The early morning light shines through my bedroom window. I roll over to hide my face from the piercing sun. I prefer long hours of sleep to early mornings. My husband pats my shoulder as he leaves for work.  He says, “I love you.  Have a good day. Oh! Someone is going to call you around 8:00 this morning. Here’s the phone. You need to answer the call.” I sleepily wave him away.

The dark brown hues on our 1978 single-wide walls contain no arousing effect. I drift off to sleep and I slip into a soft world that belongs only to me, my pillow and the soft blankets that surround me. 

I wake up to this distant ringing somewhere on my King size bed. I faintly start to remember Alan saying something about a phone call that I needed to answer this morning. I search desperately all over the bed in my sleepy state. I quickly find the phone and groggily answer the call, “Hello?” On the other end of the line is a chipper radio show host illustrating to me something about winning and a guessing game? My brain is spinning. Who is this? I have no idea what radio this station is. I am still half asleep. Things are starting to clear up a little bit.  There are a few chuckles on the other end of the line, “You have won Lays potato chips and several 2-liter sodas!” The radio announcer’s voice continues to articulate their words and he is desperately trying to connect to me. “All you need to do is say what your favorite radio station is? We gave you a  hint when we first got you on the call.” I counter, “97….” I hear snickering on the other end, “Let us help you out.  It starts with a 96.” I retaliated, “point one?” “YOU WON!”  The announcer yells into my receiver. He speedily gives me the rest of the instructions on how to pick up my prize.

    I hit the end button on my phone and toss it to the other end of the bed. I lay down and I realized I was just on LIVE radio. Embarrassment creeps across my face and down my neck. I lay down and take a few more hours to myself.

My mornings are my own and I have my routine that consists of me, me, and oh did I say me? The work that I do leaves me adequate room for scrapbooking, reading, cleaning, cooking, and watching TV late into the night. You have to remember this was before search engines and cell phones were available to me. I could describe life right now pretty easily: idle, lethargic, and self-absorbed. Time, schedules, and early mornings don’t really hold a lot of meaning in my life. I sit here on my couch waiting for life to come to me. No rules. No restrictions. 

Our first beautiful baby girl was born in July and then quickly incubated for severe jaundice for a week. My previous lack of schedule is now a world full of line-ups and priorities other than my own. Long baths, sleeping in half of the morning and pampering myself quickly falls to the bottom of the list. In fact I think it fell off the list completely. In truth my whole internal and external structure of my body is in complete shock.  My nocturnal clock has no significance in my life anymore.  

My premature baby is screaming throughout the night. She is not nursing very well as far as I can tell. Good heavens how would I know anyway? I have never done this crazy thing.  I’ve only watched calves latch on. The heifers would often kick at the calves because of soreness. I am not really sure nursing is supposed to be a human thing. I purely understand the motivation to kick the calf as I begin this long process of pain. Nursing seems to be an awkward set up of misfit pillows and awkward shaped boppies. I need a very specific flowchart to figure this out.  

My baby projectiles any substitutions to breast milk. She is not gaining weight. Months of frustration between me and my baby go by and there seems to be no solution. What are other mothers talking about when they say all their babies do is sleep and eat? I sometimes long to revel in the days of my own narcissistic behavior.  

I walk into my well baby check-up and the doctor takes one look at my child and I see fear written across his face. He motions to the nurse to run several different neurological tests on my nine month old baby. I instantly analyze the look on his face and the concerned glances as he directs the nurse in the room. Fear grips my heart as I cuddle my child close to me. The results are returned within 30 minutes of my visit. The doctor walks in and looks at me and says, “Good news and bad news. There is no neurological damage to your child but she is malnourished. Your child is essentially starving to death.” 

Thoughts of self-stupidity are running rampant through my mind. I do not deserve to be a mother because I feel like I don’t even know what I am doing. I sit in the doctor’s office with thoughts of helplessness and worthlessness. How did I not know?    

 Formula becomes the happy equation to success. She is growing and thriving. I am so relieved we have conquered this mountain.  

Toddler years seem to tick by slowly as we:

• Read books
• Play with cousins
• Picnics in the backyard
• Memorizing nursery rhymes 
• Travel to spend nights with Dad 
• Spending time with family 
• Cooking, learning, and growing 

While we are both learning and growing our family is expanding and changes are rapidly happening in succession. Another schedule is added to our routines. School days come and go.  Friends are made and friendships are dissolved.  She is trying a new sport and it is becoming a challenge because I have to fine tune how to haul snacks, diaper bags, younger siblings, and return home for nap time. I am rapidly finding out that I am not a very happy sports mom. 

Along with the dynamics of school and learning we are finding several new challenges that she is coping with. 

• Brain fog 
• Disconnect 
• Constant migraines 
• Learning disabilities 

I hold her and try to soothe her after she has thrown up all over the bathroom wall. She is able to sleep after the throbbing migraine has seemed to have ended up on the wall and partially in the toilet. I am not sure why she struggles with migraines? It must be hereditary. The poor little thing has them several times a week. 

Despite her challenges she is thriving on the swim team and the new move seems to benefit her. She bikes back and forth to school, the girls rollerblade around the neighborhood and we spend summer nights reading books on the cool grass after the baby is put to bed.  I have so much love for these little humans I can’t wait to have downtime so I can look into their eyes and almost touch their soul. Sleeping on the upstairs porch and reading Secret Garden to my children is almost like we are touching heaven.   

Currently living in Northern Idaho my husband is graduating and we are relocating to Southern Idaho. This is difficult for our whole family and it is especially taxing on my oldest daughter to make this change from the beautiful Palouse to the dry hot desert. She is leaving all of her friends behind. Together we hold on tight to each other and face the future together. We are learning that God is moving us (not literally! But wouldn’t that be nice?) and we are learning to trust in His plan for our family. 

Two months after we moved into our first home my daughter is in and out of hospitals for multiple surgeries and hangs onto her life because of a burst appendix. She has just been diagnosed with Celiac disease. We walk hand in hand with her and love her and we are learning to walk with God a little bit more everyday.  

Finally she is in her Senior year of High School. I tell her, “This is it! Your final year of school. Do everything you want to do. Sign up for anything you’ve ever wanted to do. Go out with a bang!”  She is signing up today for water-polo and there is a flier at school that is promoting a girls Rugby team.  Covid is still raging but she is able to do all that she wants to do this year. I am so excited to see her play her senior year. 

I receive a call during Rugby practice and she is crying. She says in a calm voice, “Mom, come and pick me up because I can’t walk.”  Me and my husband carry her off the football field.  The Doctor looks at us after he examines the X-rays, “your daughter has broken both sides of her ankle and she will need pins and screws on both sides to stabilize her bones.” 

At last, we are preparing our hearts to drop her off at the MTC for the next 18 months.  My heart is heavy as she sits in the back seat waiting to bolt from our gray minivan. She is anxiously awaiting for her life to start. This is the moment she is waiting for. I sit in the front seat and I am overjoyed to see her progress and I want her to be able to feel more of Jesus Christ in her life. I embraced her one last time. My 13 year old son yells from the back of the pile of suitcases, “See you later sucker!” She turns around and responds with a smile and a wink in her eye, “See you later suckers!” She is gone in a flash and I can’t stop time. I can’t find the rewind button on this girl’s life and bring her back for another hug. All I have is the memories. Memories of a newborn baby struggling to survive and thrive. Memories of her returning from Science camp with a camera full of experiences. Memories of us making beautiful meals together on the Sabbath. The dynamic in our family in the car ride home is changed forever. Even the van seems to feel the void of the empty seat. The conversation is lacking as her sisters show their own pain of losing a sibling. My son is overjoyed at gaining more legroom in the car and constantly wondering why everyone is so solemn. I quietly sit in the front seat and let the memories fall from my eyes.  

In addition to my oldest daughter leaving I am home and I can’t seem to turn off the leaky faucet. I sit on the couch and I weep. I am typically not a crier and I have never been of all things, “a weeper.” I have no other description to describe this day than a day of weeping.  Other people’s tears usually aggravate me if there is not a valid reason for them. I sit and I weep. What is this? What is wrong with me? I have come to the paradox of all paradoxes of motherhood. My children are leaving me. My first is gone and it will only feel like days before the others are gone and I am left to my own loneliness.  All of these years I have taken care, wiped tears (and other things), sat in hospital rooms, cheered on, cooked and cleaned endlessly. Who am I? I jump to extremes in my head. Do I sit and stare at my children around the clock and freakishly watch them as they sleep. Hold their hands tightly so I feel every growth spurt. Do I sit across the table from them and watch them take every bite of food and analyze their movements and thoughts so I don’t miss a precious moment of their lives. Or do I let the pendulum swing viciously the other way and start to tunnel my own way out of motherhood and become self-absorbed and focus solely on myself so the future won’t be painful when they leave me. When they yell from a dark underground parking lot, “See you later sucker”, I won’t feel the pain of my life walking away from me.

My husband walks through the door night after night, “Hey Dar, let’s go grab some groceries together.” The emptiness inside me is crushing on me. These four walls are starting to shrink in on me and I recognize depression seeping in from the outside. The feelings of isolation and loneliness are recognizable in my body from years ago when I suffered from Postpartum depression. I look at him, “I can’t go.” I turn away from him and I wipe my tears away from my gloomy face. I have always navigated my actions and thoughts away from the steep cliffs of depression. These last few months I somehow avoided the boundaries and warning signs and I have unknowingly stepped over my own dividing line. More tears drip from my long face and I am left confused and fearful of my own future. My faith in myself and my future has been stirred up and dumped out in front of me to analyze, ponder, to pick up the pieces and to make it fit again.

I know God does not want us to suffer alone and so I force myself to type out a text to a friend. I type out the words and then I erase them four different times. I wait and I stare at the text and everything in me wants to erase the words on my screen. I drive to pick up my son as the words on my screen are glaring back at me. I hate showing my vulnerability. I finally hit the send button. As I nervously look at my phone for her to respond I see a new message waiting to be read. I look and scan the new message and it is filled with love and support almost gushing out of the phone into my wounded soul. I don’t feel so alone and vulnerable in my thoughts anymore. I am able to brainstorm why I am feeling hopelessness and depression. I am able to allow myself time to heal and let the Savior’s grace envelop me. I write down three things that have brought me joy over the last few months. 

• Temple 
• Sugar-which comes with a negative aftermath but I will deal with the extra five pounds later. 
• Connecting with positive people that bring light and energy into my world

  I also look at what brought me joy before my daughter left to serve the Lord? Writing, cooking, and serving others. I am diligent about forcing myself to write five minutes a day, cooking beautiful meals and inviting others to join our family. I use the word force because there have been some days when I had no energy or care in the world to even move my body. I felt like the light and happiness had been sucked out of me. When I made a point to force myself to do something for five minutes it brought me hope. 

Take Away

• Write down three things that bring you joy.
• Continue to do the things in your life that previously brought you peace and personal revelation.
  • Scriptures, prayer, talking to a friend, journaling, meditating, temple attendance, and service. 
•  Talk to a trusted friend or family member, your ministering sister, or a therapist.
• Slow down and take one day at a time and begin your life again with baby steps.  

The right foods can be healing to the mind, body and soul.  Whole foods along with diet and exercise can enrich our minds and bodies with positivity and lessen anxiety. When we eat less processed flours and more whole grains it can help lift our mood and help with depression.

Here is a healthy whole grain snack that will bring a smile to your face: 

WW Chocolate Cupcakes

1 Cup (320 Grams) Honey

1 ¾ Cups (210 Grams) Whole Wheat Flour

¾ Cup (85 Grams) Cocoa Powder 

1 ½ Teaspoons Baking powder

1 ½ Teaspoons Baking Soda 

1 ½ Teaspoons Salt 

2 Eggs (room Temperature)

1 Cup (240ml) scalded milk 

½ Cup (120 ml) Olive Oil 

2 teaspoons Vanilla Extract 

1 teaspoon Almond Extract 

1 Cup (240ml) Boiling Water 

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees fahrenheit.  
2. Line muffin pan with 24 liners 
3. In a large bowl mix flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. 
4. Add honey, eggs, scalded milk, Olive oil, vanilla extra, almond extract and mix all together.
5. Add boiling water to your batter and mix together. (The batter will be thin. Trust the process! This is where the magic happens)      
6. Fill each liner ¾ way full and bake for 14-18 minutes. 
7. Let cool in the pan for 20 minutes on a rack. Then remove muffins from the pan to finish cooling on a rack. 

Frosting 

8 oz. Cream cheese 

2 Cups heavy whipping Cream 

⅓ Cup Pure maple Syrup 

1 teaspoon almond extract 

Pinch of salt 

Directions: 

1. In a medium size bowl, beat cream cheese for 2 minutes.  
2. Add heavy whipping cream to cream cheese and beat until mixture combines well. 
3. Add pure maple syrup, almond extract and a pinch of salt.  
4. Beat until stiff peaks form.  
5. Pipe or dollop on top of cooled chocolate cupcakes.  

Resources: 

https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/29189904/- resource for whole grains and depression 

https://www.mcleanhospital.org/essential/loneliness Resources for loneliness 

https://www.nhs.uk/mental-health/self-help/tips-and-support/cope-with-depression/

Medical disclaimer: The information on this site are my own thoughts and experiences. This is not a substitute for professional and medical advice. If you need help please consult a medical professional or healthcare provider.