Fighting for joy...

Well, Mary Adeline is almost 9 weeks old. I can't believe it. It seems like we've been trapped in a crazy time warp. Some days seem to drag on and never end... yet 9 weeks have flown by and all of a sudden, those delightful little newborn pampers are getting too snug. I hold them up to my face and inhale their sweet, newborn scent before I put them on her. I love the smell... that new born, pamper smell. The size 1's just don't smell as sweet.I don't want to forget how sweet these days can be... 

 Then she starts screaming... that blood curdling, colicky scream. We explained it away for the first few weeks, but eventually I had to admit it. We have another fussy, colicky, reflux-y, baby... I remember it well. After all, it's only been about a year and a half since I sat in this very same rocking chair, holding my little Elliot and feeling so helpless. I thought for sure that I had paid my motherly dues by dealing with one impossible baby... God knows I can't handle it again. Yet... here we are again.

I've been depressed. Depression looks different when you're a mom of three little ones. I can't lay in bed all day. I can't drink an entire bottle of vodka or take an extra valium. At this point in my life depression looks more like devouring an entire bag of chips while bouncing a screaming baby in my arms. I don't even like chips that much. It looks like wandering around the house aimlessly. It looks like    tossing a onesie in the trash as I save the dirty diaper for the hamper. 

I can mentally check out and just barely make it through the day. I forget to breath sometimes... but, thankfully my natural reflexes eventually kick in. I can forget to eat... that is, until I run into a random bag of chips around 4:30 in the afternoon.

 I can forget to talk to God. Forget to call and ask for help. Forget to pray for answers. Forget to put cute outfits on the screaming baby. Forget to kiss my husband. Forget to take pictures...
Forget to fight... fight for joy in the midst of chaos.

It's been the hardest pregnancy on me physically, the hardest delivery, the most difficult season I've ever had to walk through. My back feels like it's going to break in half by the end of each day. But then, I get a few hours of broken sleep... and wake up. Wake up to new mercies. Wake up to smiling faces. The great part about waking up is... that at least you must have slept a little. The precious moments when Adeline is sleeping peacefully are so much more glorious after the agonizing midnight prayers of desperate parents.

The Lord invites those of us who are weary... and burdened... and He promises to give us rest. I have been weary and burdened... and trying to bear it on my own.

About a weeks or two ago I cried out to God for relief. For wisdom. For an answer for my precious little miserable baby.

He has met me with peace of mind... with advice from other mothers who have walked this path. He has blessed me with help from my family and dear friends who have shown up at my doorstep with meals.
I have been desperate. Drowning in physical pain and exhaustion. But the Lord has sustained us and He has helped me to lift my eyes from my circumstances to see the beauty that is abounding all around me. These pictures are just a few 'bursts' of joy... Joy that speaks louder than physical pain or suffering. Joy that shines through the mundane. Joy that is worth fighting for.

Update: While speaking to someone recently about Adeline's issues... she strongly suggested that I go off dairy. Totally. It has been over a week and we have seen a major difference with sweet Adeline:) Thankful that I've been able to be disciplined enough to stick with it, which is quite the task for a girl that drinks heavy whipping cream in her coffee!
Praying that this will really change the 'level of desperate' around here... from elevated to normal. I could totally handle 'normal'.