I find myself suddenly crying while washing the dishes or breastfeeding the baby.
I find myself reminiscing my mother, our days together and how much I regretted not being by her side during her final hour.
I find myself missing the time when our family’s schedules were so worked out, our house clean.
I find myself miserable for losing my temper at the children.
I find myself getting depressed over silly, little things.
I know this. This is real. Postpartum depression.
A baby changes everything. It’s very hard especially for an order freak like me.
Then I find myself crying to God. There is no point in keeping it all to myself.
He told me it’s OK.
He told me it’s OK to be sad. Life is changing towards something I cannot see yet. I have to learn to let things be.
Oh please Lord help me.
He told me it’s OK to miss your mother. She loved you unconditionally. Now I finally comprehend the depth of her sacrifices.
He told me it’s OK to worry about the schedules but not to be burdened by the lack of it. I am doing my best and what He wants me to do.
Remember: His plans, not mine.
He told me it’s OK to get mad when the children misbehaves but to forgive and forget right away. Children are children. They lack maturity which age and responsibilities can give.
I should know. Took me 6 kids to grow up. (Still growing in the inside though.)
He told me it’s OK if you can’t do everything on your own. Your husband, father and children want to raise the baby with you. Ask help. Sleep when your husband asks you to. Walk outside and smell the roses.
He told me everything will be OK. What maybe humanly inconceivable becomes possible because I can rely on supernatural grace. The greater the suffering, the greater the grace. He guarantees that.
Draw your strength from me.
So be it.