A Different Kind of Depression

  As I look back on my life’s tapestry, I notice that the threads of depression are woven into the picture even before our eighth baby was born.  After the seventh baby, they are so tightly intertwined with anxiety that they are hardly recognizable. 

   We had been blessed with two girls and then four boys.  I was convinced I was having another boy so when the doctor said, “It’s a girl.”  I replied, “No, it’s not.”  “Look for yourself.” said the doctor as she held my new baby up for me to see.  I was delighted.  My husband called home to talk to the older children.  From across the room I could hear the girls screaming with joy.   They were thrilled to have a baby sister.  Our new baby was healthy and the delivery had been relatively easy.  All seemed well until about two weeks postpartum when my thoughts became frightening.  

     I would lay awake at night watching my baby breathe certain that she was going to die in her sleep.  I refused to bathe her because I just knew she was going to drown.  I worried that it might happen accidentally, but worse yet I worried that I might drown her.  I dreaded driving with the baby or any of my children in the car because I envisioned myself driving into oncoming traffic or over freeway bridges.  I felt so blest to have been given this little girl but I was convinced that God was going to take her away from me.  What I was being punished for I did not know. I believed I was unworthy of such a precious gift.  I was sleep deprived, paranoid and anxious.  I felt guilty for not taking better care of my newborn and for my disturbing thoughts.

      The only time I spoke of my distorted thinking was in my journal.  I was afraid that if I told anyone what was going on in my mind they would think I was crazy and take my children from me.  Secretly, I believed I was crazy.  Living in continual fear and feeling that I had lost my mind made the picture on my tapestry hard to discern. 

     I did not realize it at the time but I was suffering from postpartum depression and anxiety.  I had always believed that if you were depressed you cried all the time and felt sad.  I did not know that anxiety and guilt were also symptoms of postpartum depression.  The website www.postpartumprogress.com  gives excellent lists of the symptoms of postpartum depression and anxiety.  I wish I had seen such lists during those weeks and months after my seventh baby was born.  I may have been better able to weave a clear picture if I had known my distorted thinking had a name.  Most importantly, I could have reached out for help and received treatment for my illness.   I urge any woman suffering from similar symptoms to seek help and to know that you are not going crazy. You have a terrible, but treatable disease. Don't let anxiety and depression color your tapestry; instead weave with the threads of peace and joy.

God the Weaver

    “When we embrace the many parts of our experience we discover a magnificent creation. . . Every moment is but a thread, a thread of consciousness embracing the very essence of life. Some threads are brilliant and dazzling while others are tattered and torn. When looked upon in isolation the tattered threads look inferior. Yet when woven together by the wondrous hands of the Creator, the light magically blends with the dark. As joy coalesces with pain, God creates the magnificent tapestry that is life.”      Debbie Milam

     When you are suffering from depression it is difficult to see God’s hands at work on your tapestry.   There are no “brilliant and dazzling” threads, only “tattered and torn.”  There is no joy only pain.  My tapestry was becoming worn and tear-stained.  It took all my strength to get out of bed and care for my children during those first six months after our eighth baby was born.  Not only was I having difficulty caring for them but I was also attempting, rather unsuccessfully, to homeschool the older children.  

     The anti-depressant my doctor had prescribed needed to be increased three times before I began to feel better.  Once again I could see more than just dismal, worn strands.  I could see a lovely picture taking shape.  Now I was weaving with bright and dazzling threads.  The change was dramatic and sudden.  All that had seemed too difficult to accomplish just days before became easy tasks.  I was schooling the children, caring for the toddlers and baby and completing household chores.  I needed little sleep and continually felt as though I had drunk a pot of coffee. My mind raced with thoughts and ideas.

      One afternoon I took two of my boys with me to the grocery store.  They had trouble keeping up with my quickened pace.

      “Slow down mom.  You’re running in the store.” 

      “Yeah, we can’t keep up with you.”

     I just laughed.  It felt so good to laugh after so many months of crying.  I thought this new found happiness and energy were just a return to normal.  I prayed that it would last and my tapestry would never be woven of just dull, ragged threads again.  A few months later I learned that this time of euphoria was not normal but actually an episode of bipolar mania possibly triggered by the anti-depressant.

     When I stepped back and looked at my tapestry I could see where the garish threads of mania were interwoven with the dark threads of depression.  God had woven these contrasting threads together to create a picture that tells my story.

   Is there a time in your life when “brilliant and dazzling” threads have been woven together with “tattered and torn” threads?

Threads of Many Colors

    Life is a tapestry and every day we weave ours with the threads of our thoughts, feelings and actions.  We can choose the bright colored threads of happiness, forgiveness and gratitude or we can choose the dull colors of sadness, anger and resentment.  Sometimes it seems that we have no choice.  Life spirals out of control and our weaving is chaotic.  The picture we once thought we were designing no longer resembles what we had planned.  During these difficult times we must not lose faith or hope.  Our tapestry may turn out to be more beautiful than we ever imagined. 

    I was weaving my life’s tapestry with the varied colors of happiness and sadness, love and anger, gratitude and resentment.  My days were hectic with parenting seven children, homeschooling and housework.  I was busy but I loved my vocation.  Almost immediately after our eighth baby was born my life’s tapestry could only be woven with dull colors.  I was overcome with sadness and did not realize I was suffering from post-partum depression.  My doctor prescribed medication when I couldn’t stop crying at my six week check-up.  I felt better just knowing that what I was experiencing had a name and I wasn’t losing my mind. 

     Once the medication began to take affect I took control of the loom once again.  I wove a picture of how I had been drowning in sadness, how it had affected my family and how I had been rescued by my doctor, medication and most importantly the prayers of family and friends. 

     What I could not have foreseen at the time was that this was just the beginning of my battle with depression.  For several years the picture on my tapestry would be one of despair, frustration and hopelessness intricately woven together with short periods of stability and peace.  

      I have many stories to tell about weaving my life during these difficult times. Some stories are woven into dark hopeless pictures while others are bright with courage and perseverance. The thread that joins them all is the strong enduring thread of faith. 

     What are the connecting threads  in your life’s tapestry?