Friday, February 10, 2012


I had awful post-partum depression with my first babe.  Fear and self-doubt shrouded the joy of new motherhood with their lies.  For months, I hid the misery until I couldn't stuff it anymore.  Then, tentatively, I started to share it with people.  At the time, I was attending BSF, the John class.  When I hinted at the torture I was going through, my discussion leader suggested I sing hymns.  That advice became a lifeline and in the dark of the night when the voices threatened to overwhelm me, I would go into the bathroom and weep and cling to those hymns as a drowning man clutches a life ring.  I would stand on the promise that God inhabits the praises of His people (Ps 22:3), and in desperation lift those ancient words.  And the voices would fade and peace would return and I began to heal.*

As I read Ann Voskamp's post for today, I was reminded of that time and of the wealth of truth and comfort and strength found in these songs.  Songs written by brothers and sisters of faith who struggled and ached and broke and proved the faithfulness of their God.

*Please know that I am not suggesting that hymns can cure PPD, although they were incredibly instrumental in my healing.  PPD is a serious condition and can require counseling, medication, and/or professional help.  Please do not hesitate to pursue such avenues.  There is no shame in seeking help.

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