Baby Boone Beginnings (I love alliteration.)

I was so terrified of my little baby. How could something so small create so much fear within me?

I’ve intended to post so many more times than I have. I definitely wanted to have a well thought-out and well written post about having Molly. It was going to be so inspirational! But immense fear and total sleep deprivation rendered me a wreck of a human being. People often compare themselves to a zombie when explaining feelings of exhaustion, but I didn’t know what that actually felt like until coming home from the hospital. During the weeks following Molly’s birth, I knew I was alive but I felt completely dead. Fear, frustration, anxiety, exhaustion, disappointment, and sadness consumed me. My friends had warned me of the negative feelings that come along with having a baby. Don’t get me wrong; I felt happy and relieved and maybe even a little elated, but the good feelings just didn’t outweigh the bad.

The hospital experience was long and drawn out. That sure didn’t help the sleepless nights at home that would follow. Many pregnancy resources suggest to have a birth plan but to remain flexible because there’s no telling what’s going to happen. I didn’t even bother coming up with a birth plan. I figured that’s what the midwives were for. Well, I’m sure glad I didn’t waste my time! Five full days in the hospital is definitely not what we would have planned. The multiple methods of induction—with many of the tries failing—would have also not been a part of the plan. I was unprepared for the immediate and excruciating contractions on the first day, severe back pain, the shockingly messy breaking of my water, and every other uncomfortable, disgusting occurrence. I quickly learned that privacy and modesty do not exist when it comes to child birth.

Unfortunately, my body just wasn’t ready to have Molly. I don’t think we made the wrong decision about the induction. She was a week overdue, and we tried everything to induce. We could have kept trying on that last day, but then we would have risked an emergency C-section. We scheduled a normal C-section, and Molly arrived 30 minutes later. Because of all the wonderful drugs, I had the most difficult time staying awake as I met Molly for the first time and tried to feed her. Dave had to hold her for the first hour or two while I slept. That overwhelming feeling of exhaustion at the very beginning would be a great introduction to the first three months of my new life.

Molly is now four and a half months old. What I feel when I look at her is completely different than what I felt looking at my week-old baby. It’s not difficult to recall my thoughts and feelings in that first month. But, wow! It feels so long ago. Four months in my “normal” life would fly by, and despite what people say, these first four months have been LONG. Nothing about it has flown by. Waking up with Molly at night feels like a lifetime ago. I remember by stomach hurting from anxiety every time she woke up—day and night—and every time I had to feed her. She never learned to latch properly. After feeding her with a syringe for a week, we decided to give her a bottle. Never having nursed before, this caused me great fear and gave me a sense of failure. It was so frustrating. Therefore, sadly, I wasn’t excited about my new little baby. And my lack of excitement made me feel like a bad mother; I was worried that Molly and I would not be able to bond with one another.

Molly woke twice during the night for only a few days. After that, she would wake up once. I had the opportunity to sleep for four hours at a time. Because Molly was being fed with a bottle, there were many nights that Dave offered to feed her so that I could get enough rest. However, just because I had the opportunity to sleep does not mean that I was able to. Before I fell asleep each night and every time I woke up, I was so nervous that Molly would wake up and need fed. I was unable to fall back asleep; I lay there for hours dreading the moment she began to cry, even when she never did.

The sleep deprivation was almost unbearable. My lack of energy led to many disagreements with Dave and an overall feeling of helplessness (even though Dave helped me a LOT). I couldn’t help but wonder why we had decided to have a baby. I grieved for a life lost—an easy, selfish, and boring life. (Before Molly, I was actually tired of being so bored that I decided it was time to share my life and have a baby!) When Dave was at work and I was at home alone with Molly, I was bored from spending time with her when she was awake. Ugh! I hate that those were my thoughts. I still feel somewhat guilty about it. I shouldn’t tell people that that was actually going through my mind, but here I am writing about it for all the world to see.

If someone is experiencing the same feelings and happens to stumble across this post, may she feel encouraged by these sad, hopeless words. Because it doesn’t end here! Thank God for friends who were totally honest with me about how they felt after having a baby. Some said they felt this way for six weeks, some for three months. A couple of people even admitted to me that they disliked the whole first year. It was encouraging because I know these people where they are now—happy and content, madly in love with their children. Everyone told me it was just a season, just a phase. It truly is hard to believe when you’re in the middle of it. It feels like the phase will never end, and then it does.

It’s incredible how closely linked a person’s physical life and spiritual life are. I felt like I was dying physically and spiritually. I realized that as bad as I felt, I shouldn’t have such a negative attitude about it. For a while, I justified my attitude and believed that the sleep deprivation and pregnancy hormones gave me an excuse to be completely negative. I acted angry with God as I begged Him continuously to give me rest. I was a bit frightened that I was responding so poorly to having a baby, not knowing what other extreme circumstances could take place in my future. I remember the time and place when God revealed to me the seriousness of my attitude and that while He welcomes my honest thoughts, it is not His will for me to become a slave to them.

God kept reminding me of the Scripture that I stumbled upon while in the hospital waiting for Molly.

Therefore, in order to keep me from becoming conceited, I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger of Satan, to torment me.  Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me.  But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.  – 2 Corinthians 12:7b-10

I had cried when friends came to visit, when talking to my mom on the phone, when people at church asked how I was doing, at my doctor’s appointments, at Molly’s doctor’s appointments, and when I couldn’t fall asleep at night. I was a complete mess. After medication had been suggested to me, Dave and I made the decision together that that was not what I needed because post-partum depression wasn’t what I had (and my doctor agreed with me). I believe it was mostly sleep deprivation with a little hormonal craziness. Thanks be to God; because of prayer, our commitment to the Baby Wise approach (based on the book On Becoming Baby Wise by Ezzo and Bucknam [Don’t listen to the criticism about this approach. It worked for us and for the 15+ families we know who used it. Their grown children aren’t scarred. Molly sleeps through the night. We sleep. I feel like I’ve returned from the dead, and now I can actually enjoy my baby. That’s what matters]), Bible reading, and exercise, I am alive again!

Conclusion:

It does feel weird, though, to think back to those first weeks and picture that little wrinkly baby sitting in her bouncy chair in her dark bedroom with the glow of the nightlight as I lay on the futon after feeding her, waiting for her crying to end so that I could try to fall back asleep. I was so scared, not knowing what to do. I had no previous experience with babies, and honestly, a lot about motherhood does not come naturally to me. Over time, I realized that I could put her back into her crib crying, that I could sleep in my own bed, and that she would learn to “self-soothe” (a technique also highly criticized in the mommy-blog world. I’ve been amazed by how hateful, critical, and accusatory moms can be online!). After two and a half months and knowing that Molly no longer needed to be fed at night, we implemented the Dr. Ferber method of sleep training. It’s a time progression method to allow a baby to cry until she falls back to sleep. I was amazed by how well it worked. It took us about seven days of an average of about 5 minutes of crying, which is more days than most babies! Now when Molly wakes up at night, she can fall back asleep without crying.

I also learned to accept that Molly couldn’t latch and I gave up trying. I embraced my decision to pump exclusively and told myself that pumping seven times a day was normal. I don’t think it would be wrong to feed my baby formula. I really considered that option and may choose it in the future, but for now, I’m at peace with pumping. I’m down to five pumps a day and it’s working well for us.

At six weeks, Molly began to smile, and since then, she’s developed quite a personality. Spending time with her and playing is now fun for me. Feeding her is satisfying. Changing her diaper is hilarious. Putting her sad little face down for a nap isn’t [always] heartbreaking. Buckling her in the car seat isn’t torturous for either of us. Taking her for a walk in the stroller doesn’t involve screaming. Bathing her is no longer scary. Even [very quick] trips to the mall are much easier and even enjoyable.

I’m a routine-oriented person—to the extreme. My lesson planning days of teaching are over, but does that mean that I can’t have a daily homemaking plan? In the summers, I’ve always written out a schedule (by the half hour!) of what my plan is for the entire day. I’m not doing that now, though I wish I could. I realize the importance of remaining flexible. It’s hard to anticipate the heaping reward I might find in Molly’s cloth diaper (because she’s decided that every three days is a good poop schedule for her). But I have developed a predictable schedule for both her and me. Showers, exercise, cleaning, cooking, lunch, quiet times, and even reading, knitting, and checking e-mail/Facebook have a special place in my day. I’m still trying to balance and prioritize each thing, but I’ve come a long way.

The hellish months have passed, and I feel normal again. I still struggle with anxiety (and probably always will), but my emotions are much more under control. I enjoy my baby Molly. So, new moms out there, it does get better! This is only season!

Now I’m looking forward to my future as I bask in the present.

And I focus on my new year’s resolutions which include budgeting, eating healthier, exercising, and having better posture. Yikes!

Brain Exercise

I just realized something about memorizing Scripture. And the same is probably true about any kind of activity that involves a lot of brain work. After spending an uninterrupted amount of time memorizing verses, I feel so good. Of course, accomplishment is one of those feelings, but I just realized that I feel like I have more energy. In the mornings after my walk (and sadly, I didn't walk this morning), my body feels tired and sticky, yet I feel so much more awake, energetic, and ready to clean the entire house. That's what physical exercise does to the body.


After finally completing the first chapter of 1 Peter, I was up and ready to tackle more brain activity. So I finally pulled my bright yellow Rosetta Stone box off the bookshelf, and now it's in the process of installing on my laptop. It's about time considering that it's been almost a year since I ordered it. It was also my main summer goal. However, my mind has been consumed with preparing for Baby that it's basically turned to mush. My brain seems to only be able to take so much reading of sleep schedules, calming techniques, nursing positions, basic baby care, the top 10 strollers, the top 10 baby carriers, the top 10 diaper bags, how to make your own baby food, swaddling, types of cloth diapers, discussion board after discussion board, and about one million reviews for products. I know it's crazy, but I really thought I would get so much more accomplished this summer. I had personal goals to achieve before the baby arrives--things that I figured would never get done once she's here.


A few days ago, I finally (I looked in the thesaurus and there's not really an equivalent word for "finally" so I'm using it AGAIN) buckled down and became more purposeful about my daily quiet times with God. I used to be more focused and have more specific tasks during this time. So I continued to memorize 1 Peter. It feels so good to actually accomplish something. Like I mentioned earlier, I am now ready to begin Rosetta Stone. I just hope I stick with it. I have no idea what to expect with a new baby in the house. I wonder how long it will be before I can continue learning a new language. I've been so afraid that staying home with children will turn my brain to mush, and I want to be able to keep my body and mind in shape. This blog post will be evidence of when I started, and I'll return to it to see if I've been anywhere near successful--with both Rosetta Stone and Scripture memorization.


Oh darn. I just read this sentence from the Quick Start guide: "You MUST begin the online features within 6 months of purchasing."


Guess I won't be getting my money's worth.

Pure Joy

Something monumental happened this past weekend. Like one of those earth-shattering moments that will never be forgotten. It was just a simple thought that I had, but it was a spiritual and emotional Mount Everest. And I conquered it!

Some people may have absolutely no issue in this area, but I did. I am wary of Scripture verses like the following: “Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds…” (James 1: 2)

Verses that discuss thankfulness for hardships and boasting about suffering cause me to pause. It’s not that I disagree with them. I just tell myself that what they really mean is to thank God for how He got me through those trials, to rejoice in what He taught me, and to believe that I will be stronger in the end. My “trials” in life would include those in my childhood—things that really scarred me—and poor choices I made in high school and college. I always firmly believed that while I appreciated the person I’ve become because of those, I would rather not have had those things happen to me. I always wished that I didn’t come from a “broken” home (divorced, that is, because it really did seem to me to be much more stable than the homes of most people I knew). I always wished that my “stepmom” was really my birth mom. I wished that I could go back and fix the mistakes I made as a young adult. I would have never said that I was glad all of that happened.

Until this past weekend.

I wish I could remember what song we were singing at the women’s retreat, and I really don’t have much to say about this particular event. But for me, it was life-altering. The words of the song must have made some kind of reference to a person’s past, because it made me think of the person I am today and why I am that person. I am who I am because of the events of my past—good or bad. I’ve known that.

The thought that I had was, “Oh my gosh. I really am thankful for everything I’ve been through. If I could do it all over again, I wouldn’t change a thing! I’m glad the bad happened to me, and I’m glad I made the bad choices.” (It’s hard to explain because I’m not happy about the sin itself.) I’ve imagined what my life would be like if it could be the way I described above—a perfect family and a perfect past. I’ve known that if this were the case, I would be a different person. I might not have anxiety. I might be more gentle-spirited. I might be less dramatic. I thought it actually would be better if I had a different personality.

The fact that I can honestly admit that I wouldn’t change a thing about my life shows that I finally like who I am! I know it sounds like something from a preadolescent novel. But really, how many adults still haven’t accepted—or never will accept—the person God intended them to be? Now that I realize God likes me this way and that He planned for me to be this way, I really can thank Him for my circumstances in life.

Yay! My trials have brought “pure joy”!

(I am so grateful that God taught me this profound life lesson because I know that He is preparing me. Life will bring many more trials and tribulations, and now I can look back on this moment and be instantly filled with comfort, peace, and trust in the midst of doubt, uncertainty, and dread.)

Looking Beyond Myself

I’m so thankful God has been teaching me so many things lately. For months, I’ve felt stagnant and He has seemed quiet. Of course, I haven’t really been listening.

I’m amazed that when God teaches me one thing, I find so many parallels to it in other areas, such as other studies, conversations, sermons, songs, etc. For example, I felt that my last blog post didn’t make sense. I didn’t know how to articulate what I learned last Monday and how the answer came about. My answer for my seasonal depression came through my focus on social justice. When I later explained what I had learned to Dave, I knew it must seem confusing, but it made sense to me.

After reciting James and reading 7 by Jen Hatmaker, these were the truths that stuck out to me:

“Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.” – James 1:27

“But you have insulted the poor. Is it not the rich who are exploiting you?” –James 2:6a

“Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?” –James 2:15-16

“You have hoarded wealth in the last days…You have lived on earth in luxury and self-indulgence. You have fattened yourselves in the day of slaughter.” –James 3b, 5

“…what if we downsized to 50 percent, bringing fresh meaning to Jesus’ command to “love our neighbor as ourselves?” –Jen Hatmaker

“While it is easy to become paralyzed by the world’s suffering and the inequalities created by corruption and greed, we actually hold immense power for change, simply by virtue of our wealth and economic independence. Because we decide where our dollars go.” –Jen Hatmaker

The link between my seasonal depression and social justice made more sense after reviewing Chapter 16 of So Long, Insecurity by Beth Moore. I love how God confirms something He has already taught me. Like the previous three times I’ve read Beth Moore’s book, I got to the end and wondered how it was possible to get rid of something as deeply rooted as insecurity. What is the answer? (It’s important to note that many issues we struggle with go hand-in-hand. I am struggling with depression, anxiety, and insecurity. I believe depression and anxiety are by-products of chronic insecurity.) I must be reminded that insecurity is a type of self-centeredness. In Chapter 16, Beth Moore shares something her daughter wrote after returning from mission work overseas. Her daughter ends with this:

So this is my prayer today: that time won’t have its typical way with me. That the sharp edge of the sting I feel deep in my soul won’t ever be dulled or alleviated.

Beth Moore adds, “She realized that…she’d never be healed of her self-centeredness until she was wounded irreparably with love for an aching world.” In this chapter, which is rightfully titled “A Passion to Look Past Ourselves”, she challenges readers with the question: What is your passion? “To find yourself, your true, secure self, you must lose yourself in something larger.”

That’s the answer. My feelings of depression, anxiety, and insecurity occur because I’m focusing on myself. Like I mentioned in the last blog post, when I focus on others and on my purpose in this world, there is no room for depression. 

The chapter ends with Isaiah 58:6-11. Several of those verses came to mind last Monday on the treadmill. 

Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke? Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter?…Then your light will break forth like the dawn, AND YOUR HEALING WILL QUICKLY APPEAR…” (emphasis mine)

Thank you, Lord, for being so clear with me.

But there’s more to the answer. In today’s sermon at church, Ben Tuel spoke of adoption and what this means to Christians. God has adopted us as His sons and daughters and we share in the inheritance. Our identity has changed. Ben said that when we recognize our true identity, it will change how we go about things. To completely understand our true identity, we must shift the focus from ourselves to Christ. Again, the focus is not on me. It’s on God and others.

So this is what it boils down to…

Jesus replied, “’Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hand on these two commandments.” Matthew 22:37-40 (emphasis mine)

God used the Book of James, the book 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by Jen Hatmaker, the book So Long, Insecurity by Beth Moore, and sermons by Seth Broadhurst and Ben Tuel to reiterate the very words Jesus spoke to the crowds in response to the Sadducees and Pharisees, His words which are recorded in Matthew 22. How cool is that?

Now I’m looking forward to where God takes me from here.

A Season of Depression

I’ve been depressed for quite a few months now. I can tell because the simplest tasks seem so daunting. I dread having to put a few dishes in the dishwasher, so cleaning an entire kitchen seems unbearable. The other day I almost broke down in tears out of despair over having to fold two loads of clean laundry. It was enough for me to get the clothes from the washer to the dryer. I’ve known something hasn’t been right.

There is a very plausible explanation for this common depression. Several factors have influenced these feelings, and they’re all entirely circumstantial. One, I am the kind of person who thrives on consistency, normalcy, and routine. The depression started shortly after we moved into our new house and is a by-product of all the anxiety the unfinished home improvement projects have caused. From the major renovations to the minute details, the slow progress (and I’m using “slow” only because it hasn’t been immediate) has made me feel crazy.

Two, I am greatly affected by the weather, and winters are always hard on me. The lack of sunshine and the cold really do make me feel sad and depressed. This is nothing new. However, this winter has been one of the coldest and snowiest that I’ve ever experienced (since living in Alaska, that is). Being a teacher who doesn’t have to work when the roads are bad hasn’t helped any. This is another way that my need for consistency and routine hasn’t been met. A few snow days here and there are a nice respite, but after 18 snow days, not to mention all of the two-hour delays, I feel like I can’t get my act together. The two days we had abundant sunshine in February, I felt energetic, enthusiastic, and happy.

Three, I’m pregnant. With pregnancy come thoughts and concerns that I never had before. Am I eating healthy enough? How will I decorate the nursery? Will the home projects be finished in time? What kinds of things will I have to buy? Can we afford for me to stay home with the baby? How do I parent? Why is this world such a bad place? My mind is all over the place. And I haven’t been sleeping well, which leads to low energy and fatigue, which can also lead to depression. Truly, I feel like my anxiety over having a baby has been pretty low. I don’t worry about it very much. But regardless of whether or not I think about it a lot, pregnancy does cause hormone changes which I believe is not helping the depression.

Four, my daily quiet times and other spiritual disciplines haven’t been consistent. I don’t know why I would expect life to be normal for me when I’m not spending regular time with God reading His Word and communicating with Him. This is an obvious one.

Like I said, I’ve known for a while that I’ve been depressed and there are good reasons for it. But on Sunday, God reminded me of something. During one of the songs at church, and I don’t remember which one, I was reminded that God is bigger than my feelings. A thought dawned on me: I have surrendered to the depression because the depression is normal and it makes sense considering the circumstances. And really, I don’t know if it’s necessarily wrong to feel the way I do. But none of those circumstances compare to God’s power. While reading Galatians, I was reminded that I am not a slave to sin and that I have freedom in Christ. I thought: What does that mean to me? What does it mean to not be a slave to sin or to the Law? What does it mean to have freedom in Christ? It means that while I am dealing with certain situations and while it is completely natural to feel depressed, I don’t have to feel this way. That’s what God laid on my heart on Sunday morning. Thankfully, at that moment, I wasn’t concerned with the how. I didn’t wonder how to be delivered from it or what I could do to fix it. I was only focused on the fact that I don’t have to be depressed.

I am thankful that today was a snow day. I was able to spend quite a bit of time with God. First, I recited James and memorized more of 1 Peter. And here’s my reiteration of how important it is to MEMORIZE SCRIPTURE. What power! What encouragement! Just practicing those two books this morning rejuvenated me more than anything else possibly could have. Then, I read more of 7: An Experimental Mutiny Against Excess by Jen Hatmaker. The truths she discusses in her book go right along with James’s letter in the New Testament. This led to a very lengthy prayer on the treadmill, where I asked God to keep my focus on Him and to help me make every decision in life with a Christian worldview, always aware of the sufferings taking place in this world. I was fully aware of my materialism, especially when it comes to my house. I admitted to God that I have a difficult time balancing a hobby of decorating and home improvements with selfless spending and generosity. My main hobby and interest leans heavily toward materialism and consumerism. The reality is my main hobby and interest has played a major role in my anxiety and depression. The Scripture recitation, the chapter in the book I read, and the dialogue I had with God in prayer on the treadmill reminded me that I am to “live a life worthy of the calling”. And it’s a high calling—one of sacrifice and self-denial, one that requires me to continually be aware of others. When I maintain this Christian worldview to make decisions, there is no room for depression.

So while my mind worked its way from depression to social justice, this is the thought that stood out the most: When I am completely filled with Christ, THERE IS NO ROOM FOR DEPRESSION. The kicker is that I have allow it. I have to take action. I have to focus on Him and others, not on me. 

I am ready and willing to enter back into regular communion with Christ, to communicate with Him more frequently, and to be selfless in my decisions. I am not going to surrender to depression just because there are good reasons to. I don’t have to. Because of my freedom in Christ, I have the power to choose.

Another thought I had about Scripture memorization (something I talk about a LOT): 

Some people think the discipline of memorizing Scripture is completely legalistic. But I realized today that it is about trust and love. I memorize Scripture because I trust God at His word. I trust that the words are living and active, powerful and life-changing. Every word of His is precious to me because He loves me and I love Him. Just as a person treasures a love letter from a sweetheart, to the point of having each word memorized, I treasure each word God has given to me. I could give reasons why we need to memorize Scripture. I could point out various verses that mention the importance of meditating on His word, of having it planted in our hearts. But it comes down to a personal desire to know Him more. And I have never felt like I know Him more than when I memorize His words. The power that the Scriptures had over my life just today as I was battling thoughts on my depression is further confirmation that this is what I’m supposed to do.