flying through

I wonder if the caterpillar, as she erupts from the hard shell, when her creaky wings unfold, the sun blinking in her flecks of pixie dust, does she think she might be dying? The wind sounds different now, lifts. Ah and that moment she realizes she’s been reborn.

These are my eyes, yes, the ones I used to have, but here’s new body, new perspective. I know I’ve been here before, but all I remember is that I thought I was dying.

Maybe its like this with all trauma, but when a woman births a baby, especially when she feels the pain of it all, the mind-stretch of war within, the quake of hormones, when all insecurity screams No, but then she does it, it’s like running through a brick wall and coming out the other side of it a different person. Who am I now? Erupted, a mother.

I think the brain must be rewiring itself. The body sending messages, new capabilities to nurture, to distinguish sound waves, to murder. Never are fears more confronted or heightened, scribbled or outlined.

For me postpartum depression is always a threat. I’m more prone. Even now 11 weeks later, it’s an option, but I’ve never stood this closely to it, clearly hearing the threats, the veiled invitations, without accepting them. After my first 3 babies, I simply woke in different levels of the dark place fitted with keys, all the fingerholds that fear had ever made were the keyholes locking me there.

When Titus was born, my latest, most beautiful trauma, I came out the other side of the brick wall a purified, bold-hearted mystic.

My words are wings that catch air. I don’t let my boys say things out loud that aren’t true. When I hear voiced lies, I make them voice truth. Words are swords of correction or fissuring arrows of destruction.

No one believes a thing unheard.

Just yesterday, I heard I can’t do this, too hard, too trapped.

Just as we have internal ears that hear lies, planting in us guilt or the fear of death and loss, we can also hear the voice of truth that speaks freedom and abundant life.

We can hear the voice of God. Acknowledge it. Only the fear of God is a tether of strength.

It’s one thing to never struggle and so to do well, but it’s another thing entirely to experience war and then the God who actively battles with you. I’ve never been more glad for the opportunity to hear His voice, how He comes along side me. Right there He is, giving me truth.

Even our Christian culture discounts the mystic for fear of charismania.

I’ve always referred to depression as the Dark Place. I even have a friend that asks from time to time, “How’s the DP?” Right now it’s a long hall before me. Discount me; I don’t care. I can hear God. I finally admit it, in this wind, stronghold at the nape of neck, flecks of light catching my eye.

I’m flying right through.

photo credit


  1. Powerful words, great imagery. I am shifted in my perspective. Thank you.

  2. I entered a deathly dark place after my first-born. The pressures of a job not yet ready for me to go on leave, where replacement staff messed up every possible aspect, and the pressures of being a mother wrapped me up tight in a dark cocoon and threatened to never let go. I am so incredibly thankful that the dark place left me alone after the birth of my second child this year.
    Your words still bring healing with them to a heart that has been bruised by it all. Thank you.
    Bekka recently posted..Missing Pieces

  3. Winston Churchill (though not post-partum) but depressed – called it the ‘black dog.’ The last nasty bout I had left me with this picture. Deep under the covers for several days, numb, tearful, fearful, shaky… with Jesus curled up beside me.
    I saw the ‘road’ we travel as believers…life, the journey from here to there… and I could not take even one more step, could not, in fact stay on the path. Sat down, collapsed really, on the side of the road, unable to rise, unable to walk or crawl or engage in any thought of the next move. Yet Jesus did not stand above me, urging me on; did not go ahead and call out to me to catch up; did not scold or shame me for my weakness; did not tap His foot impatiently waiting for me to ‘get it together’. Instead He quietly sat down beside me and waited. Never leaving or forsaking me… waited quietly in my space, His very presence giving me rest, healing and comfort, able to wait as long as it takes. There is a different view from the side of the road and I was never alone in my ditch and never will be alone there or in any pit, fire or flood that may come. Halleluyah… His faithfulness astounds me, His gentleness heals and assures me, His love > unspeakable.

  4. wow…..i can really relate, in so many ways. especially about the dark place. i’ve come to believe that whenever our lives seem darkest, that means God is covering us the most, and we are buried deep and safe within the shadow of the Most High.

    blessings to you.
    rain recently posted..soul walking on water

  5. “Erupted, a mother.”
    That is the truth of it – explosion – unprepared and yet there. he. is.
    Mercy. For all we can do is walk into the wall. Accepting. Dying. Living. Amen.
    Beautiful Amber, really beautiful.

  6. “It’s one thing to never struggle and so to do well, but it’s another thing entirely to experience war and then the God who actively battles with you. I’ve never been more glad for the opportunity to hear His voice, how He comes along side me. Right there He is, giving me truth.”

    This sprung stinging tears to my eyes. I’m battling, but I had forgotten that God’s there along side us even when we don’t want to look him the eye, don’t want him there seeing us in our weakest, darkest places.
    Elizabeth recently posted..full

  7. This writing of yours takes my words, my breath away.
    Jo@Mylestones recently posted..A Quiet Harvest

  8. Hi Amber, I am speechless… You really hit me straight into my heart. I am sometimes into this dark place and the only thing that makes me out of a terrible depression is my faith with God. Everything, I know I can surpass if I surrender it all with the Lord our God.
    Marquitta recently posted..How To Get Rid of Cellulite On Back of Thighs


  1. […] The Run a Muck. There isn’t much to say about this blog other than that I love her heart. This post about postpartum depression was the one that got me hooked on reading her […]

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