Postpartum Epiphany

It's over now, and I'm all better now. But...

A few days ago, I was having one of those baby-blues days... the one where I weep over the littlest thing and think the world is a sad and lonely place, even though nothing terrible is happening in my life. Sound familiar to any other mothers? Actually, it probably sounds somewhat familiar to anybody who has ever experienced emotional moodiness (which is most of us, at one time or another, right?)

Well, so, on my not-so-very-happy day, I stomped my feet and gritted my teeth at my children one too many times. And I pouted through dinner, like a teenager. And I sent my Samantha to bed without any kisses (until she was asleep). And I ended the day in a sniveling ball on the bed, determined to cry myself to sleep, just because. I was truly quite inconsolable, despite Brian's attempts to cuddle me out of my blues. It was a pretty ugly day, to be honest. Even now, I think I might tear up, just recalling it all.

Yucky.

Anyway, there I laid in my bed with the lights out, stifling my sobs into my pillow, so Brian didn't get overly concerned. (Don't worry -- he didn't. He was asleep faster than I could sniffle... newborn days do that, even to daddies.) After awhile, my nose got so stuffy I had to get up and blow it, and well, then I ended up on the couch, whimpering to myself. I played a few hymns quietly on the piano -- one of my stress-relievers -- and ended with "Abide with me." These words kept going through my head, as I played and cried:

"The darkness of the world, I fear, would in my home abide...

O Savior, stay this night with me. Behold, 'tis eventide."

It was making me so sad.

So I prayed.

For a long time.

And then I felt better.

I think that's the epiphany I was referring to in the title. And it's the same epiphany I get whenever I need it. It seems so easy: I pray for comfort, and I receive comfort. I pray for answers, and I receive what I need. Every time, even when I don't recognize it. I love those sweet moments, though I wish I didn't get so whiny and sad in the first place.

An extra bonus epiphany from that night... As I was wiping my tears and preparing to head back to bed, I saw a little book sitting on our end table by the piano. It was about a professor who had terminal cancer and wanted to leave his parting thoughts for his three young children. (True story, called "The Last Lecture.") Well, I picked it up and opened it randomly to a chapter in the middle. He was sharing his thoughts about the birth of his first son...

His wife had to have an emergency C-section, and their baby was very premature. Both the mother and child were in danger, but both pulled through. The father described his feelings as he and his wife went through such a traumatic experience. It was interesting and very relevant to me, after just having had a C-section (even though mine was not so scary or traumatic.) He ended with the thought that, no matter what we're going through, we can either make it worse or make it better by the way we deal with it.

That's not a new idea, of course. (Life is all about attitude; it's 10% what happens and 90% how we respond, etc.) But if felt new to me as I thought about the way I had dealt with my rotten day. It was something I needed to hear, and something that has made me want to try to do a little bit better. I'm not saying I shouldn't have cried and felt down. I know that "down" days just happen. But I did determine that I can do better at ... well, at making things better for myself (and whoever else is around me), instead of worse.

And next "down" day, maybe I won't pout through dinner. Maybe Samantha will get her kisses while she's still awake. Maybe I'll let Brian cuddle me into a better mood. Then we'll see that epiphany put into action!