(1/9) A Series of Loss

Everyone has a story.  Mine is not one profound moment that would normally draw people in but rather its a series of events. Small stepping stones leading me closer and closer until I finally decided to jump in.  2022 is a year I will always look back on with a dark haze over it.  It started right away on New Years day when I got the shocking news of a very dear coworker who had been murdered.  I had already been battling postpartum depression at the time and, in fact, had made it a new years resolution to battle the depression with diet and exercise.  Unfortunately after news like this diet and exercise take a back seat for a while.  I was thrown into a spiral of catastrophic anxiety.  I remember loading my boys into my father-in-laws car and watching them drive away with actual heart palpitations at the fear that I would never see them again.  Saying  goodbye to my husband as he went off to work might as well have been our final goodbye.  I was lost in the idea that nobody is safe from sudden death.  Two months later, almost as if this anxiety of mine needed a refresher, my uncle died in his sleep.  I heard the words on the phone but just couldn’t wrap my head around them.  How could this be? He was healthy and we had just seen him last Thanksgiving.  “It doesn’t make sense” was all I kept saying. I was terrified of who would be next.  A little more time had passed and the pain of those two losses lingered but I was able to move forward until I received my final blow; my cousin.

When I saw my mother standing in the doorway at 9:00 at night a hot rush flooded my body. Starting in my heart and spreading to my extremities. I heard myself asking what happened. I was told to sit down. I saw my mothers lips moving and the name John Paul. The air left my lungs when the news set in. Cyanide. He was gone.

I let my mother hug me for a moment but pulled away because curling into a ball was the only thing that felt right. Every muscle wanted to be contracting to lessen the pain. I gripped the couch just to have something to squeeze.
The thing I was afraid of for the past decade had happened. How is this happening? Didn’t he just send me a funny Snapchat the other day? Why would he do this? HE did it. It wasn’t something that happened to him.
None of that mattered now.
The fact now was it happened. The only way through this now was forward.

(2/9) Grief & Depression

I do not need to go into detail of my love for my cousin. The period of grief that followed will speak for itself.  Suffice to say we were inseparable in our innocent youth until depression took him over like a demon in the night.  He fell into drugs and escaped death so many times that I should have been more prepared for this.  But I always prayed for him.  I knew God had saved people like him and I could see what others couldn’t, the fact that God would not let him die just yet.  He saved him from multiple overdoses and suicide attempts.  I grew comfortable in the fact that God would never let him kill himself because He had a bigger plan for his life.  But here I am now listening to my mom tell me he is gone.  

In the months following his death I searched for signs of him.  I desperately needed to know if he was in heaven or if the nature of his death sent him immediately to hell the way Catholics are taught.  In June, I got what I took to be a sign. My family and I flew to his home to scatter his ashes in Lake Michigan on a beach he visited a lot.  A good portion of our memories together involved beach trips so the environment was fitting.  As we watch his ashes be washed away in the water his sister, Elizabeth, and I talked about shared memories we had with him.  One we specifically recalled was the hours we spent playing Mario Kart and the way we did not like Donkey Kong.  As we walked backed up the beach, Elizabeth noticed writing in the sand.  When we looked closer we saw in huge letters DONKEY KONG written in the sand facing the water.  We were shocked and amazed.  My first reaction was laughter through tears.  He was okay! He as in heaven and he was okay.  

The closure I felt from that day was short lived unfortunately. I went home and since it was summer I only had one of my two jobs to maintain so I had hours to myself.  I found a live stream on TikTok of a woman who would do bible studies.  The first topic of her that I came across was the topic of why God allows suffering.  I took it as a direct nod to me and I took in every word.  Then I decided to finally take the advice of my mother and journey through the bible.  It took me a year and a half to get through the Bible in a Year podcast but I did it. 

When I first started journeying through the bible it felt more like an obligation.  It took me so long because I didn’t want to listen to it everyday.  I had to force myself to get through these short readings but I did enjoy the discussion at the end of each reading deciphering what we had just heard.  Still, I was drowning in depression and grief.  Whats worse, I felt completely alone. I was home now, miles away from John Paul's parents and sister. The only three people in the world who understood who we lost.  My husband didn’t know how to deal with what I was going through and that led to a lot of arguments and tension between us.  My mother had still recently lost her brother so I felt she had enough on her plate.  Nobody else I knew truly understood what my cousin meant to me and how devastated I was.  Anytime I thought about reaching out to someone I felt like a burden. Even though logically I knew this was not true I felt completely and entirely unloved.  I never contemplated taking my own life but I could understand how someone might get so low and I believe if it weren’t for my faith my path might have spiraled there. Thanks be to God that moment was the lowest I ever stooped.  I was saved from that darkness by recalling a dream.  It wasn’t a dream I had in that time but rather a dream from months ago.

(3/9) Dreaming of Drowning

This dream came to me in January before my mother lost her brother and I lost my cousin.  It was the kind of dream that you know was important so I wrote it down: 

I was standing on the shore and I see a wave forming so huge that it’s towering over the nearby buildings. The size of it was so scary. At the time watching it build I had that feeling like I couldn’t move. Then when it crashed and was coming towards us (my mom too) I knew no matter how fast I run I can’t escape this. Just before the water hit us, I see my mom make a run for it but I know there is no outrunning this wave at this point. I know it’s going to hit us and I’m either going to make it or I’m not.  I take a deep breath and everything went black. Just as I started to question where the surface is, if I’m going to have enough breath to make it there, and if my mom made it away from the wave, I feel a hand in mine and it pulls me to the surface. 

It wasn’t until 6 months later that the meaning of this dream was revealed in the story of Peter walking on water. Not in my bible but in my son’s children’s bible.  The meaning of the story hit and the memory of that dream came rushing back to me.  This moment was the first of two major pivotal moments in my journey.  I realized that God was preparing me in that dream.  He was sending me a warning that trouble was to come but that He would pull me out of it.  He would not forsaken me. All I had to do was turn to Him, cling to Him, and never let go.  

(4/9) Thy Will Be Done

My walk with Christ picked up a little bit then.  And just in time too because not long after I learned I was pregnant again.  A month later, after my day job had picked back up, my Dad was admitted to the hospital and put on a heart transplant list. The weeks that followed were grueling.  I was sick, tired, stressed, and working two jobs.  When I wasn’t working my second job I was visiting my dad in the hospital.  It was this experience that brought me to my next hard lesson.  I had to learn to surrender control. I struggled with the phrase “Thy will be done” because I knew ultimately that was the case but I did not want to accept it.  I prayed tirelessly for my dad’s health all the while wondering what was the point if it wasn’t God’s will.  

By His merciful healing hands my dad did get a new heart and made a full recovery.  But tragically his brother, who had received a lung transplant earlier that year, did not.  He contracted RSV and passed away just before Christmas. 

Thus ends 2022 with yet another tragic and unexpected death.

This lead to a new sense of fear around my dad’s health.  I was constantly conflicted between shielding him from the germs my family and I may be carrying yet wanting to spend every precious moment with him.  The fear was all coming from that same need for control.  

I continued to pray. I continued to listen to my bible readings. 

As my pregnancy progressed, working two jobs and being a mother was becoming way too much.  Yet, I seemed to keep coming across messages of encouragement in hard times.  I recall a moment at work with a little girl.  Her goal was to be able to step down from a curb safely and independently.  I had her standing on top of a 10 inch stack of mats and she was to step down.  I wanted to be near her enough to guard but the girl was scared and kept grabbing onto me.  I told her “I’m right here.  I’m not going to let you fall but I’m not going help you. You need to do it” 

Those same words, my own words, came back and struck me in my heart the next morning when I was listening to my bible.  God was saying  the same thing to me.  He was not going to make this season easier for me because this is strengthening me.  But He was still right there and was not going to let me fall. It was an incredible realization. One that I kept with me to endure the rest of that season of my life.  Once I reached my maternity leave life was going to change for me all over again. 

Another reoccurring message I was getting nearing the birth of my third child was one that things do not always go the way we want them to go.  This message was a little unnerving to me.  I thought of any possibility surrounding my baby from the delivery having to be a c-section to possible defects.  But with each of those messages came the message that God will be with me.  

(5/9) Supposed to be

On April 14th I went into the my OB appointment for a routine ultrasound and check up. They found I had too much fluid and felt that with my gestational diabetes and the size of the baby it would be best to induce. Today. Right now. 

I wasn't upset about this decision in fact I was excited. I was scheduled to be induced the following week at 39 weeks. Only I didn't feel my diabetes was being managed well enough and I feared the negative outcomes of allowing the pregnancy to progress too far. The big worry being the size of the baby. We knew weeks ago the size was above average so I asked at 36 weeks if we could induce at 37 weeks at what is considered full term. At that time, they didn't see it medically necessary. 

I had just finished work and was supposed to have one more week off to prepare. I rushed home and dug out the old car seat only to find it eaten through by mice. This unforseen complication could have been dealt with had things gone the way they were supposed to.  The first of many “supposed to be” moments. 

Everyone who's been through it knows the pain of labor. But somewhere in the rush of childbirth everything became intense. The actions of the labor and delivery team became serious. There was an urgency to get the baby out and no time to explain. It was shoulder dystocia. 

Jackson Phoenix. The initials made JP to honor my beloved cousin and the Phoenix to symbolize beauty born from the ashes of the year 2022. He was born with the cord around his neck and a broken right arm. I later learned of all the ways shoulder dystocia could go, we got off easy.

After the intensity of that labor I was looking forward to the relief that comes next. But I wasn't met with relief.  Immediately following the birth, my legs were shaking and the pain of contractions kept coming. The rest of the day blurred by:

Jackson was being taken to children's for his arm 

I was hemorrhaging 

The interventions they were taking to stop the bleeding were painful and ineffective. I remember being in so much agony I wished I would lose consciousness.

Finally they told me they were taking me to the OR. 

I came out of surgery just in time to see my newborn off to a children’s hospital.

I was told they found my cervix was torn and once that was repaired they thought they were able to control the bleeding. My mother came to my bedside so my husband could go with Jackson. Seeing her by my side was the first time I let myself cry. It wasn't out of fear but rather grief. I remember just wanting to take a moment to cry for the way the birth of my last baby was “supposed to” go. 

Before I knew it, my time to wallow in self-pity was cut short. I was still bleeding and had to be taken back to the OR for a potential emergency hysterectomy. I didn't know what I would wake up to if I would wake up at all. 

By Gods healing hands I came out of surgery just fine. 

This time they were able to successfully perform the interventions they tried to do earlier to stop the bleeding. However in all of that I had lost over half my blood so I did have to spend the night in the ICU for blood transfusions and a more watchful eye than the labor and delivery ward could provide. 

While in the ICU so many of the healthcare team asked me how I was doing mentally. I guess they expected more emotion. One nurse in particular didn't seem to understand how I was in a state of acceptance.  I told her this isn’t ideal but I cannot waste my energy getting upset about the way things went.  My only focus was getting better so that I could be back with my son.  She continued to press with a concern in her eye. I told her about the lessons my Bible in a Year podcast had prepared me for. I found those lessons replaying like a ringing in my ear. Once she seemed convinced I truly was mentally okay she took special interest in my bible in a year.  Who knows how far that interaction went with her but I like to think if my experience could be used bring her on her own walk with God what an honor that would be. This same nurse was the one to greet me the very next evening when I was moved back to labor and delivery. There I was also reunited with my sweet newborn, arm reset and bandaged, after just one night away from each other. Now that my husband, baby, and I were back together I finally got the postpartum experience I longed for.  The nurse had me walk with her a few laps in the hall before she would allow me to walk around my room independently. I walked the laps with such ease she was in amazement. I still don't think I fully know what shape they expected me to have been in after what I went through but the nurses made it clear most women would still be bed bound or at the very least not feeling well for days.  But I wasn't. I felt amazing and was able to be discharged the next day on normal schedule. My husband and I left the hospital grateful to have our healthy baby boy with us. 

It took reflecting back on that day to really appreciate the peace and strength God gave me to get through that. Things did not go the way I thought they were supposed to but He was with me.

(6/9) Waves of PPD

The weeks following my postpartum experience were entirely different than when I had my first two boys.  For the first time, I had a physical reason to “take it easy.” Although my recovery was incredibly quick, I still was capable of doing too much.  I reverted back to the lesson I had learned this time around in pregnancy too; ask for help and accept the help offered to you.  For the first time in three postpartum experiences, I simply rested.  Knowing I did not plan on having any more babies after him, I soaked in ever newborn snuggle. I adored every newborn cry.  I didn’t even mind the multiple waking in the night.  The whole experience was different. It was peaceful.  

However, like clockwork, at three months postpartum the faint and familiar feeling of depression did begin to trickle in.  I spent a day fighting off the urge to cry. Finally giving I sobbed on my bedroom floor unsure why.  Whenever I am sinking into a hormonal-inflicted depression, the devil likes to strike hard.  I am flooded with self-doubt; hatred even.  I feel unloved, unworthy, unexceptional.  I throw every insult possible at myself.  This time I was determined to not fall victim to eating my feelings.  This time I consulted a doctor right away and got on medication.  It’s hard to say if it ever really worked because the depression comes in waves. I started to restrict my eating, increase my exercise,  and look more into self-reflection to improve mental health.  None of what I was doing was unhealthy but it was a lot to put on my own shoulders.  This was yet another time I was like a child of God who had been picked up and comforted in my time of grief.  Only to wriggle my hand free from him the moment I feel well enough to be put back down.  In other words, I still had not learned how to give these things up to God. I was trying to conquer postpartum depression on my own. 

I’m sure you can imagine how that went.  I managed two months of exercise, diet, and mental health podcasts. All the while, still listening to my Bible In A Year.  I had tried to start up a TikTok channel to motivate myself.  That was when I found myself caught in a trap seeking self-worth through other people.  Any positive comment or videos that got a decent amount of views boosted my confidence.  Likewise, any that fell short or got little to no likes would send me into a self-doubting spiral.  I still had not realized the one true opinion of me that mattered. 

Yet, I had enough sense to know part of my mental health was to grow closer with God.  I was viewing this endeavor as a whole body, mind, and spirit, improvement.  That meant diving into a christian side of TikTok, returning to regular Sunday mass, and getting deeper in my prayer.  It’s important to note that I talked to God all the time but I did not give Him my problems.  I wanted Him to fix what I was still holding onto.  I wanted to hear Him but I wasnt letting Him speak.  I so desperately Him to speak to me that I hadn’t even realized at first when He actually did.  I was expected and auditory voice but looking back, He was talking to me loud and clear.  

Finally, one day in church while praying, begging, to hear him I encountered a conversation in my head that went something like the following:

Lord, I want to hear you

I’m listening but I dont hear you

Am I really listening?

I guess I do have my headphones in a lot.

There usually is always something on in the background

Or I’m scrolling TikTok.

I cant give that up I’m trying to build a platform there

Yeah, I guess that hasnt really been a positive experience for me

I guess I use it more for distraction than anything else.

But I do watch Christian conten-

Okay. No more TikTok

(7/9) Be Still

I left church that day thinking it would be a struggle to give up something I spent every free moment doing but it wasn’t.  Days went by maybe even weeks and I never missed it.  Once when I dared to open the app again I did not enjoy what I saw.  In fact, I was bored by it and so incredibly grateful for that feeling.  God called me out on the blocks I was putting up and helped me step away. I just had to make the decision to do so.  They were merely distractions. If I really wanted to hear Him I was going to have to be comfortable being uncomfortable sometimes.  Masking a bad day with noise in my headphones was not going to improve anything. 

I replaced the time I spend on TikTok with either audio books, streamed TV shows, or exploring more the Hallow app that hosted Bible in a Year.  One of the shows I found myself getting into again was The Chosen.  Watching this show while on a journey to reconnect with my faith was a perfect pairing.  However, it was still noise. I was still putting my headphones in at every free moment. One day, while preparing for naptime, I had just heard a message about being still. The sound machine I normally used when my niece was napping here wasn’t working but I could use my phone. That meant not having my phone with me for the duration of naptime. I recalled the lesson I had heard that morning about eliminating distractions and decided to surrender my phone.  It was incredibly uncomfortable to be “bored” the entire time but it was something of a wake-up call to me. I ended up taking a well-needed nap during that time that otherwise I would have missed out on. Instead of scrolling, shopping, playing, or whatever else I do to avoid household tasks, I simply rested. After reflecting on the day and how I had been led to be still that day I happened to look down at the shirt I randomly threw on that morning and had been wearing all along. It said: Be Still and know that I am God. Psalm 46:10

(8/9) Seeking Without Surrender

Waves of depression continued to wash over me. In those times I fell into a trap of negativity.  This time, though, I was catching on.  The lies I fed myself were almost coming in subliminally.  Little flashes in a pan of “you won’t stick with this,” “you weren’t cut out for this,” and the big one “you love more than you are loved.”  This phrase is one I not only subliminally thought to myself but it’s also something I said out loud about myself. 
The Hallow app had a series of reflections on Mary Magdalen and her life.  Once I was prompted to reflect on the scene in The Chosen when Jesus finds Mary in a pit of despair and just claims her.  The thought came to me of His overwhelming love for us.  He claims me. He loves ME.  The narrator ended the session by asking us to reflect on what God wants to tell us. That phrase I often say came to my mind “I love more than I am loved.” The scene of Jesus claiming Mary in all of her brokenness and loving her anyway reminded me of God’s never-ending love and grace for us. That phrase I carried around for so long I was able to reject with a new understanding; even if that were true by all other humans on earth, it still wouldn’t be truth. Because He loves me. 

Somehow I stumbled on TikTok for some reason and just in time to catch the end of that same woman who led a bible study live.  She made a comment about the negative things we say to ourselves.  She said, “Those things are not from God and if they are not from God who are they from?”  The devil knows when to strike.  It’s either when I’m at my lowest in a wave of depression. Or when I am about to embark on something new and exciting.  Both times are when my confidence is vulnerable.  But recognizing those flashes of negativity and being able to cast them out is something that I strive for now. I give them to God and remind myself who I am working for. If my life purpose is about pleasing Him, the opinions of anyone else (good or bad) no longer matter

(9/9) Learning to Walk on Water

This brings us to this Lenten season.  As Lent was approaching I was tossing around the same ideas of social media or chocolate.  Nothing really sounded like I was doing it for God. They felt arbitrary. I wanted this Lenten season to be a journey even deeper into my faith.  While listening to a priest talk about this topic he admitted his tendencies to distract himself by having a TV show on in the background.  He might as well have been talking directly to me. There was my answer.  

So I did it. 

I removed the noise used to distract and replace it with readings and reflections from the Bible.  I have been following the Hallow Pray 40 series that follows the central theme of surrender. The repetitive phrase “Jesus, I surrender myself to you. Take care of everything” is said at the end of every session. I also repeat it multiple times in a day.  I have learned how to allow His will by adding “not by my will but by yours” at the end of every prayer.  I began a bible study with fellow moms to learn how to live my life for Jesus through the trials of motherhood.  And when I tried to think of what brought me to this place it was not one thing. It was a series.  God had been calling me for a long time I just wasn’t listening.  He was responding to me. I am so incredibly grateful for the ways He left the 99 to come after me.  I do not know what will happen the next time I am hit with a wave of depression or the trials ahead. But I do know now that with Jesus I am learning to walk on water.