The Weight of My Suffering by Christi Boujikian Valleau

I got to a place where I could no longer bear the weight of my suffering. I called out to the Lord and he did not answer me. I felt abandoned and unloved.

Around 4 months postpartum, my faith in a loving God was seriously shaken. How could he leave me hanging like this? Couldn't he hear me begging him endlessly for help?? Just alleviating my sorrow slightly??? I was desperate for help.

Our new baby was struggling with GI issues. This majorly affected her feeding which majorly affected her sleeping. Of course this majorly affected me as well.

We had a lot of appointments, tried everything you've heard of and tried everything you haven't heard of to help our baby. At first I thought I could power through not sleeping. I had a more important mission to accomplish anyway, helping my baby to thrive! I couldn't rest while she had such a miserable life.

It didn't take long for that to catch up with me. Buddy the Elf was out making rocking horses after a full 45 minutes of sleep but I was out losing my mind. I didn't recognize the person I had become. I could hardly care for my toddler when the baby needed so much help but I could hardly care for either of them while my mental state continued to deteriorate.

I lost my desire to even live. I was just crumbling under the weight of this cross. And it seemed as there was no where and no one we could turn to help alleviate our burdens especially when the entire world was having a difficult time. I began to seriously dislike my baby and felt that I just could not be her mother.

On top of all that, I felt like such a failure that I could not manage the whole 2 under 2 situation. I knew people in much more difficult situations, how could I even begin to complain? If we ever had a spare moment together, I was crying to my husband in a constant state of despair and seriously felt like he needed to quit his job to help me.

It is sad to look back and see how far I let myself slip before seeking help, how long I spent gasping for air, how I had lost all hope but still tried to push through.

Even with wishing I would just cease to exist, I was still like, "Well maybe I have postpartum depression, but I'm not sure." Not to mention that my midwife told me I should get help at my six week appointment since the red flags were already there.

Finally after being completely broken by the weight of this, I knew I had to get help. I had to cancel my initial appointment and was not going to reschedule thinking that it was just meant to be that I didn't go. I felt pretty guilty investing time and money into myself when we were investing so much still in our new baby with no end in sight. Luckily the therapist reached back out to me and we did reschedule.

I just wept as she told me I had severe postpartum and about my "depression score". I wish I had paid more attention to those tests they make you take! Maybe I would have taken my midwife's suggestion more seriously a few months prior. She also told me that sleep deprivation is a form of torture which seemed to be the validation I needed in order to accept I had been suffering immensely.

It was so helpful meeting with her as she helped me pick up the pieces of our life. She knew we needed to outsource a lot since we were having so much trouble with the baby still. All of her ideas were great but I wasn't sure how we could afford them. Since I was finally taking well being seriously I knew we had to do something. We reached out to my father in law to see if he would be willing to help us hire a postpartum doula and a meal service which he was of course happy to do!

Every mom needs a postpartum doula, oh my goodness!!! They are true angels (and a FIL who will gift you one ). Maybe one day we will live in a world with adequate postpartum support 🥰.

I had a grand plan in place to have my baby "cured" by the time the doula's contract was up which did not happen. I was filled with dread but thought ok I should be able to do this now. Well that didn't work out and we were able to rehire her!

Finally one day after baby's 368th appointment (hyperbole!) and seemingly having exhausted every possible remedy, we suddenly had a brand new baby on our hands! Just six months later. I like to say this is when we got to really met our baby although we had caught glimpses throughout those harrowing six months (all of which I put on the gram of course; can you blame me?! I worked so hard for those smiles! We are still learning about and managing some GI distresses but much less debilitating situation!!!).

Just a couple of weeks later, the Lord would nudge his way back into my hardened heart... and he knew where to find me: the gram!!! I had spent the last couple of months giving Him the silent treatment, enraged that He had abandoned me in my months of great need. But I read these words from Saint Francis de Sales that delivered quite the gut punch:

"Do not look forward in fear to the changes in life; rather, look to them with full hope, that as they arise, God, whose very own you are, will lead you safely through all things; and when you cannot stand it, God will carry you in His arms.

Do not fear what may happen tomorrow; the same understanding Father who cares for you today will take care of you then and every day.

He will either shield you from suffering or give you the unfailing strength to bear it. Be at peace and put aside all anxious thoughts and imaginations."

Oof. The unfailing strength to bear it? This was something I hadn't considered. Carry me in His arms? I was beginning to think I had carried myself through as my prayers pleading for help went seemingly unanswered for so long.

I know I will be wrestling with this for awhile. As Jacob came away from his wrestling with God wounded, changed, I know I will too as He was there all along... I can now look back and see how I was in the very pit of lamenting as I angrily shouted to God for help. I know he gave me the unfailing strength to bear it even though I thought I had failed, had been abandoned. How he carried me in His arms when my hope had vanished. The grace I couldn't feel has brought me to today.

Comparison is truly a thief of joy even in suffering! I could never choose joy in my suffering since it didn't seem like I was ever suffering enough.

As I write this I'm just 11 months postpartum (and have been working on it since about 8 months postpartum lol) so I am just coming up from the ashes. When I think back to how we were living a few short months ago, I am in complete disbelief; it is seriously heartbreaking to think about.

Though I can now look back and see how God was in the abyss with me, this spiritual journey is intertwined with my mental health journey. This postpartum experience was truly horrifying and it will take time and work to contine to heal, and opening my heart back up to God is just a part of the healing process along with therapy and more!