Friday, January 8, 2010
The deep depression I experienced after Piper has made me consider more this time how much I need to be connected. I've been on my guard against it, taking my pills, using some gentle hormone therapy. The writing is a guard as well, a way to push out of the anxiety, put swirling thoughts down, get things out of my system. I try to remember so I don't forget the ones I love this time, so I don't miss them.
The thought crossed my mind yesterday, "do I really love God?"
I spend so much time thinking about Him, I must at least have a crush. But just as with my crushes, I am reluctant to come out and say it, say that I love God. It sounds funny coming out of my mouth.
I hardly say that I love my husband sometimes. I get embarrassed.
But sometimes when the days are hardest and nothing seems to be going right, I look up, and there he is Pete giving, or doing, or being - a good and perfect gift God told me he was long before I fell in love with him - and my heart would explode if I didn't at least whisper to him of my love.
And I've been saying it a lot lately.
I wonder if he will be there when we come out of these early days with little sleep and lots of change. I know neither of us will be the same. I think many people just live their way through this and accept the changes that come. We think about it as we go, though, and cling a bit harder to what we were.
But we're parents of two now. Last night, Piper was in her own bed for a while, and for a few short minutes before sleep claimed us, Pete and I laid together and held one another without a baby in between. I felt like a married woman.
How does a woman go about being a helpmeet for her husband when there is a new baby in the house, when her heart is going through so much, when she feels fragile and shell-shocked and uncertain? When he is at work and she is at home, when the babies have needs even at night, how does she make a place for him, give him the life she longs to give?
I realize I have been unconsciously setting me aside; I am afraid to need my husband - he is doing so much, and I want to offer him a place to rest that seems impossibly out of reach. But oh that ache for him that is constantly there...
I think it is something like the ache I know for God sometimes when He seems far away, the one that draws me near to Him to look up into His face for a moment, just to be sure of Him.
My love is so very limited in its scope. God Himself is love; how can I expect that any real love would be comprehensible, reproducible? No, I think the only love I can have - for God or for my husband or for my children or for anyone in my life - must come by way of His Spirit in me, and I wonder if perhaps I will never be able to define the why or the how behind it all.
Today, I'm okay with that.
I'd rather be in survival mode with a little God-wonder left than fighting it out with the anger and empty I've lived before.
(Image © Informal Moments Photography)