If I tell you I’m ok, it’s a lie

I am the mom of a child with autism. I still haven’t come to terms with the fact that this is my life. I think I want to, but I don’t know how because I’m still so angry about it. I feel like most days, there’s this illusion of “normal” because we’ve had a lot of progress with Norah, and so things feel manageable and mundane enough that I actually believe it. Then, one day, it all falls apart. The charade is exposed. Norah has an off day or series of days turning into weeks and I realize my life isn’t normal and how different Norah is compared to typical children is brought into focus. It’s like a one-two punch to the gut. That first hit, the reality check that stuns you, and second takes your breath away. And it’s hard because in those “ordinary” moments, I forget: the pain, the resentment, bitterness and anger; all cleverly hidden behind smoke and mirrors. It’s really shitty, because when smoke clears, I’m still standing in the same spot. I thought I had grown. Changed a little, maybe let go of my anger just a little. No, I’m like Prometheus, tethered to a rock whose liver was eaten daily only to regenerate and then go through the same thing again. Day after day. Only, it’s my anger that tethers me me in the same place and the bitterness and resentment the eagle pecking away at me. 
I remember when I miscarried, how hard, nay, devastating it was. I had just come out of this dark season in my life. I had thought I could walk away from God, and I tried, but God, who is just and demands obedience, is also eternally steadfast, loving and merciful, pursued me. 

Where shall I go from your Spirit? Or where shall I flee from your presence? If I ascend to heaven, you are there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me. If I say, “Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,” even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you. – Psalm 139:7-12

God had brought me out of the wilderness and I had hope. Then I miscarried, and that hope carried me. So much so, that I named the child I lost Hope. I remember going through it though, recalling “advice” that had been given to me anytime I was struggling with something. Advice I’d given others. “Give it to God”. I’ll admit, that while that sounded freeing, I didn’t understand it. How did you give something to God? How do you let it go? How do you know if you in fact, “let go and let God”? I had prayed that a lot, only to say “amen” go about by business still dealing with it and and not handling it any better than before. It was after I miscarried and I was living moment to moment that I realized what that meant, and it was how I survived. There was no one and done, I give my crap to God and from that moment on I’m great. It was more like in one moment “God, I can’t breathe, this pain is too great”, and God’s response, “I will carry and sustain you. I will heal you”. When I had fears of another miscarriage and whether or not I could endure, His response, “I am sufficient”. 
Navigating the waters of special needs and raising a child with autism should be no different. This season of suffering should elicit the same response. Why is it so hard then? Why have I not been able, moment to moment, to approach God and depend on Him for my survival? There’s a wall. Is it because I’m angry? I’ve admitted to being angry with God. I’ll also confess, I don’t know what to do with that. How do i get through that? What do I do with it? I’ve prayed, read scripture, talked about it. This season of suffering had been especially hard. Norah is only four and the road ahead is only paved with more struggles. More therapy, more special education, biomedical therapies and the list goes on. It’s so daunting to look up from where I am and know that this is really just the beginning. We’ve only scratched the surface. 

I have mentioned before that I struggle with depression. I’m prone to it. My body seems to struggle making enough dopamine and keep it bouncing around my brain long enough to keep me stable. The stress of the last year has been unmanageable. I recognize that a chemical imbalance is just part of my problem. I know there’s a heart and sin issue too. I did get some medication, and that has helped me feel more, level headed. I’m still struggling, but I think I’m better able to start dealing with things. I don’t really know what that entails though. Despite being medicated, I’m still stressed, overwhelmed and melancholic. There’s not a pill that helps with doubt and disbelief. I keep going over things. Reminding myself about who God is. How good He is and that He is sufficient. I may not believe it today, but I will be again be confident. 

But this I call to mind, and therefore I have hope: The steadfast love of the LORD never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The LORD is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.” – Lamentations 3:21-24



Sometimes, life just seems unfair and I hate it. I hate that I even feel that way. I’m angry and I’m angry that I’m angry. I feel guilty about it. I should just be thankful. Take the hand I’ve been dealt and accept it and move on. Things could always be worse. And I know I am blessed. For as much suffering as we’ve been through, we have been given much. I’m not so blinded by anger and self pity that I don’t see how gracious God has been with us. It just really sucks to have to walk down THIS path of suffering. Parenting is hard. I both envy and hate the people that make it look easy. I see the “rose-colored” Instagram and Facebook posts. I realize people like to put their best foot forward, (I know I’m probably guilty too) but it’s just salt on the wound. I see people with more Children than me who somehow are able to pursue hobbies, run a business, beautify their homes and whatever else people are doing, and the feelings of inadequacy and honestly, jealousy are just crushing. I hate feeling that way. I hate wishing things were different. I hate when I see your Facebook posts about your conversations with your children because it hurts. I waited THREE YEARS, just to hear Norah call me mommy, how many more years before I can have a conversation with her? How long before I can ask, “Norah,how was school?” And not have her just repeat the question back to me because she does t know what I’m asking? How long before I say “I love you Norah” and she replies with “I love you mommy” instead of just repeating back to me “I love you Norah.” Everything is a fight. Every typical struggle magnified by the altered architecture of her brain. I’m exhausted. Special Pre-K program, therapies, diet modifications, vitamins and supplants, tests/lab work, and IEPs. I feel like I am constantly being thrust into the fire. I feel like I just can’t handle anymore and that makes me feel inadequate as a mother. I feel guilty because I am overwhelmed. I’m not good enough or strong enough or patient enough. I am just so burned out. People have asked me how I’m doing and in the split second it takes to respond with an I’m ok or I’m fine, I wonder, how am I suppose to even answer that? There is so much I could unload and do you really want to hear it all? I’m a mess, can’t you tell? My heart is a mess, bruised and broken and heavy. Some days are bettmer than others, but today is not one of those days. 
I am feeble and crushed; I groan because of the tumult of my heart. O Lord, all my longing is before you; my sighing is not hidden from you. My heart throbs; my strength fails me, and the light of my eyes-it also has gone from me. – Psalm 38:8-10

The end of 2016

I hoped and prayed that 2016 would be kinder and gentler than 2015, which ended with me feeling worn and like I needed to come up for air. Grady was the high point of 2015, my breathe of fresh air despite all the drama that was his birth and first few weeks of life. However, 2016 wasn’t any better. In fact, I think it has been more difficult. It’s been full of stress and anxiety. Norah’s autism diagnosis was in January. Hard to believe that it’s been a year since then. Probably because we’ve been up to our eyeballs in therapies prior to a diagnosis and now….my head hurts thinking about it. 2017 is certainly going to be just as busy if not more so. The wound still feels new though. Just when I feel like I’ve settled, the cycle of grief starts over. Maybe it’s during a particularly rough patch with Norah or despite all the gains Norah has had we see where she is still delayed. Maybe it’s seeing other parents with their typically developing children and how different Norah is that sends me over the edge again. I feel like I’m drowning. I have to keep reminding myself of the beautiful moments from this year otherwise I can’t function. I’m tired of being overwhelmed. I’m tired of being angry, because if I am totally honest, I am angry. Really angry. I am finally not in denial about it anymore. God has been gracious in casting light in that area and revealing it for what it is. I’m angry at life, at autism, at everything and everyone. Im angry at myself for being angry. I’m angry at God. I don’t want to be this way. It ruins everything. It keeps me from enjoying Norah and Grady. I’m constantly worried about Grady’s development. He seems typical now, but what if he regresses? If I let myself enjoy watching him grow, what happens if it goes away? If I hold back, maybe the pain and disappointment will be less if he does regress. I feel like I am in the lowest valley. 2016, there aren’t appropriate adjectives for you, but I am tenderly holding onto hope that 2017 will be better. I am letting go. Maybe 2017 won’t be easier, but I am praying that I might be changed. That my perspective and response would be dictated less by the gamut of my emotions and centered on God and his loving kindness. That God would take my anger away and heal my bruised and tender heart. “Behold, blessed is the one whom God reproves; therefore despise not the discipline of the Almighty. For he wounds, but he binds up; he shatters, but his hands heal.” – Job 5:17-18


It’s been a good, long while since my last post. It’s not that I get busy, or that I forget, I am just really bad about being consistent and seeing projects through to the end. I also feel like I should actually have something to write about. That being said, there has been a lot on my mind lately. This Year been heavy and hard and I think that it all finally caught up with me and has left me overwhelmed. Goodness, where to start.

First, if I’m being totally honest, other than Norah’s first birthday in January, I don’t remember much from this year that happened before May unless I look at Instagram. I know that sounds terrible, but ever since May, life has been, well, real. In May we moved. We were planning on growing our family and decided we needed that we needed a bit more space and after searching for what seemed like forever, we found a place. I love our new home. It’s certainly the newest home that we have lived in, having been built in the 50s. It’s mid-century feel suits mine and Brad’s style, our furniture looks good, and I finally have everything decorated the way I like (it only took 6 years and 9,000 pinned ideas, thanks Pinterest), not to mention when you turn down our street it feels like you left Texas and entered Southern California. The weekend after we moved in, we found out that we were pregnant! Perfect timing. The next few weeks were spent researching and planning. Our first pregnancy ended in an unwanted and unplanned but necessary cesarean due to Norah being breech, but with this baby we wanted a home birth. After lots of phone calls, I found my midwife. By the time I went in for my first appointment, I was already 11 weeks pregnant. We had an exhaustive conversation with the midwife and then it was time for our ultrasound. This was going to be the best part of my day. I remembered the first time I saw Norah on that screen and heard her hummingbird heart beating away and my heart swelled. After several moments, I knew something was wrong. I knew what was supposed to be on that screen and there was nothing there. Nothing that resembled new life, no heartbeat, no baby, nothing. Just empty space. That moment is the single, most horrible thing I have ever endured and it will be forever burned into my memory. The midwife told us that we had a blighted ovum and a missed miscarriage. Basically, we were pregnant, but the baby did not make it past implantation, however, my body continued to think that it was pregnant up until almost 9 weeks into the pregnancy. We were given some options; we could have a procedure done that would clean everything out, or wait and let my body handle it naturally. We decided to wait. Since about two weeks had lapsed since my body got the memo that there was no baby and my first ultrasound, we didn’t have to wait long. My appointment had been on a Monday and by Wednesday I was bleeding. By Sunday it was over. To date, I have never experienced anything more painful emotionally or physically than this. Grief is a force that works you over like being caught up in an undertow and every time you think you can stand, the waves crash over you again. It has taken me a long time to be able to write about this and even now, there is much that is still unsaid. A few know all the details. Looking back over the past couple of years, reading through previous blog posts, I felt as though God was preparing me for this. Everything had been so dark for so long and I was finally coming out of that dark place and clinging to the light, holding tight to Him. The One who rescues me. The One who knows me. The One who was holding me as I walked through this. If He hadn’t softened my heart when He did, I might have have turned my back on Him in this. As a result of His relentless pursuit of me, oh, how I clung to Him.

1 O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
2 So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary, beholding your power and glory.
3 Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you.
4 So I will bless you as long as I live; in your name I will lift up my hands.
5 My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
6 when I remember you upon my bed, and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
7 for you have been my help, and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
8 My soul clings to you; your right hand upholds me.

Psalm 63:1-8

I am through the wilderness, but every now and then I get caught up in the shadows of grief. I miss what I lost. But I have hope. Hope that one day I will be blessed again with a baby. Hope that one day I will see the child I lost. I know that my baby has gone home to be with my gracious Father in Heaven and that they have been made whole and perfect and new. It took several weeks, but I decided that I needed to do something that would make a record of the life that so briefly existed here on earth, something that would validate it, and give me some measure of closure. So, I have a little box with flowers, my positive pregnancy test, a copy of the ultrasound, even though baby was gone long before then, and a name: Hope. I never got to find out what we were having, but despite all of my grief, I was filled with Hope and that seemed a fitting name for our baby.

It’s hard to believe that just a little over four months ago we found out we lost our child. So much has happened since then. More than I can write in a single blog post. There are a few people who know all that has gone on. Those that keep up with us anyway. The past six months have been hard. I’m not exactly a private person, as hard as I try to hide and as introverted as I am, I tend to wear my heart and my emotions on my sleeve. That being said, this past year, especially the last six months, I have felt like I have navigated the waves mostly alone. Not sure if I should have done something different, been more public about everything, I feel as though I was pretty transparent through it all. It was just lonely.

I think things have finally settled a bit. Life seems to have slowed down, even amidst the hustle and bustle of the holidays. Christmas is just weeks away and we are that much closer to the end of another year. How does time pass so quickly?! I love this time of year though. I’ve been doing a lot of research lately. If you’ve been reading any of my sporadic posts, you know that I struggle with depression. Earlier in the year I decided to get off my antidepressants. It’s not that they weren’t working, they were, I even had some pleasant side effects to go along with it, can we say “aggression”? I just never intended to be on medication long term. I have nothing against medication, in fact, I am very grateful that we have the technology to help people when necessary. I was just more interested in seeing if there was a way to manage some of my symptoms, maybe even correct the problem all together by dieting and making other lifestyle changes. Well, time has this funny habit of passing rather quickly and things happen, I got caught up in life and here we are, in December. I’ve been struggling the past few weeks. I have problems with producing enough serotonin and I think that the past several months depleted what reserves I had so I have been a little depressed. I was contemplating getting back on antidepressants for a bit, at least to get me through the holidays, but Brad has been doing some research and suggested that I try some amino acid therapy. So, I am currently taking tryptophan. Yes, that’s what is in your thanksgiving turkey, but there’s not as much in that turkey as you think. Anyways, your body needs tryptophan. Your body cannot make it, so you must get it from your food. There is so much that I have learned, that I need another post to just talk about it, but, long story short, tryptophan, once in your body turns into serotonin, which I lack. Tryptophan also creates more melatonin which helps you sleep, something else I struggle with. A lot of the reading I have done suggests that tryptophan can be as effective as antidepressants in most cases and doesn’t have all the side effects. Win-win in my book. I have only been taking tryptophan for about a week, but have noticed a difference. For one, I am a lot less tense, not as blah and I can sleep!!! I’m going to give it a bit longer and then I will probably do a post devoted to tryptophan. This is probably where I should insert my disclaimer: *I am not a doctor. The information and testimonies I include are not intended and should not be construed as medical advice. If you, the reader or any other person has a medical concern, please consult with an appropriately licensed physician or healthcare worker.*

So, this is where I’m at. This year has been a struggle, but I am getting through it. I’ve grown a lot. God has been good to me, even after trials and pain I can look back and see His mercies and I’m glad I won’t be the same person going into 2015 as I was in 2014.


Sometimes I don’t know how to start these posts. I feel like lately, time just seems to pass by. We don’t really do much, but we’re busy, ALL THE TIME. Everyday life busy. Husband is super busy at work, works past six most nights. I’m busy at home. It’s always, and I mean always as in never ending mountains of laundry I can never seem to make go away, dirty dishes in the sink, meals to make, menus to plan, diapers to change, the list goes on. Plus, we are trying to figure out where to go next. When do we want anther baby? Should we stay in this house or try to find something a little bigger? Figuring out health insurance, and that’s a big one, because let’s face it, health care and insurance is a nightmare right now.

I should say, I am in no way trying to complain. I absolutely LOVE my life. I love that I get to stay home and raise Norah, I love my little family, I love that I get to do what I’ve always wanted to do, it’s hard work, but a lot of fun and so rewarding. 🙂

I think I just woke up in a funk this morning. The reality of how hard being a grown up and how challenging life is, is just really heavy this morning. Friday my mom called me to tell me that her blood work and tests came back positive and that she has breast cancer. I don’t think I’ve fully processed this yet. Shortly after she called Friday, I packed up Norah and I and headed over to my parents to spend the weekend with them. It was a good distraction. For all of us. It was as normal as it could be, but as the weekend came to a close, things seemed to pick up where they left off. Now, despite a cancer diagnosis, it seems that she has the best case scenario. The cancer was detected early, it’s slow growing and wasn’t found anywhere else. It’s just that, well, ‘cancer’ is a scary word. No matter how positive the predicted outcome is, no one wants to hear, “you have cancer.” So, I’m worried, of course. It’s also hard to see my mom go through this. She has seemed ok, but when I left to go home Sunday, I could tell she was afraid and trying to not get emotional. It’s hard knowing that in a couple of weeks, she’ll be leaving to go to a clinic out of state, where she’ll be for three weeks undergoing treatment. She’ll be out there by herself which makes it even more difficult. Dad will get to go out at some point but can’t stay the whole time due to work. I don’t like that she’ll be out there alone. I wish I could go. I wish that there was a clinic that was closer to home. The whole situation just stinks.

Today is rough. I’m a little more emotional and worried about my mom. I just want to go back to bed and not have to worry about anything. I don’t want to do today. I know, ultimately, everything will be ok, I’m just struggling, sorting through stuff and not trusting God enough with this. Hmm, that seems to be a recurrent theme lately.


These past 2 years have been hard. For the first time in a long time, I feel as though I have given up and really felt myself sink into a more selfish form of suffering, if there is such a thing, and just sat in my anger and resentment. I felt justified in my bitterness and self pity. Don’t get me wrong, my journey the past two years trough pregnancy and becoming a mother have been filled with amazement and joy, but my bitterness is always nipping at my heels.

Lately, the weight of this has become so unbearable, I feel as though I might finally sink beneath the surface. In all this, despite knowing it to be untrue, this has given me a sense of control. Control over situations, my relationships with others and how I want them to see me and ultimately, how much of God I am willing to let in. That last one. That’s the biggest lie of all; that I could actually control how much of God I get when he’s ALWAYS there and threatening to blow this wide open. He’s there, hand outstretched and all I have ever needed to do was just reach out and hold on, but every time I’ve heard him call my name, I sink beneath the surface, feeling safer and less exposed in my own darkness.  The lover of my soul is persistent. He who values me more than I could possibly imagine, who calls me beloved despite everything, has been patiently and did I mention PERSISTENTLY, pursuing and drawing near TO ME.

 I finally surface for air, reach out, my fingers just brushing His.

There’s still pain and fear. There’s a part of me that’s trying to hold on to every negative thought and feeling, as if it gives me the upper hand in this. It’s been wearing me thinner and thinner, still eating at me. Through all of this, things have been coming up, things about myself that I had so long suppressed, that I had forgotten them. Things from my past that I have not ever dealt with, things that have affected my reactions and behaviors to things in the present. These walls that I had built around myself are crumbling, letting in light and showing me just how broken and devastated I am.

There is a quote by C. S. Lewis that reads as follows:

Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of – throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.

Two and half years ago, I did think that I was just a work in progress. A ‘decent little cottage’ with ‘repairs’ (or, rather, refining points) here and there. But God wants something better. What I want is not good enough. What God wants is something magnificent and I just need to trust that He’s got it right and this is best. I want to.

I don’t think that I have ever felt so timid in my faith as I do now. So uncertain.

The more God has pressed into me, the more I find myself giving in to Him. Every time I have pushed, He’s pushed back, relentless. The more worn down I become, the more I feel myself being won over to Him. To be honest, I have started to feel peace in this. Finally.

This morning in worship, I very much felt a physical lightness. This weight that I have been carrying is lifting. I felt genuine joy this morning, for the first time in a while, I have found comfort in God.

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger

Moving Forward

In my last post, I was approaching the one week mark since getting help for my depression. Last Thursday, I had a follow up appointment with my midwife to go over the results from my blood work and to talk about how I was doing on my antidepressant. We started off by updating her about how the past week had been. Everything was positive. I explained to her that I felt different after the first dose and how I had not expected to feel anything that soon. She seemed surprised too as it normally takes a few weeks to get any results, but that my brain must have really been needing the dopamine. I was happier, and so much slower to anger. I felt more cheerful and not quite so blah. In all actuality, I was beginning to feel like a different person, or rather, more like my old self. I was starting to feel human again.

My blood work all came back normal as can be, which is both disappointing and a relief. Disappointing, because I was hoping to have some more answers into why I had felt the way that I had for so long, but I was relieved that there was  nothing else wrong. My thyroid, cortisol, everything was as normal as can be. The only thing that was ‘off’ was that I had a vitamin D deficiency, but that’s as exciting as it got. So, while I may not have gotten the ‘answers’ that I hoped for, all in all, the appointment was positive. She did say that my vitamin D deficiency could be contributing to some of my symptoms, like my fatigue, sleeplessness, poor concentration, and even my depression itself. Since I had an improvement in some areas and not others, she decided to increase my dose of the Wellbutrin (antidepressant). She also prescribed Vitamin D2, 50,000 units per week! On top of that, I am taking 1000-2000 mg of DHA/EPA and Omega 3’s. So LOTS of vitamin D. The point of this was to get my vitamin D levels up where they needed to be, but to also help my body start producing more on its own as well.

My midwife also encouraged me to see our homeopathic doctor as well and even start seeing my chiropractor. She said that even though all of my blood work came back normal and I don’t officially have a diagnosis, based on Western Medicine, all of my symptoms are congruent with Hypothyroidism and Adrenal Fatigue, and would most likely benefit treating those with alternative medicine. I haven’t done this yet, but I intend to. She also didn’t want to get hung up on being depressed, so she didn’t even give me a diagnosis of ‘depression’. I am appreciative of that, although, if that is what this is, than so be it. I am not defined by it.

So today marks two weeks. Two whole weeks of feeling human again, two weeks of a happier me, and two weeks of me actually giving a darn! The first couple of days were rough, with the new dosage; I felt pretty crummy with headaches and nausea, but I am so grateful that I am feeling more and more like me every day! I am looking forward to more good days!


So tomorrow will mark one week since I got medical help fory depression. Tomorrow I go in again and will get the results from my blood work. I’m not anxious but I am. Well, maybe anxious isn’t the right word, but I am nervous.  Normally when you get blood work back you are hoping for everything to be normal and that everything checks out. I on the other hand, am hoping that they find something that will give us some insight in to my depression. I think I would be discouraged if everything came back normal and I was just ‘depressed’ with no real answers. 
I will also discuss my medication with my midwife. Tomorrow also marks a week that I have been on antidepressants. So far I have had a positive experience. I am definitely feeling better. My stress is going down, I am slower to anger, I am feeling happier and starting to enjoy things again. I am still struggling with sleep. I can lay in bed for hours before falling asleep and with a baby that still wakes frequently in the night, this is very hard. I also still have a really hard time focusing. I seem to have moments that ‘disappear’. For example, I can be having a conversation with someone and at some point in that conversation, I completely zone out to the point that I have no recollection of what was said. I see the person talking, their lips moving, but I hear nothing and don’t remember what was said, if that makes sense. Maybe that has nothing to do with depression itself, it could be that it’s just a coping mechanism I have developed over time to manage stress and anxiety, but again, I don’t know. And while I am am slower to anger, when I finally do hit that breaking point, there’s not a lot of variation in the emotion, it’s still pretty intense. All things that I will bring up tomorrow. 
I have been sharing my experience and struggle with depression this past week and I think there’s a lot of ‘baggage’ that comes with depression. People don’t really talk about depression, or at least very few do. People seem much more willing to talk about cancer or some other sickness than discuss ‘mental illness’. Maybe I just haven’t known enough people who have had depression, but I am finding it encouraging to share my struggle with it. First off, it’s sort of therapeutic. But it also lets people know how they can pray for me, they can ask me how I’m doing, but be specific so that I am actually forced to give a real answer instead of “I’m fine.” I think being open to sharing helps others too. If my being brave and saying, “I’m depressed” gives someone else the courage to seek help, then that’s a great thing! Being depressed sucks, being depressed and alone really sucks. I was alone in my struggle for a long time, it wasn’t good and I certainly didn’t benefit from it. 
Tonight I shared with my City Group. It wasn’t hard to share content wise, oh but how I hate being the center of attention! I’m proud of myself though. I told everyone there and got through it with out crying too much. And I was able to explain it and make sense! Normally I get so nervous I think I end up babbling. I am so grateful for the people that God has placed in my life. I have some amazing friends. It was encouraging to be able to share and then be prayed for and know that these people love and support me. I’m so very grateful. 
Anyways, this was supposed to just be a quick update and it’s become a lot longer than I planned. Tomorrow I will know more and then I can give a more detailed update. Until then, thank you to everyone who has reached out. It has meant a lot to have your support and encouragement. 


How does one even begin a post like this? Is there really a way to gently ease into the subject or some joke or metaphor to make it less heavy? Probably not.

On July 27, (I know, specific right?) I was in Houston visiting with a friend before heading off to a beach vacation with family, when I had finally got enough courage to tell her that I had been “feeling” off. I say “feeling” because I really wasn’t feeling much of anything these days, except for maybe, guilt, apathy, anger and an extremely overwhelming emptiness. After a long conversation and contemplating what could possibly be wrong, I ventured down the road of depression.

Truth be told, this wasn’t something that had recently developed. I had been feeling this way, with gradual intensity, for the last 10-12 years. I had always wondered if I was suffering from depression, but would quickly banish those thoughts from my brain as I did not want to have the label “depressed” attached to me. I had only negative associations with the word and thought that surely I would be judged if I had spoken up. So, I brushed it off as just needing to try harder and make my own happiness. Naturally, I tend to lean more towards being an introvert, so I used that as my scapegoat with excuses like, “I’m just not good at being social”, “I am not good at small talk”, to even exaggerating on the good qualities that I already possessed, like being a good listener.

Of course, in the beginning, I didn’t always feel depressed. I would have days, maybe weeks, where I felt happy, creative and energized. The more time that went by, the fewer good days there were. I started to lose interest in the things that I loved and was so passionate about.

Fast forward a few years. In 2009 I got married. This was an exciting and VERY much anticipated event for me. I had been dating my husband for six years before he proposed, so I was ready. The morning of my big day that I had been waiting for so long for, was here! I remember sitting down to breakfast with my parents and them asking if I was nervous or excited. I was excited, I had wanted this day more than anything, but it wasn’t the exhilarating excitement I was expecting. I have a lot of moments like this. They have increased in length over time.

Eventually, it got to the point to where I needed to force, and over compensate for my lack of happiness or excitement. I didn’t want people to think that I didn’t care or that I was not happy for them. I was…….but, I wasn’t. Depression is a strange thing. Depression doesn’t always mean that you feel sad, but empty. I certainly felt this. Sometimes, I think that I mistook my lack of sympathy and emotion for an “I don’t give a crap” attitude. I thought that I was “tough” or “thick skinned”. Truth was, I was neither one of those. I was so weak. I constantly felt scrutinized and judged. I was racked with guilt and self loathing and eventually saw myself unworthy of happiness. I started to have paranoia, I feared that my husband, then boyfriend, was cheating and that at any moment he would break up with me. I began to read in between the lines of conversations I had with people, assuming that they meant something other than what they said, and felt like I deserved their scrutiny and judgement. Depression can really distort your perspective and cloud your judgement.

So, now I have been married for four years, and we recently welcomed a daughter. Another excuse that I told myself was that maybe I am just a super mellow person, and I just don’t excite easily, but surely a life changing event like finding out your pregnant would cause some over the top excitement. Nope. I WAS happy. I couldn’t believe it, but I was happy that I was expecting. Again, the excitement that I had hoped to feel, just wasn’t there. I was disappointed, sad that I couldn’t feel the joy that I was sure everyone felt. Now, I didn’t have the easiest pregnancy. I was sick for almost all of it. It was either morning sickness, the stomach bug or a staph infection. I felt like crap the whole time, and then had several stressful incidents throughout the pregnancy concerning her development and testing for chromosomal abnormalities to finding out that she was breech a week and a half from my due date and scheduling a cesarean days later. It was devastating. Everything that I had been planning for, hoping for some fluctuation in emotion and a sense of empowerment had been stripped away.

So, now, I have my beautiful baby at home and we are adjusting to a life as a family of three. I am not only learning the ropes of caring for a newborn, but am recovering from surgery, which was not easy. I got an infection due to an allergic reaction that I had to my sutures and was in pain for a couple months. Having a new baby is hard. Having a new baby and having the baby blues is really hard. During my pregnancy, I wondered if I would have the baby blues or postpartum depression. I wondered deep down if I was depressed, and felt like I might be predisposed to them. While I was convinced that I was suffering PPD, for reasons I had never told anyone, people assured me that it was just the baby blues and that it was normal and a common thing. I left it at that.

My daughter is now six months old, and the “blues” have not gone away. In fact they are worse than they have ever been. I had no joy, no happiness. I was angry and impatient all the time. My bad days were terrible and my “good days” were just less so. I had bad days and blah days.

Three weeks ago I decided that I had to say something. I had been having an exceptionally hard time. I was not necessarily suicidal, but was having thoughts of my own death. Since I obviously couldn’t feel happy, I thought that maybe I didn’t deserve to feel happy. Maybe everything and everyone would be better off if I was just not here. I was angry all the time. I was always in a bad mood and short with my husband. I was impatient with my child, and my anxiety was at an all time high. I didn’t want to be around people. I just wanted to be alone. But I didn’t. I was broken over the fact that I just didn’t have joy in anything. I didn’t even enjoy my child! This broke my heart, but I just couldn’t get out from under the dark cloud that has followed me for so long. So I spoke to a friend, I spoke to my husband and I spoke to my mom. I think that I am depressed. I have no idea who I am anymore, the person that I was has seemed to disappear. I don’t like myself and I don’t want to feel like this anymore. Something is wrong with me. I shouldn’t feel this empty.

So, here I am. I spoke to my midwife on August 8. Explained to her everything, relived moments over the past 10-12 years that made me pause and wonder about depression. I am depressed. I have realized that this is not something that I should be ashamed of. While depression by no means, defines me, it is a part of me. Treatment, generally, is medication, but does not have to be forever, which is positive. I had some bloodwork done and I am currently waiting for results. My midwife thinks that possibly, I may have a dopamine deficiency which would explain my lows and mediums but not “highs” or enjoyment. She is checking for other things as well, like my thyroid and cortisol levels. I also only have one kidney and one adrenal gland which could be problematic as well. The one adrenal gland that I have could be over compensating creating an imbalance. Thursday I find out the results and hopefully will have a bit more insight into my depression. Thursday will also be a week that I have been on medication to hopefully help my brain keep what dopamine I do have, circulating long enough to use it. Instantly, I seemed to feel better. I was lighter. I was not as impatient and angry. The more days that I am on it, the better I feel. By no means am I rainbows and sunshine, but I am seeing more and more of my old self each day.

I know that this is a terribly long post, and if you have made it all the way through, then thank you. I do not seek pity or special treatment, I am not ill. I have held all of this in for so long, that a post like this was a long time coming. I was not prescribed therapy, but in a sense, sharing is therapy. Depression is not a skeleton in the closet, you don’t have to hide it or be ashamed of it. I should have brought this up a long time ago though. If by chance, there is anyone who reads this, and suspects that maybe, the person you are now is not who you REALLY are, and there is a chance you are depressed, there is no shame in seeking help. It is OK to not be OK, but you don’t have to let it be your identity.


So, I know that in my last post I had said that I wasn’t going to go so long before posting again…well, here I am THREE MONTHS LATER, before writing my next post. It doesn’t seem like it has been three months. Time kind of passes by in a blur when you have a newborn. Before I introduce her, I should probably play catch up. In my last post, I had learned that Norah was breech and that this had come as a shock, considering that I was 38.5 weeks pregnant! How does that slip by?! Anyways, I had been trying everything possible to get little miss to flip, with no luck. I was going to the chiropractor everyday, doing everything from the Spinning Babies website and even attempted an External Cephalic Version (ECV). Nothing ended up being successful and Norah was still breech and we needed a cesarean, which was really hard for me, and there are days that are still hard and I feel like something was wrong with me that made Norah not want to flip. I know that this is not the case and truly, breech positions are just another variation of normal. I do hope however, that baby #2 will be a VBAC and at home! I really want my natural, unmedicated birth!!

I am not saying that because I had a surgical birth that I had a negative experience. On the contrary, my experience was amazing. If anyone reading this is in a similar situation and a surgical birth is your only option, PLEASE request a Gentle Cesarean! (Also called Natural Cesarean, mother-Baby friendly cesarean.) Please see the video at the end of the post for an explanation. Despite having major surgery in order to meet my daughter, I can honestly say that my experience was so so good. Terrifying, but good. The worst part is probably the spinal block. It was moderately uncomfortable just really just scary to think that they are putting a needle in your spine and that you can’t feel your body from about the chest down. Once that is done, the rest isn’t too bad. You can’t see anything because of the sheet that is up and you can’t hear anything except the occasional suctioning and all the equipment. the surgery itself is actually, in most cases pretty quick. I my case, Norah was not in the best position and was actually kind of stuck. The doctor had to work pretty hard to get my little girl out. As soon as she was out, they put her on my chest, skin to skin. Normally, you don’t get to meet your baby for a while after they are born. This was the single most greatest moment of my life. Everything just melted away at that moment and all that mattered was the little girl on my chest. She was perfectly content to be there too. In fact, she wiggled her way all the way up to snuggle right at my neck and anytime anyone tried to mess with her she let them know that she was not happy about it. She knew who her mama was!! Getting to go skin to skin so soon, we were able to attempt to breastfeed, which Norah was a champ at and latched on and began nursing with in 20 minutes of being born!!! I am such a proud mama. Everything from the moment she was born to the time they took us back to the room is sort of a blur, but she did stay on my chest the whole time, minus a brief moment where her daddy held her so that they could detach me from all the machines and move me off the operating table. She wasn’t weighed, measured or anything until we got back to labor and delivery and then later that night she got her first bath. I really couldn’t have asked for a better experience and the hospital staff was amazing as well. There is so much more, but it would take a really long post to write it all down and that would take a really long time. This post is taking me two days to write as it is.

Fast forward three months…

Norah is growing like a weed! I think that she is going to be very strong willed and determined. She is ready to move and be mobile and has to have constant stimulation when she is awake. I think that we have a smarty pants on our hand. She is so observant and curious too. More than any three month old I have ever seen! She is a lot of fun but being a mommy is hard work too. I am glad that I get to stay home with her.

This past week, I started working from home. So far it is proving to be challenging. Mainly because Norah has also decided that she would fight every single nap. i can get her to fall asleep in my arms, but the moment that I put her down, it’s over. She wakes up and after much effort, I have to pick her back up to soothe her back down and get her to sleep. We will see though. I am trying to keep everything a organic and free as possible, so I don’t have my day regimented and Norah on a schedule. She gets fed on demand and is usually awake for 2-3 hours and then naps for 2-3 hours. That’s about all the scheduling that I am doing. I feel this would be easier to work with and to just get up and go when needed. I am going to give this work at home mom thing a go, but I don’t know how long it will last, but i am going to give it my best effort.

Being a mommy is very challenging and very demanding. While, I have loved being a mommy, it hasn’t been easy. I suffered from baby blues after she was born, and while she is not a difficult baby, she is not the easiest. Also, we just overcame hip dysplasia too. Poor thing had to wear a harness for about 14 hours a day because her hip joints were not completely formed. Although, I think that was more difficult for mommy and daddy than for Norah. Being a mom also teaches you a lot about yourself too. I didn’t think that I was as impatient and ungraceful as I am until Norah was here. There are days where I am so frustrated because Norah is unhappy and crying and won’t sleep and I can’t do anything to make it better or control the situation. While I thought that I was a patient person, I am realizing that I need a lot more work in that area and that I myself need as much grace as I need to give. There are days where I feel like the most awful mommy in the world and a terrible person. This struggle has been even more difficult considering that I am alone almost all the time, and haven’t had much social time with other mama’s who have been through this already. So, I have struggled alone. I am trying to spend more time in prayer and in scripture, because I have found the most peace and comfort there. I think that there are still days where I feel like I am in survival mode, but I am getting better.

Well, this post has gotten really long and I feel like I have repeated myself a lot, so I think that I am going to end it here. Please check out the link to the video on gentle cesareans below!

Gentle Cesarean