Three Weeks of Hope

For three weeks between my first ultrasound and the "follow-up" which would determine whether or not I would become a full-fledged "OB" patient, I walked with a purpose in my step I had not felt for a very, very, very long time. People, even Christians, who suffer from chronic depression, have deep valleys which others cannot relate to. We have to keep going, but it's kind of like we are walking underwater with weights on our toes. Everything is muffled. In my case, motivation comes in fits and starts. I don't use medication, so I have my dark days. Staying in the Word of God, the Bible, is absolutely essential for me, yet I have always fought the demon of Lack of Discipline. When I try to fight that demon without Christ's overcoming, resurrection power, I always fail, pulling me further under. While I was pregnant I felt that God was reaching out to me across a divide of my own making over the last six or so years during which I had allowed various disappointments to come between myself and my Creator. I believed He was reaching out to me with grace and lovingkindness in giving me the one thing I truly needed...reaffirmation in my role as a mother. I remember looking out at the wooden playset in my backyard...now instead of reminding me that a precious chapter was coming to a close as my sons reached middle and high school age, that playset signified new life and hope. I thought about a few of my neighbors who had rejected me and my kids...and I felt God had given me the ultimate vindication...he had sent me another baby.