A Post Partum-Like Episode without the Joy of a Baby

I know in the past I’ve shared with you some trials and tribulations of my life. Who could forget the time we suffered a financial loss, I came down with shingles, and lost my Nana all in the same three week period. Or the day that I was baptized alongside Nick and a few hours later spent the evening in the hospital with another ruptured cyst. Why have I shared these intimate moments? Not to complain, not to say woe is me, or feel sorry for me, but because in this new age of social media where everyone shares a carefully curated, picture perfect life I feel it’s necessary to share the realities too. The reality that we all are broken, that we all face hardships, that the mom who you see at school pick up who always seems to have it together struggles too. Most importantly though, I want to share how I pulled through in hopes that anyone who is struggling with something similar may find hope in their pain.

This past year proved to be no different than these incidents. Coming off of the cyst debacle I ended up with another one, this time so big that it had to be surgically removed, along with my ovary. Weeks after finding that out, Nick had his grand maul seizure that led to other ailments, tests and many unknowns. I had to actually have my surgery while he was home unable to drive, so there was a 2 week span that neither he nor I could drive. Although all of it was stressful and crazy, with God guiding us the whole way we were able to handle it all. He brought us loads of support from friends and family. Rides, meals, doctor referrals, prayers, you name it, He provided and I was still moving on with my same vigor and positivity. Then came the shift.

It started slowly, and I kept thinking it was normal to feel that kind of stress and anxiety. We had been through a lot, maybe it finally all culminated and the stress was finally too much for my body to bear. My doctor assured me everything was fine, and that my left ovary was supposed to kick in and provide enough hormones for the two of them, and to just “give it time.” But then bad went to worse and before I knew it I was drowning. The only way I could describe what I was feeling was that it was that it felt exactly like post partum anxiety. A feeling I knew all too well, having suffered from it after both of my pregnancies. The sole reason we decided not to have any more children, I couldn’t go through that again.

I was SO. MAD. It took me YEARS to get over the residual damage that those post partums caused. I was so grateful to be past that stage in my life and I never wanted to go back there again. Here I was, 7 years after having my last child and back where I started. The feelings were of isolation, never wanting to leave the house, not wanting to be alone, not trusting myself. The intrusive thoughts came back, the lies Satan tried to get me to believe, that the world would be better off without me, and that I should just leave it. These thoughts came flooding back into my life and refused to leave. This time around far worse than the former two.

Being that I’d been through this before, I did what I knew. I called out for help. I prayed, and prayed, and prayed some more. I called my doctors to talk about medicine changes. I went to a Christian cognitive behavioral therapist and got to work trying to reprogram my brain. I was taking it minute by minute, hour by hour. The only two places I forced myself to go were Church and Bible study. Every week. The demons followed me both locations, and tried their best to wedge themselves between God and me. Some days were better than others, but I never quit going. The therapy seemed to be the only thing helping, I had my tool box of breathing exercises, my scripture anxiety flip book, my mantras to chant, the bible verses to pray repeatedly and the worship music on repeat (I share my favorite songs at the end of this post). But still the darkness stayed. None of the medications my psychiatrist put me on were helping, it had been weeks with no change. I cried out to God for help, I knew I couldn’t do this on my own, and this time the pain seemed stronger. I boldly asked Him for a remedy, no matter what that was, whether medicine or even redirected pain. I cried out for God to give me physical pain instead of mental pain. I can handle feeling physical pain, but mental and emotional weakness was far too much for me to endure (spoiler alert - he would later swap the two so lovingly and perfectly).

Shortly after that my dear sweet Bible study leader told me about a doctor she had been to who specialized in hormones and women’s health. She was an OBGYN and a fellow believer, but she didn’t believe in using drugs for treatment. At this point I was ready to try anything so off I went.

When I went into her office I described what was going on and how I needed her to “fix my hormones.” She launched into all of the things that she said needed fixed - my diet, my pills, my rheumatoid arthritis, my ulcers, my digestive issues. I said, no, you don’t understand, I just need you to fix my hormones. I’ve got all of that other stuff under control with meds. She looked at me and laughed and said, do you think your body parts are independent from one another? You think your hormones aren’t affected by every aspect of your body and everything else inside of you that’s broken? I just stared back blankly as she explained to me the anatomy and biology of the human body and how it all works. Everything she was saying was annoying me, I’m not going to lie. I just wanted a simple fix. Just tell me I need estrogen or something, write me a prescription and send me on my way. But that’s not what she did. She tested everything. Blood, urine, spit, hormones, deficiencies, the works. She believes that the only true way to test hormone levels is through a spit test, and that merely drawing blood will not give you an accurate account of your levels.

Before we would get any of the test results back she told me the worst thing anyone could have told me - if I wanted a fighting chance of beating this I needed to change my eating. Not just like, lay off the chips, a TOTAL CHANGE. She put me on a gluten free, dairy free, caffeine free, alcohol free, egg free, corn free, red meat free, and sugar free eating plan. What’s left?! If you know anything about me it’s that I love(d) food. Give me ALL THE FOOD. You just named all of my favorite food groups and are telling me I have to ditch them all? No thanks, just give me the pills.

I got in the car and called Nick. I regurgitated everything she had just said before I surely would forgot it all. He just said, Jess, it’s not that big of a deal, it’s just food. If she really thinks it will fix you, just do it. Ugh, I hate when he’s right.

I knew there was no way this was going to happen overnight, so VERY slowly I started implementing the change one thing at a time. In the mean time she got my test results back and of course I was a mess. I basically had no progesterone or testosterone, I was deficient in basically every vitamin and nutrient a human needs for basic survival and had a thyroid imbalance. I left that second visit with more vitamins and supplements than Whole Foods has along with a prescription for 4 things to pick up from the Pharmacy. At this point, as I stared down at my counter and all of the pills stared back at me I decided if I was going to do this thing I’d go all in. No more baby steps, I was going to commit. So I did.

About a week after I started I was out at an event and I was eating by myself when a man came up to me. He saw what was on my plate and asked if I was on an altered eating plan. He then launched into a story about how he had battled cancer and some other illnesses and after coming through it all he got put on the very same diet. He told me he had never felt better in his whole life, that he had more energy, slept better and felt great. He told me I needed to adjust my attitude towards food. God created food for sustenance and survival, not as an indulgence or a way for us to party and hang out with friends. The sooner I realized food’s place in my life the easier things would be. This random (not random at all, God intervening) 5 minute encounter with a stranger helped shift my perspective and is what I held onto as I struggled with the new plan.

The first month was no fun. I was popping supplements around the clock, and missing all of my favorite things (like coffee and bread). I’d make progress and feel better, then go backwards and the panic attacks would creep back in. I’d cry out to God in frustration, “Seriously?! I’m doing everything! I’m eating grass! I’m studying your word, I’ve surrendered this pain to you. Why aren’t I fixed yet!?” But I never gave up and I never turned from Him. I prayed constantly. And I mean constantly. I prayed to keep my own brain from being able to speak. I prayed the scriptures of anxiety, sadness, darkness and hope. They brought me comfort in my darkest hours. For every bad day there were a couple of good ones. As time went on I could break free from those intrusive thoughts quicker. I could get my thoughts back on the right track and focus on the good, on what God had already done for me. I PRAISED HIM for every thing good in my life, down to the birds in the sky. If it brought me a shred of happiness I thanked God for it.

My favorite book to read when my anxiety is bad is “Anxious for Nothing,” by Max Lucado. It’s amazing, and so wise and comforting. I’ve dog eared, highlighted and scribbled notes all over this book. He uses scripture and God’s Truth but also gives you an action plan on what TO DO. I’m an action taker. I need someone to say, “repeat this verse after me,” “make a list of everything you are grateful for.” Don’t just talk, DO. Making a gratitude list is one of the most helpful things I can tell you to do. Shift the focus away from the negative and towards the positive. I CAN’T STRESS THIS ENOUGH. Your brain will get bogged down with bad thoughts, it’s one of Satan’s best tools he can use. Paul tells us in Philippians, “Finally brethren, whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are worthy of praise, if there is any virtue and if there is anything worthy of praise, think on these things (Phil 4:8). As I was spiraling out of control, and the darkest thoughts would enter my mind I would stop and say “NONE of these check the boxes for what Paul says!!” Then I would start writing out anything and everything I could think of that fit this description. A husband who puts the kids to bed, gives baths and unloads the dishwasher. A mom who races to my house when I can’t be alone and will help with the laundry while she’s here.

As I examined this list that Paul made me (mad shout out to Paul, I can’t wait to meet this guy one day), the lessons learned from my bible study, and the progress made in cognitive behavioral therapy I only grew stronger in my faith (Haha Satan, you didn’t drive me further away I only got stronger!).

We changed churches, I added a second bible study to my weekly calendar and even started a weekly men’s bible study in our home. We used every opportunity God gave us to praise Him, and show others how much GOOD came from all of our struggles. I went to bed and woke up singing His praises. And I don’t mean that figuratively, I mean EVERY morning as my eyes opened, and EVERY night before I fell asleep I thanked Him for anything good. Thank you God I slept a full 8 hours, I NEED sleep to battle this. Thank you Lord for only 1 or 2 brief anxious thoughts today, I’m so unbelievably grateful for this. Thank you God for our new home church, we have already grown in our maturity, and know this was Your plan.

After about a month, all of the dark thoughts seemed to disappear entirely. The clouds parted and the sun shone through. Between the therapy, the supplements, and the diet changes I was feeling better than ever. I have to note - for 5 years I’ve been taking Enbrel injections twice a week for my Rheumatoid Arthritis. Before those shots I couldn’t open a water bottle on my own. I had to stop taking them before my back surgery about 8 weeks ago (with the plan to restart after surgery), and I haven’t gotten back on them. So far, my body feels GREAT and I havent’t needed them.

When I finally broke free from this darkness I didn’t want to talk about it. I knew that God had a purpose in my pain, that eventually I’d need to share my story, (which led to an amazing testimony) but I didn’t want to. I kept telling Him I wasn’t ready. I’d think of something I wanted to say and jot it down, then stop, not being able to go any further. It was all still too raw and every time I even thought about it I’d get scared, ashamed and want to forget any of it any happened.

Last week, during one of my MANY weekly bible studies I now do (I eventually added more), God told me it was time. We are studying Deuteronomy and we got to the part when the Israelites were getting ready to enter the Promised Land. For REAL this time. Not the first time around when they let their fear and anxiety keep them from obedience that cost them bliss. No, this was the second try. They wandered in the wilderness again, made it back, again, and it was finally time to enter their new world. The land where milk and honey flowed, where wonderful homes awaited them, where God told them they were about to live large and have the GOOD LIFE. But before they entered all of that amazing perfection He urged them, REMEMBER THE WILDERNESS. Never forget how in the times that you thought were rough, God was with you. When you were hungry, He dropped Manna from the sky, when you were thirsty, He made water appear. Never forget the struggle, but more importantly how God SHOWED UP and never left your side. If you forget, and get caught up in all of the good, never remembering Who got you there you’ll get complacent, lazy, selfish, and eventually ungrateful and wanting more.

And it hit me. As much as I wanted to forget everything that happened (and I did), I shouldn’t. I want to repress the heck out of these memories, pretend I never felt them, forget the horrible lies I told myself, forget that I didn’t want to live. But God doesn’t want that from me. I decided to talk with a friend about it over breakfast and test the waters to see how I did talking about it all (you know see if I could post it for the world to read). Through talking with her and just getting it all out on the table I realized that where I am today is actually part of my testimony.

You see, during all of this (as well as previous sagas), I’ve been a saved Christian. For years I have believed there is only one God and that Jesus is God’s son. I believe he died for my sins, I believe he rose again and will come back one day. I believe it down in the depths of my heart and soul. I believe in living out your life like tomorrow could be my last. But I always wondered why some people had this apparent “heart on fire” so to speak. This overwhelming joy that never seemed to leave them. When they talked they always smiled, they didn’t seem to complain much and in everything they did pointed back to God in a way I felt I lacked. I had this vision in my head of the Holy Spirit coming down out of the clouds glowing and entering their bodies and that being what drove them each day. I had always wondered why that hadn’t happened to me. Don’t get my wrong, I loved people, I was happy and grateful and knew I was definitely on the right path, but that spark they had, seemed to be missing. I prayed about it often, and asked God to light that same fire in me. Well, this time around, when God drove out the darkness for good, He literally left me with that feeling. No, it didn’t come down out of the heavens on a chariot. No, I didn’t have a physical experience where it appeared out of nowhere. It filled my heart slowly, and that feeling WAS GRATITUDE.

You see every single day that I don’t feel like my world is crumbling all around me is THE BEST DAY EVER. No different than the day before, that feeling doesn’t leave me. My kids don’t annoy me. I laugh and smile more. I care, like truly actually care about the people I come in contact with. I let way more of the “little things” go. I don’t worry about moms judging me (only God can judge me!). FOMO doesn’t bother me as much (I still get it a little, I am a woman afterall). Not much gets me riled up. But most importantly, I live with a fire in my heart for Jesus, and want each day to reflect that love for Him in ALL that I do. I finally got that heart on fire and don’t ever want to let it go.

Could I have done without the pain and drama of it all? Absolutely! But did the most amazing feeling, spiritual awakening and wonderful joy come out of it? Yes. And for that I am grateful. Consider it all Joy.

My favorite worship music that got me through the darkest times: