The Oil of Joy for Mourning
When my first son was born, I was overjoyed to be able to stay at home with him, but I wasn't prepared for how quiet and solitary a life it would be. We had only one car, which my husband drove to work each day, so I was literally a "stay at home mom.” Ours was the only house on a commercial street, and we had no neighbors. No one stopped by to chat or invited me over for lunch and an afternoon of scrapbooking. It was just me and a baby too young to speak. As all the quiet and solitude soaked into me, I began to suspect that I might be depressed. Every time I read a magazine article or heard a special lesson in church on the subject, I examined myself, comparing my feelings against the list of symptoms. Had I lost interest in activities I once enjoyed? Did I sleep too much or too little? Was my fatigue the normal result of nighttime feedings, or was it a sign of a deeper problem? My feelings were never an exact match for the lists I studied, but my mind drifted back to ...
Comments
Post a Comment