End Of An Era

At the beginning of this project, I wanted to know the ‘new me’ better. It felt like post-natal depression has changed me in ways I didn’t fully understand and honestly, it was a little strange – I  wasn’t sure if I would like the ‘new me’.

But at some point between then and now, I have stopped thinking about the ‘new me’ as the ‘new me’ and now it’s more or less, erm, just me? Which is good because I am more comfortable in my own skin now?

Also recently while praying for wisdom to speak to three different friends in different crisis, I remembered this verse in 1 Corinthians 1:4 which says that it is God “who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God.”

I thank God for using me to comfort my friends in their time of need. If I had not experienced God’s comfort during post-natal depression, I would not have the gentleness and sensitivity to listen to my friends.

So it’s come full circle now – the comforted is comforting others. It’s a good sign of recovery that I am able to look out for others. In my email to one of the friends, I had this to say which is a nice way to end this project:

“Actually I don’t understand much about depression medically, apart from my own experience. Which was awful… and one of the events in my life with the most lasting impact, both good and bad. But i know that whatever we know or don’t know about depression, it cannot harm us eternally. It may steal our joy for awhile on earth but there will be an eternity of inexpressible glory and joy with God. Jesus triumphs over depression. He is our king and he will lead us home safely.”

More please, papa!

Not a day – or an hour – passes in our house without this phrase popping up. With a combination of hand signs (more please) and words (papa), Jireh uses it whenever he wants something fron us.

Sometimes he wants to read a book or sing a song again; sometimes he wants another hug; most of the times he is asking for his most favourite fruit in the whole wide world — a blueberry.

If he even suspects I am taking the blueberries out of the freezer, he goes into an incantation-cum-gesturing frenzy: “More please papa please papa please papa! More more more please papa.” So annoyingly cute.

And I would then try to say with a straight face while trying not to be tripped by said toddler who is now hot on my heels: “Jireh you have to wait patiently.”

Then proceed to calmly procure that blue elixir of life and present it to the hungry puppy circling around me.

Anyway I realised it is possible to say “please” without really being kind or courteous at all. And I don’t mean just Jireh.

Very often when I say please, I really mean “hurry up you are wasting my time” as in “can you do this now please?” Or “you are an idiot” as in “please don’t do that again” (eye rolling optional).

It’s more than manners that Jireh and I need to learn (though that’s important of course). It is possible to put on the best manners outwardly without our hearts ever changing. And no amount of “please” could ever make us right before God.

We really need a Saviour King to reign in our hearts, to conquer our kingdom of self, and to help us love others so much — enough so we would say please and say it kindly.

So while I will still be saying my please and thank you’s, I have to get busy with praying please and amen’s for God to help both myself and Jireh!

(It’s not a typo. Jireh says “more please, papa” no matter who he’s asking. It’s because we first taught him when Graham had the bag of blueberries, and it’s stuck ever since!)

to be known, to be loved, to be understood

Thinking about what I ‘lost’ as a result of post-natal depression, I inevitably mull over my friendships. Some of the hurts and questions still linger — and I suppose they always will, because who is free from relationship troubles? — but I really want to go beyond the “why didn’t that friend ever text me” kind of (silly-sounding) questions that, believe me, I have asked many times!

So here’s what I started with today; I started examining my heart:

Beneath our desire for friendships is a deeper desire to be known, to be loved and to be understood.

And then I prayed and read the bible:

I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father; and I lay down my life for the sheep.
(John 10:14-15 ESV)

Jesus compares our relationship with him to the relationship he shares with his Father. He says he knows us the same way the Father knows him (and we also know him the same way he knows the Father). Let that sink in our heads for a bit.

Considering he’s told Thomas “if you have known me, you would have known the Father also”, he is saying we are as close to him as he is to the Father with whom he had co-existed since the beginning of time — that perfectly infinitely joyful fellowship in the Godhead. I am amazed that he welcomes me into their midst to partake of their joy and unity.

 See what kind of love the Father has given to us, that we should be called children of God; and so we are. The reason why the world does not know us is that it did not know him.
(1 John 3:1 ESV)

We are God’s children when we trust in Jesus. More than a physician who makes the dead come alive, more than a teacher who enlightens those in the dark — God is our Father. His dealings with us go deeper than miracles and stretch further than knowledge; it is entirely characterised by love. And what a love it is that makes his enemies children! It is truly a love that surpasses knowledge. And I pray that I will be rooted and grounded in this love — what a wonderful security!

For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.
(Hebrews 4:12 ESV)

This verse tells us the word of God discerns our thoughts and intentions — it understands us from the inside out. It is a 100% foolproof lie detector. It more than understands us, it even exposes the parts of ourselves we don’t like to think about and hate to admit.

It might sound odd to say that God’s word can fulfil our need to be understood. But I am afraid sometimes when we say we want to be understood, we really mean that we want our friends to agree with us, even when we are wrong. If they disagree, we feel that they don’t understand us. In that case, we wouldn’t like God’s word very much.

Yet I have found the unique power of Scriptures strangely reassuring, especially in cases when I don’t even understand my own motives, thoughts and feelings! It unravels me like a mystery and that’s when I can really begin to sort things out.

***

Beneath our desire for friendships is a deeper desire to be known, to be loved and to be understood. It’s a desire our Creator has put in us and a desire that only He can satisfy. Only Jesus can truly know us, fully love us and always understand us. The next time I am tempted to feel self-pity for myself again, I have a lot to remind myself and give thanks!

The gospel way to change diapers.

Water play is one of Jireh’s favourites. I give him a couple of basins filled with water and some spoons and that keeps him occupied for a good while. He is in his own world especially when he is pouring water on himself (when was the last time you were engrossed with that?) and times like that I look at him and think: Babies are so amazing and he’s SO CUTE!

Last week, because I have changed his diaper just before we started playing (my faultless timing par excellence), it felt like too much hassle and a waste to change what actually was a clean diaper. Inspired by the story of how God chose King David, I said:

“Hmm you know what? Your diapers are wet only on the outside but they are clean on the inside. So we are not going to change them ok? And you know, that’s how God looks at us too. He does not care about how we look like on the outside — whether we are good looking, sporty or smart — he cares about our heart on the inside. He wants us to love him and love other people. Ok, so we are not changing your diapers.”

(Last sentence being said in a that-settles-it tone.)

(I change diapers when they are dirty. Really, I do.)

(Don’t get too worried.)

Thankful for eternity.

When I wrote in this post that it’s “life as usual” now, I almost wanted to rewrite it. Life as USUAL? Maniacal, yes. But usual? I left it alone in the end.

While I didn’t want to give people the false impression that caring for a toddler is easy-peasy (but I guess no one in their right mind thinks like that!), I didn’t want to sound like a depressed duck over here – because hey I am NOT depressed anymore!

And that’s the thing. Life with a toddler is tiring, exhausting, draining — or any number of synonyms you can think of as you please — but it’s NOT depression. So life has indeed, in a way, reverted to the usual.

A tiring, exhausting, draining usual: one filled with making breakfast, lunch and dinner, washing dishes, reading storybooks, changing diapers, grocery shopping, making playdoh, raiding (or rather he raids and I pack) the pantry, sorting beans, dancing and singing, disciplining, bathing, putting up with a earful of screams, cleaning up, making sure a little person doesn’t jump off the sofa as he tends to…

That kind of usual. And for that I am thankful.

Some nights I joyfully and proudly tell Graham what Jireh had accomplished that day. Some nights I scream murder. Some nights I just want to do my own thing and go to sleep. Some nights I struggle to find the words to express what I feel. Some nights we watch a movie and eat chocolate in bed. Most nights we still agonise over Jireh’s sleep (but that’s another story).

That kind of usual. And for this I should be very very thankful.

The danger in talking about post-natal depression is I could easily grieve and mourn over what was lost (and there are losses), lament over what could have been (a myriad of possibilities but none mine), and harden my heart for what is to come.

But I want to stop and be thankful.

To God.

For Jesus Christ.

Through the cross.

I am thankful that no matter what had or will happen, as God’s child, I can be certain of his love for me because he gave up his only Son to die for my sin!

That is his ultimate proof of love:

He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things?…     For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:32, 38-39 ESV)

Reminded by Weijun to acknowledge that while the past had definitely shaped me, yet it is over, and the present is what I can change, I am encouraged to examine the past without letting it hinder my future.

Paul also says:

Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.
(Philippians 3:13-14 ESV)

God calls us to be with him for eternity! And when that day comes, post-natal depression will be a forgettable blip in my short life on earth. If it had (and I hope it has!) caused me to trust more in God, then post-natal depression is a merciful gift from God.

He is getting my heart right with him and preparing me for eternity.

And for that I am thankful.

Hi I am Serene, who are you?

Last December I cried at a family Christmas party – really the last place you want to be crying at. It’s family, and it’s Christmas, and it’s a party. The first time in six years the whole clan was together and a really special photoshoot had been planned. We were told to be punctual so we could get a good picture before sundown. Aunties, uncles, cousins, nephews and nieces were arriving and catching up. How could you not be merry?

An aunty had asked me how is the new mum doing (Jireh was 5 months old then) — I could hear the carols playing, smell the roast pork in the oven, see the kids zooming around, and feel the merriment of everyone inside and outside — and I just couldn’t bear it anymore.

All my fears, anger, resentment, tiredness exploded and I might have cried more than Jireh did that night. Right there, in the corner of the front porch, at a family Christmas party. She turned me around to talk so we could have some privacy and my road to recovery began.

Oh it’s been one year but I will always remember Christmas 2011 — getting to tell someone that “I can’t cope!!!”, the kind sensitivity of that aunty, my forced smile in the family photo afterward.

I have since recovered from post-natal depression (mine was mild, nowhere near suicidal, thankfully) but some days it feels like I am still  walking in its shadow… (although isn’t all of life the shadowlands?) It has cost me something and changed me inside but I don’t know what or how.

Which is why I have decided to write about it.

It’s been a year and I think I am ready to do it. I am turning 30 next year and I want to do it. There could be people out there who could really use my story so I want to tell it.

And most importantly, I am a different person and I don’t know the new me. So this is my self-introduction.

“Hello Serene! Let’s talk about it.”

12.12.12

It’s our third year anniversary. And the three years are marked by:

1. We got pregnant. (morning sickness!)
2. We got baby. (post-natal depression!)
3. We got toddler. (life as usual)

And so we finally made it back to Dan Ryan’s for the first time since we held our wedding dinner!

Since it is our anniversary, I get to make the usually taciturn husband answer questions.

Name 3 things you like about me:

1. You care about Jireh’s sleep (because I don’t)
2. You take care of the house
3. You pray for me

Use 3 words to describe me:

1. Happy
2. Dedicated
3. Witty

What 3 things would you like to do together before our 4th anniversary?

1. Go for a holiday
2. Visit the conservatories at Gardens By The Bay
3. Go for family dinner

P/S – At 12:12 12/12/12 I was napping with Jireh.

It’s 7pm now and we are so beat that Jireh is asleep (his usual bedtime) which makes #3-3 above very challenging, Graham is also asleep (not his usual bedtime), and I am going to sleep (my ideal bedtime!).

the oven is hot and God is good

“Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. You shall love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your might. And these words that I command you today shall be on your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, and when you walk by the way, and when you lie down, and when you rise. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

(Deuteronomy 6:4-9 ESV)

Jireh loves to play around in the kitchen while I am cooking. Sometimes I give him a box of dried beans and some spoons, or he would push a tablecloth around the floor, pretending to clean it. I love that we have a spacious kitchen (old flat!) and that I can watch him and talk to him while I chop, cook and clean.

But one thing I don’t love that much is the oven right under my stove, right smack at… that’s right… Jireh’s level. He likes to go really close to it and stare at his reflection in the shiny glass door. Or he grabs the bar across the door and does some ballerina-warm-up-ish movements. It’s just one of the more fascinating things at his eye-level in the kitchen and most of the time that’s fine.

Except when I am baking… at 180 degrees! Then I put a rug on the floor, and a stool in front of the oven to block his way. I make sure he doesn’t wander around the oven because he might absent-mindedly back into the stool and crash into the hot oven. And thankfully, for some inexplicable toddleresque reason, he’s really good at listening to my warnings to not go near the oven when it’s hot. He even has this “oops-I-am-too-near-look” when I go “Careful Jireh”, then he carefully tiptoes around the rug and move somewhere else. 

So the other day while I was baking cornbread for dinner, we did this whole hovering-round-the-oven operation again. And once when he was really curious about what’s cooking inside, I stopped my chopping, squatted down and looked him in the eye: “Jireh, that’s HOT. It’s DANGEROUS. Don’t touch it ok? Can you obey Mama?” He did and went back to his spoons. 

Satisfied that he’s safe, I went back to my chopping. But I continued with another lesson I never prepared: “Jireh do you know why the oven is hot? It’s a warning for us not to go near it or we might get burned. God is so kind to give us warnings about dangerous things! When we want to do something wrong, he gives us warnings too. His Holy Spirit tells us it is wrong and helps us not to go near it! We should thank God for warnings huh?”

He’s not listening and I know that, and I always laugh to myself when I do one of these monologues. But you know what, I am the one who needs the practice telling him about God so that when he does listen and when he does understand I would hopefully be a faithful storyteller, teaching him to love God in all of life! 

how to stay married (II)

When you can see the sun, everything is clear as day.

I counted the nights that Graham couldn’t come home each week, doing the sums of how these hours apart would subtract from our marriage in the long run, one night at a time. So gradual you won’t even notice. And in the end we would just be parents, no longer lovers.

It was this anxiety, this desire, this covetousness that drove me to fight and quarrel with him (even though he does his very best to come home faithfully every evening). An anxiety that told the same old lie since the beginning of the world: God is not for you! You have to make your own marriage work. You have to spend time together to make it work. You are not going to make it like this. You have to try harder. You have to make it work.

It is wrong; I know now.

And I have to keep on knowing till death do us part, that:

God is for me. God is for my marriage. God is in my marriage. God wants my marriage to display to the world the loving relationship between Jesus Christ and the church.

The way, God’s way, is so simple, so clever, even a little cheeky. Spend as much time as Graham needs to spend with me! (Not, how can I get him to spend all his time with me!) Instead of counting the hours, consider his needs. Instead of satisfying my own needs, count him as more significant than myself.

Eureka. Joy. Grace.

A joy that comes from following my Saviour and not “saving my marriage”.

How to stay married!

A few days ago, our marriage was in a crisis. It had come down to this for me: Either you spend more time with me, or we are slowly but surely heading for a divorce! I was feeling abandoned, unloved and taken for granted — all because my husband wasn’t staying home, erm, all the time. I have a right to my time with my husband because my love language is Time ok! And Passion and Love swaggered their fingers before my dejected husband to back me up. 

Suddenly, I understood why people have affairs. Suddenly, a divorce sounds reasonable. I was disappointed, even grieving in my heart, that my husband had no desire to spend time with me. My need was not met. What else is there in a marriage?

Thankfully I am both a drama queen (in my mind) and the possessor of a goldfish-memory. By the next day I had forgotten my fury but I was nursing the hangover of my exaggerated overture. I began to consider if I would ever resort to divorce when my need is not met. After all, the need is real and so is the pain and disappointment when it’s not met. If haranguing my husband for more time together is sucking the life out of us, then why not skip out?

It’s not an easy question to answer even if I already had the right one. That marriage is to make us holy, not happy? How do I become holy when I am unhappy? What do I do now? Sure I could be the ho-hum classic cynic: “I am just not going to expect anything anymore so I won’t be disappointed. Or the matriarchal martyr: “I do everything for my husband, for this family, even though he doesn’t love me.” But those are dreadful in themselves. Blah!

So this may sound boring but I figured I will spend as much time with him as HE NEEDS to spend with me. (And of course I secretly bargained that he should do the same for me as well.) Quit the “why-can’t-you-be-home-7-nights-a-week” spiel and put his needs before my own! It’s starting well. It is kinda liberating when I snap out of having to meet every single want of mine. And remember what marriage is all about.