Feeling Like Myself, but Hoping Against It

In the week since I posted last, I've had several really bad days and two great ones.

Thursday night, while Luke and I were watching a movie, I started to feel anxious again. My heart palpitated for no real reason, and I couldn't shake the sense of dread. This return of symptoms had a depressing effect on me as well. Since Luke didn't have to work, he took the baby and let me sleep it off.

Unfortunately, he worked the next night (Friday), and my concern that I wouldn't be able to sleep without his help became a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Every time Cami drifted off, I climbed back in my own bed, squeezed my eyes shut, and thought "Okay, relax relax relax relax relax." But, as half-hours turned into hours, I realized I couldn't unwind! Every few minutes, I'd go through a hot flash, and then my sweaty feet got cold due to the air-conditioner. Plus, I kept imagining I heard Cameran cry. Just before I'd cross over that line into "asleep," I'd get another wave of adreneline, look at the clock, and think: I'm running out of time before the baby will need to be fed again!

It. Was. Miserable.

That's why I REALLY didn't want to repeat the experience on Saturday night, when Luke worked again. But, worrying about it, combined with the fact that I was already overtired caused me to get even less sleep!  There were storms in the area, which have always kept me awake. AND, even if my exhaustion forced my brain to shut down for a few minutes, I kept waking again in no time.  By the time Luke walked through the door Sunday morning, I was frustrated to tears. I had taken a shower and begun getting ready for church because I HAD to get out of the house--but my arms and eyelids felt like lead.  Cameran was wide awake and wanting to be held, but I didn't have the energy to get both of us ready. So, Luke helped by bathing and dressing her, and then he sent us on our way...

I felt pretty low at that point. I kept thinking What's the point of this trial?! I feel like I'm losing my mind, and the Divine purpose is....what?!  

Of course, everyone at church gushed over how adorable my baby is, and they kept asking how she's doing. I answered honestly: "She's doing fine! It's her Mom who needs prayer." I tried not to be annoyed when some of the women heard me say I was tired and gave me knowing smiles. Yes, all new mothers are a little sleep deprived. But, not all knew mothers are awake 57 out of 60 hours. I specifically told everyone who asked to pray for my thyroid, so I can take advantage of the fact that my baby is an excellent sleeper... But, since I had been praying almost nonstop the last two nights, I didn't feel much relief even when my brothers and sisters agreed to speak to God on my behalf.

But then, at worship time, everything seemed to make sense.
We sang "Lord, I give you my heart. I give you my soul. I live for You alone. Every breath that I take--every moment I'm awake--Lord, have Your way in me."

I glanced a couple rows ahead of me, to a man in our church who has several disorders, including anxiety, obsessive compulsion, and depression. He had his hands raised and was praising God. I wondered how many hours of sleep he had gotten the night before--but I could see it didn't really matter to him. He was there, asking God to use him, regardless of the situation.

My mouth was so tired I literally had trouble singing the rest of the songs. But it was the best heart-worship I've experienced in awhile.  "I'm trading my sorrows. I'm trading my pain. I'm laying them down the for joy of the Lord."  Joy isn't dependent on amount of sleep. "Behold He comes, riding on a cloud, shining like the sun, at the trumpet call."  Celebrating Jesus' return with my brothers and sisters isn't dependent on amount of sleep.

As the service continued, I felt more and more relaxed--more confident that God is in control, not me. And, I also felt more tired!

When I got home, I put Cami down for a nap--and I slept for two hours myself! For the first time in over a week, the sun was shining, and I was able to appreciate my bed instead of fearing it. Luke and I went to the store later, joking and holding hands while we shopped, and I started to feel sleepy again! I've slept well both nights since, and I realized today I'm starting to feel like myself again.

I just pray I only feel like "myself," and that I haven't actually returned to being the exact same person I was before. I want to be a more positive "self"--smiling even when I'm tired. I want to be a more empathetic "self"--recognizing and feeling for the pain of others, like the man in our church with the anxiety disorders. And I want to be a prayer-crazy "self"--testifying every chance I get as to its power and ready to share the trustworthiness of God's promises whenever I can.