Keeping Everything Together

Twenty-four years ago, after giving birth to my second child just 19 months after my first, things weren’t going well. To the rest of the world, everything looked great! We had an adorable toddler, a sweet newborn son, and I was managing to get us all out the door and to church on time each Sunday, usually all on my own. People gushed over my new baby and said how wonderful he was as I smiled widely and said, “I’m great” when anyone thought to ask how I was doing.

There were the expected challenges; dealing with 2 little ones so close in age, nursing my newborn, getting all the tasks done, wondering if you were doing things the “right” way – things you would assume anyone in my position would face. But something just wasn’t right. I felt as though I was looking at the world through hazy glass. Like I was in some sort of bubble and could see what was happening, but from a distorted viewpoint.

When I tried to have conversations, the people talking to me sounded like those muffled adults in the “Peanuts” cartoons. What was wrong with me? 

The years before we had children were filled with lots of challenges. Early in our marriage, my husband had a significant health crisis. He was no longer able to work, and I became his caregiver while also working full time. He was in hospital for several months during my first pregnancy and when our daughter was 8 months old, he was back in hospital again. As our baby daughter was taking her first steps, he was relearning how to walk. I gained a reputation for being “strong”. I heard this all the time – “You are such a strong person”… “I don’t know how you are managing all you have to do”… “ I would fall apart if I had to deal with all of this”. Maintaining this image of strength and competence became very important to me.

When our son was born, I tried so hard to keep everything together. To continue being “strong”. The few times I shared how I was feeling, I was met with comments about how all young Moms feel this way. It was totally normal. An older woman who I greatly respected, and who was a retired maternity nurse offered me this advice… “Don’t let anyone tell you that you have post-partum depression. You just have the baby blues. Most women have that. You just need some vitamins and to get out for a walk every day”. Finally, the nurse at the breastfeeding clinic suggested I talk to my family doctor. He gave me a prescription for an anti-depressant. It changed everything. It didn’t take away the circumstances, but it lifted the fog. I needed it. At first I thought that this meant that I was weak – that I needed a crutch. But a dear friend pointed out that this showed my strength. It takes strength to identify a need and seek help.

Years later, this lesson would come back to me. In the 24 years since my son was born, there have been more challenges. My husband’s health and mental health struggles continued. Our son was diagnosed with a serious disease as a preschooler, one that still causes him a great deal of suffering. We went through a season of facing some very difficult issues as a couple, and as a family. And yet, even after that early lesson, I still wanted to be seen as the “strong” one. I knew that the years of struggle had deeply affected me, but I was putting on that veneer of being able to manage it all.

I have always been blessed with an amazing support system. Incredible friends. An extended family that meets very practical needs. A workplace that accommodates hospital stays and many medical appointments. My church family that prays and offers care and understanding. All of that is wonderful, but I needed more. I needed to identify my need and seek help.

Last year as the pandemic began, I sought out a psychotherapist. I have begun meeting with her monthly and it is an immense help to have a professional counsellor to talk through all that is going through my mind and is affecting my day-to-day life. There is strength in confronting and naming the things that make us feel weak. Now when I read 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, I see it in a new light. God’s grace comes to us in many forms – friends, family, provision of needs. But it can also come to us in ways that The Church in general has not always promoted – clinical therapy and medication to address mental health. I see God’s power when I have an amazing conversation with my therapist, or I see how my husband’s medication helps him with his anxiety. I feel God’s grace when I am prompted to empathy over another’s mental health struggle. I can let that grace wash over me when I confront weakness, “For when I am weak, then I am strong”.

By Donna Leung

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