There I was, standing in the street, screaming at the other car, demanding the other driver get out of his car. . . . I only wanted to share the love of Jesus with him, I promise!
Actually, in all seriousness, I wanted to knock his teeth out for committing that egregious, despicable, heinous act.
He cut me off.
I mean, how dare he?! Who does he think he is?
I clearly had the right of way, and he just took it! I had to slam on my brakes just to avoid hitting him! I was right and I was more than willing to inform him, shouting at the top of my lungs, and saying some things that I will not repeat here.
As a man, I thought I could handle it. I thought I could get through it, but I discovered that I too was suffering during my wife’s postpartum depression.
*Another post written by my husband, Evan.*
The stress caused me to lose almost 10 lbs and gave me irritable bowel syndrome. It was the hardest thing that I have ever had to watch. Lydia was sick for over a year and even though my last post was a little comical, there was nothing comical about watching my wife struggle that way.
Just because my wife was the one going through the actual postpartum depression doesn’t mean that it didn’t affect me at all.
I remember the sleepless nights as I sat awake in our bed listening to her cry, feeling completely helpless. I remember the fear of leaving for work, never being sure of what would happen while I was away. I remember the desire to take away all of the hurt and all of the pain and deal with it myself, because that would be easier than watching my wife, my best friend, and my children’s mother suffer and hating myself for not being able to do anything.
More often than not, we treat grief like it’s the plague that we think it is.
What if grief is actually a gift?
I was scrolling through my Facebook newsfeed this morning, and I came across a picture my sister had posted this morning. One of my other sisters had gotten shirt pillows made for Becca and her kids, with old shirts of Harley’s. It’s no surprise that there were a lot of tears shed over the pillows this morning. Even I had to fight back tears as I looked at the picture.
Can I be honest? I found myself breaking down over the loss of my brother-in-law just yesterday. I thought about my sister and her children as they are still trying to work through their new normal without their favorite man. I imagined what it would be like if Evan were to never come home. I can’t even fathom it. What my sister and her children face every day is Continue reading →
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Even though it might seem as though you’re stuck in a Groundhog’s Day of yoga pants and messy buns, you can still look and feel like a million bucks!
It’s after midnight, and I’ve just put my third son back to bed for the umpteenth time. (By the way, what number exactly is “umpteenth?” I’ve always wondered this.) I’m tired. I’m really tired. I want to throw in the towel and go to sleep right now.
But, I have things I need to do. I’m going to get them accomplished and then go to sleep for however many hours are left in the night. I know I’m going to wake up feeling exhausted in the morning.