I was 22. I took a pregnancy test. Negative.
“It’s wrong,” God spoke to my heart.
The next morning I took another one. Positive.
I was…paralyzed. Although the joy developed, I continued to cling to my will. This ultimately manifest itself as severe postpartum depression.
I expected parenting to be hard, that’s why I wanted to wait. My schedule changed from a full-time student and waitress to a stay-at-home mom. This was particularly hard being the achievement-oriented, driven person that I am.
I have to say I had the depression coming. I was angry with God for not following my agenda. Every time I had do something I didn’t want to do, which is 85% of parenting, I explained to God that this is why I did not want a baby yet. Suddenly, after a few years of rejecting God, I had something to say to Him. I loved my baby, don’t get me wrong, but daily I cultivated an attitude of bitterness.
I cried everyday, and felt as though the loneliness was going to crush me. When Garrett was four months old, I concluded this wasn’t normal. I reached the end of myself. I realized I could not handle parenting on my own. My way had landed me in the middle of insanity and despair. So, I began to take practical steps out of it. I joined a local Bible study, mostly to treat my depression, meet people and get two hours of free childcare a week. I was still leery about God, but where else could I go?
“Train up a child in the way he should go, and when he is old he will not depart from it.” (Prov. 22:6)
Oh, the wisdom of God! The birth of my first child was the very thing that brought me back to God.
