A Haines Home Companion: Motherhood and Anti-Depression
Titus has nearly ruined me. Seth and I look at each other with that connecting eye, saying do you see that? how precious he is? He loves music and is always dancing and playing piano and banging a drum. He carries a guitar and leans back bending his knees like he’s shredding it.
He makes my heart ache with love, like all our children do, and the ache I know comes from the deep desire that no harm ever come to them.
Lately I’ve had many mother friends confess to me that their darkest fears have crept to the front of their minds and have grown monster heads. These thoughts are worse postpartum. When they get in cars, they worry what will happen on the drive. When they imagine life, they can’t help but imagine what if their sons marry whores and cancer eats and drugs win. One of my friends once was terrified after having a baby that she would do something like leave the baby in her carseat on top of the car. Our minds accidentally whirl into a vortex of fear. That’s how deeply vulnerable we are with our babies.
When Titus was so sick, something clicked in us. If God wants to take him, then he’ll take him. We really wrestled with it and landed in peace. One night after making it home from the hospital, Titus’ feeding-tube pump kept messing up. His food had drained into the bed instead of into his tummy. I had held it together so well, but as I shut the door behind me after getting him fixed up again, I walked into the hall in the dark. I stood there and cried.
Then God met me, dark and silence. I held my hands to the ceiling like cups. I told Him to do what He will. Peace settled in me, and as I walked down the hall, the fingers of fear peeled off.
When Jacob wrestled with God and left with that limp, he left blessed because he had seen the face of God. I had forgotten the part of the story where later again, Jacob sees God face to face on a long journey, and because he had seen God, he took his precious oil and wine, and he poured it out to God.
I imagine being on a journey, how much you depend on your goods, how the oil would seem to be what sustained you. Yet after seeing God, Jacob poured it out, and he poured it in faith.
I have to pour it out to Him again and again, my precious things, and every time I do, it’s the peace I’ve been missing that sweeps over. It’s the peace that send our children into the future. Peace is anti-depression.*
This Monday will be my last #ConcreteWords for a while, and our topic is The Path. Will you join me? If you would like to host #ConcreteWords while I’m on a break from it, send me an email.
*If you need antidepressants, take them. Maybe try Peace, too. The end.