I looked at my phone and saw my happiest friend’s name pop up on the screen. She was my one friend I could count on for a good laugh. You know the laugh-until-you-cry kind of laughter that makes your stomach muscles hurt – this was that friend. 

I answered, “Hey girl!” 

The response on the other end immediately set off red flags in my brain. As I listened to her hold back the tears it was clear there was no specific thing that was affecting her emotions. She was feeling completely overwhelmed with motherhood. Her newborn baby was waking up all hours of the night, not gaining weight like he should and mom was paying the emotional price by feeling completely inadequate and exhausted. Not just any exhaustion, mom of a newborn exhaustion. 

As my friend relayed the way she was feeling I immediately took myself back to the lonely nights of nursing, the secluded feeling of being trapped in the house with a real live human being depending on me for their every need. I knew the feeling. I remember the tears that would burst through my eyes without warning and I remember the lack of confidence, the solitude. 

Oh, I loved my baby dearly. I believed she was the cutest thing on planet earth, but I was not prepared for the imbalance in my body after giving birth to my precious bundle of joy. 

No one told me that my joy might be challenged with the most force I had ever experienced. So I hid. I tucked my feelings away in public and exploded with emotions at home.

Eventually I collapsed beneath the weight of it all. 

With deep empathy I told my friend, “You’re normal. It’s going to be okay. You need to rest.” I told her I too had crying spells, felt lonely, and completely inadequate to fulfill every need of the gift of God had placed in my life.

We prayed and hung up the phone. I checked in throughout the week to make sure she was getting the support she needed and eventually after a few more phone calls, the word was finally spoken – depression. 

Trust me, I totally understand pushing the word off as long as possible. I mean who wants to say that they are depressed? It is hard to admit when you don’t see a way out. By saying it, it’s like giving into the ugly monster of despair. You might as well just bury me now. Admitting you are depressed is not easy and I do not take it lightly. 

What do you do when you don’t see a way out?

We talked through the symptoms and I knew a doctor’s visit was so necessary. So I did the thing any good friend should and told her to go to her doctor. Thankfully, she did.

I don’t know the outcome of the doctor visit, but I do know this, my laughing buddy got her smile back, her humor soared, and her baby grew and was cuter than ever. 

Sometimes when you don’t see a way out all it takes is a phone call. 

I wish I would have made a phone call when I noticed early symptoms. I would have saved myself some deep grief and a long season of struggling.

We don’t have to pretend like we are perfect moms, with perfect births, perfect babies who breast-feed perfectly or develop exactly how google says they should. 

We are broken. We experience loss. We search for hope. We look for someone who understands. 

So here I am saying, I get it. Maybe you need a lifeline or maybe you are the lifeline. It’s time to be there for each other. 

You are going to make it through this, even when you don’t see your way out.

Receive these words or offer them to a friend. 

“O God, thou art my God; early will I seek thee: my soul thirsteth for thee, my flesh longeth for thee in a dry and thirsty land, where no water is.” Psalm 63:1

Who will you call?

Love & Blessings,