could erase that joy....and yet, it was hard to show...and I realized that my circumstances had swallowed me whole....or maybe not whole...but bite by bite and bit by bit.
I'm working daily, through prayer and through reading the word that I know is truth....
and the comfort for me comes in the whispers that say, "this is only a season."
A season marked with withering leaves...
and bitter cold..
A season that requires the extra heavy coat of faith and the insulated gloves of friendship.
Heavy boots to step in the deep... And the scarf of protection from what others think...
A season that I cannot travel alone...
or dare to even try.
Ive spent so many difficult days in the past decade hiding and living through my own troubles...putting up a wall that would keep people from me. Letting just a fraction of my pain show to the world...it was safer there.
If I attempted to do that now, I would not survive.
There isn't an ounce of exaggeration in my words.
The past 9 months have been the toughest of my life.
But on this day, I laid my baby to bed, and as I looked down at him I felt so thankful.
Because I'm here...and alive....and despite all of my shortcomings...this baby boy would choose me over anyone. God has allowed him to see the parts of his mom..... that lately.....even I can't. He's allowed my baby to love me, even when I haven't loved myself.
The struggle isn't over...I'm wading through the muddy waters of my own health right now...and having to pay attention to me, isn't something I am good at. I can keep a kid alive...I can fight with doctors and nurses and pray for my babies until my knees are numb... But taking care of myself doesn't come as easy. The other day I was praying and the thought hit me in the face...how can I trust God unconditionally with the lives of my children....believing that He loves them and cares deeply for them...trusting that His hand is always upon them... But I don't believe the same for myself?
Of course He does.
Of course He does.
Living in this world....where hardships are real...and often continuous....its evident to me, I could not go on without God. Without His continuous love, and grace....without the knowledge that no matter my failures...He loves me the same.
In this frigid season...I am thankful for all that is keeping me warm....The coat...the gloves, the boots and scarf... each article playing its part to help me through...until the sun within me shines again...I know its near...the thaw.
The defrosting of my heartache...
until then,
I rest in the comfort of my savior...
and that's enough..
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