The Why:

I've been thinking today about why I am writing a blog. And more specifically, why, if I've chosen a blog as a medium for my wonderings, am I not telling anyone about it? Why, if I am being secretive, not just write in a journal? Why write at all? The latter question has a simpler answer: I think I need to. I've never been much of a writer. I've tried keeping a journal, always to no avail. A few pages in and my interest wanes or I feel my subject matter dry up. But for this period in my life, I need to write. I was having terrible anxiety a few nights ago and I grabbed a notebook and pen and started writing this:

   The RPN I am seeing says anger is a branch of anxiety (other potential branches being obsession, panic, etc.) and I am really beginning to see the truth of it. I haven't figured out the root of the anxiety itself, but maybe that will come with time. Before I get angry my mind fills with racing thought about whatever is happening at that moment (N. is fussing, not feeding, my house is a mess, I don't have any energy, supper isn't cooked...) and then suddenly they turn into thoughts about how "I don't want this"; "I don't want to be a mom"; "I want this all to end"; "I just want to disappear, God just let me disappear."
   Tonight I thought about how easy it would be for me to suffocate my baby - there was a pillow right there. It was bedtime, she wasn't nursing and I just thought "I could end it now, so easily." The anger was so great and the urge so strong... I did take that pillow and placed it over her face, she fussed and struggled, but I seemed oddly calm. Then, and I'm not sure what happened, I removed the pillow and snapped back, took her out to A. I was shaking and crying.
   I've had a few good days in a row now and I thought maybe at least the anger was gone. But even now, I can hear her crying in the living room with her Grandma D. and I want to go and hurt her... grab her... shake her. And I feel so guilty... so dreadfully guilty, I shouldn't be her mom.
   Another part of my anxiety is that I get some stupid song stuck in my head on repeat. Her Grandma D. says that repetitive thoughts are common with anxiety. But today, blessedly, the song in my head is a praise song - Thank you, Lord!

Standing on this Mountaintop
Looking just how far we've come
Knowing that for every step you were with us

Kneeling on this battleground
Seeing just how much you've done
Knowing every victory was your power in us

Scars and struggles on our way
But with joy our hearts can say
(Yes our hearts can say)

Never once did we ever walk alone
Never once did you leave us on our own
You are faithful, God you are faithful.

Scars and struggles on the way
But with joy our hearts can say
Never once did we ever walk alone
Carried by Your constant grace
Held within Your perfect peace
Never once, no, we never walk alone

Every step we are breathing in Your grace
Evermore we’ll be breathing out Your praise
You are faithful, God, You are faithful *

 I think I'll keep that one in the back of my mind. :)

After finishing that entry I felt more calm, and like I had won a victory, even if it was a small one. I had been able to replace "O Suzanna" and "Old MacDonald Had a Farm" with a praise song. And not just any praise song but one about scars and struggles, battles and mountains, and joy and grace and peace. In the margins of the lyrics of the song I wrote:

  I have faith that someday I will be able to say "I've reached the top of my mountain. I've gained a victory on this battleground because of God's grace"

Please, God, don't leave N alone. Be faithful to protect her like you did today.
 
 And I think that is why I chose to start writing a blog: Because someday (or so I've been told) I'll have reached the top or my mountain and won the victory over my PPMD. Maybe then, or maybe sooner, I'll have the courage to share my journey with others, and help to break the silence and stigma of postpartum depression. If and when that day comes I beg you, the reader, to have grace... what I have just shared is dark and I constantly feel guilty about those moments. Today I said to my husband A. "Why can't we just give her to someone who would be a better mom than me." I pray you will have grace like my husband who, at the time said nothing, then later when I retracted, through shaking sobs saying "I don't think I really meant that" said "I know you didn't - we'll get through this."

* "Never Once" recorded by Matt Redman. I just took some of the verses, the ones that were particularly important to me.