Humh, where to even begin...I'm back from a blogging hiatus - not a hiatus I elected - but I'm just beginning to come back around. Come back from what you may wonder, although those of you who live by me and have come to my aid during these last three weeks could probably tell within moments of being around me something was wrong. At least, that's what I keep hearing from concerned friends.
In a nutshell, this past month has basically been the "lowest 'low'" of my life. And it's actually quite amazing when I think about it, because I made it an entire THIRTY YEARS before I actually encountered any difficulty that brought me to my knees. Jason and I always joked we were "waiting for the sky to fall" because neither of us had ever had to deal with anything very difficult: we found each other early in our lives (college); we have a wonderful, strong marriage, we have no trouble getting pregnant - pretty much the month we decide we'd like; Lucy and Jack are healthy, very happy kids, we've never lost parents or friends to illness or death; no unexpected moves; we've just never had to endure anything that would be considered "a difficult experience."
Until now...I'm just now coming back from battling some pretty extreme anxiety issues...I'll spare you the whole ugly story - mainly because it's pretty depressing and I'd really rather not even revisit those events, even in memory. I'd rather focus on the positive; that things are finally turning around, and I'm beginning to feel like I'll be okay.
The gist of what happened is that twelve weeks into this very planned, very anticipated pregnancy, I absolutely FREAKED OUT about having a third child. One day I was thrilled to be pregnant, planning a baby quilt, thinking about names, and the next I was battling multiple panic attacks, practically unable to take care of my current children, throwing up everything I ate (which led to a drastic weight loss that landed me in the hospital), sleeping less than three hours a night (for eight long miserable days in a row), and basically living in fear - irrational fear, but fear nonetheless. Yep, that's basically it in a nutshell.
Moms came into town to help, Jason took off of work to step in, I was an emotional MESS, unable to cope with day-to-day life. In football terms, I was the quarterback, sacked from behind, and taken off the field on a gurney.
There are a few theories as to what brought this on: I did stop taking a medication "cold turkey" that I was supposed to wean from - a side effect of which I've since learned can cause someone to tailspin into extreme depression; perhaps pregnancy hormones (although I don't think it's likely just that); I was sick with terrible nausea, all day, every day for over two and a half months; and after listening to an awesome sermon yesterday, the pastor's words, "Just when you think you've got it all together on your own, that's when God can bring you to your knees" hit a little too close to home, and really got me thinking. I like how my friend put it, "When you think you're safe, that's when you need to put on a helmet..."
I think it's probably a combination of all those factors, but the important thing now is that I'm on the path to recovery. My family and friends have literally kept me afloat during this trial, and I'm doing everything I'm supposed to be doing that should help things continue to look brighter. By God's grace, I made it through the "low point," and I know His peace will bring me back to health.
If I sound dramatic, forgive me; all of the details aren't relayed here in this post, so it may seem like things don't fit...I dunno...I just wanted to try to give a "cliff's notes" version...you know, talk about it, but not go overboard and tell you more than you wanted to know (I'm waaaay guilty of that all the time ;-)
But, should I come to your mind when you're praying, please do pray for me and that these "better days" will continue, that I keep putting one foot in front of another until this difficult time is just a thing that happened to me once when I was thirty...thanks...