Through the Valley

by Devan Hughes

I was raised in a loving and stable Christian home.
I was a well-behaved, well-liked, and high-achieving student. 
I searched for fulfillment and purpose through achievements and academic excellence. 
I attended church with my family throughout childhood, and I knew all the “church answers”.

Despite knowing everything about God, I didn’t truly KNOW God. 
My life changed forever the summer I was 13, when I was saved. 
I walked closely with the Lord through adolescence and into adulthood and through all of  life’s highs and lows. Like everyone else, my life has had peaks and valleys. But I had never walked through a valley so deep or so dark as the valley of postpartum depression….

At the time I was teaching 8th grade English, and while I enjoyed my job,
I can confidently say that no one is at their best at the age of 13-14. 

Although we’d initially planned to have a family,
after spending hours each day in the company of young teens,
Colby and I reached the mutual decision to be a child-free home.

Our plans were to travel, see the world, and experience life together.
We were excited about our exciting new plan, and couldn’t wait to see where life took us. 
We were not prepared for where life took us a few months later.

On Valentine’s Day 2016, I found out I was pregnant.
My immediate reaction was shock, followed closely by the crushing weight of devastation. 
I was embarrassed and ashamed of my feelings, but my feelings didn’t change.
Our families were thrilled - the first grandchild on both sides!!

Colby accepted that God had other plans for us.
As for me, I was the most miserable I had ever felt.

I tried to force myself to be joyful for this unplanned pregnancy, but there was no joy in my heart.

At the time, I was working closely with a woman ten years older who was undergoing fertility treatments.
Despite my efforts to seem happy, the truth of my devastation and misery was easy to read. In her brokenness, she said to me one day, You should be grateful you can even get pregnant. She wasn’t rude or hurtful in her tone. She said it in an attempt to encourage me. But those words crushed me.

I wanted to want this baby. I wanted to feel excitement over this new life. But I didn’t.
And acknowledging those feelings added shame to the devastation I was already drowning in.

There are women who have lost a pregnancy, women who have lost a child, women who are longing for a child, women who would give anything for an unplanned pregnancy…and then there was me, pregnant and devastated. I know I’ve used that word ‘devastated’ a lot-but I just can’t find enough words to convey the depth of the misery I was living in.

I never want to sound callous to those women who are hurting, but I want to be honest about my story because the Lord did a work in me, and as the Psalmist says, “let the redeemed of the Lord say so.” The only story I have is my own, and if your story looks like, or turns out to look anything like mine, I want you to know that you are not alone.

I was walking in the first part of John 10:10. 
The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. 

I was unable to see the promise in the second part of that verse: 
I have come that they may have life, and have more abundantly

We were living in Beaumont at the time and I began to notice a darkness in our home,
a dark presence that unsettled my spirit. Colby never felt what I described,
but he took me seriously, and we prayed in and over our home.

A few months later, life brought us back to Orangefield.
I continued to feel a dark presence looming even after moving homes.
We prayed over every room, but I still felt oppressed by a darkness I couldn’t seem to escape.

I finally opened up about my feelings and lack of attachment to my baby at a doctor’s appointment.
I was told what I had heard from so many others:
Just wait until you hear the heartbeat.
Just wait until you find out the gender.
Just wait until you feel him move.
Just wait until he is born.
Just wait.

Leif was born in October. 
After all of that waiting, I felt…nothing, but mild disgust.

I had heard from several people, including my doctor, “you’ll be surprised by how quickly those maternal feelings come!” Except they didn’t…I decided to act how I thought I should and carry on.

Internally, I felt like a failure.

The enemy used my shame to keep me silent and therefore keep me captive.

At my six week appointment, I told my doctor I was so desperately sad, in hopes of being validated and receiving guidance. I was told that my feelings were normal, the baby blues are common, it should pass soon…and again, just wait.

I waited and waited. My feelings didn’t improve, they worsened. 

I privately believed it was just me. I was the problem. I was simply a defective mother.

Colby worked full-time and went to school in the evenings. My parents worked, Colby’s parents worked, my siblings and Colby’s siblings were in college, and while it was obvious that I had not transitioned gracefully into motherhood, my family didn’t know my full feelings. I felt totally isolated and stuck in a fog. 

I was at home, alone, all day, with a screaming baby who never slept, that I had no attachment to and no affection for, while other women my age furthered careers, traveled, had adventures - my planned life.

I was miserable, ashamed, isolated, and resentful….

Colby did ask if I thought I might have depression, but I thought my doctor would have caught it.

I didn’t want to admit it to myself either. 
My natural disposition has always been so cheerful.
I couldn’t have depression….my doctor said this was normal.

So denial moved in alongside misery, shame, isolation, devastation, and resentment.

 I am an extrovert, and the lack of adult interaction made me desperate for connection.
I was so desperate I sought out a penpal. Writing letters was a hobby I had enjoyed in middle school and high school, but I hadn’t had a penpal in years. I decided to give it another try, and was matched with a young woman in Germany called Rike. 

While writing to Rike was helpful in meeting my need to have adult interaction,
it didn’t create any more of an attachment to my baby.
I was still fighting an ever-intensifying battle.

I wrestled with the desire to harm my baby at least once a day for five months.

The enemy had convinced me that I was alone and I needed to keep quiet about it.

Every time I ran a bath for my baby, I asked someone to help…
not because I couldn’t bathe him, but because every time I ran bath water,
I was seized by the intense desire to hold him under.

Every time I was using a knife to prepare a meal,
I would look at my baby and think about how I could end it all. 

Every time I sat in bed looking at my screaming baby, whom I had no desire to comfort,
I would eye the pillows and sometimes even pick one up. I would think to myself,
I am not a person of much physical strength… but I could smother a baby.

The hospital informs new parents of ‘Safe Haven’ laws, which state we have
60 days to drop-off a baby to a fire station, no questions asked.

If I hadn’t been certain Colby would leave me over it,
I would have let someone else raise him.
Because I had no interest in it.

In my deepest, darkest valley.
In the most desperate time of my life. 
Maw Maw became my saving grace.

My Maw Maw was her own woman. 
She wore what she wanted, said what she wanted,
bought what she wanted, and ate what she wanted.

While I realize this makes her sound like she would be incredibly selfish, that couldn’t be farther from the truth. Because her wants so closely reflected the heart of Jesus. She was a mother to the orphan, she fed the hungry, she cared for the broken-hearted and the down-trodden. She loved with a fierceness that’s not the norm. She was the hands and feet of Jesus.

I remember a day that I was looking at my baby, holding a pillow, and crying.
I was crying because I didn’t have enough fight left in me to stop the familiar urge to smother my own child. I didn’t feel like myself in any way. And I hadn’t for months. I felt like I was trapped inside my body with a crazy person bent on harming my baby, and the crazy person was driving…. I couldn’t fight it any more. And I just wanted this baby gone…and then I heard the door.

Maw Maw walked in unannounced and uninvited and said, Bring me that sweet potato.

She did this on other occasions.
If she wanted to visit, she WAS coming over, ready or not.
She just showed up and loved us.

I believe that the Holy Spirit led her to me that day.

I’d like to believe I would never have actually gone through with it,
but thanks to Maw Maw I’ll never know.

Finally, when Leif was five months old, I felt the fog lifting.
I didn’t feel like myself, but I no longer felt like I was drowning.
Soon after the fog began to clear, Maw Maw got sick and ten days later she was gone.

And I was consumed by a new emotion - grief.

I raged at God. My spirit screamed, I’ve had MONTHS of nothing but bad days, but this is the worst day yet.
I knew I would lose her one day but how could you take her when I have never needed her more?

I struggled and muddled through the next year, my first one without Maw Maw. 

When Leif was close to a year and a half old, I could finally say I loved my baby.

This is the first photo that I took of us. 
The first photo not taken by someone else, saying “smile!”
The first time I felt my heart melt a little for my baby, Leif.

Throughout this time I had grown closer to Rike, my penpal.
Our conversations were full of discussions about life, hobbies, and faith.
She became a very dear friend and even traveled to visit us twice!

As we talked, I remembered my penpal from highschool and some of our talks.
My highschool penpal (Emma from the U.K), had described the faith climate in Europe as dead.
Churches were more like museums.
My heart broke at those words.
I began to pray for revival in Europe.

Life moved on, Emma and I fell out of touch, and my prayer for Europe was forgotten about. Talking with Rike reminded me of my former prayer for Europe, and I began to actively pray again for revival in Europe.

In 2018, I found myself unexpectedly pregnant again.

I was determined that this time it would be different.
I wouldn’t let myself feel like I did the first time.
I WOULD be joyful. Except I wasn’t.

Almost as soon as I realized I was pregnant, I felt miserable.
It wasn’t a pleasant feeling, but it was familiar….

At my confirmation appointment, my doctor was called away so I saw a nurse practitioner, a woman called Bobbi Holder. When she asked about my concerns, I told her I feared feeling like I did with Leif.

She sat down and asked me to elaborate. After answering some probing questions, she informed me that she was immediately sending me for a mental health evaluation. She was confident I had suffered through postpartum depression, but she feared mine was quite severe, and she wanted me to see a mental health professional to confirm and advise treatment. I asked her if I should switch doctors, and she supported that decision, so I became a patient of Dr. Deborah Sherman.

Bobbi Holder sent to me to therapy with Jenny Broaddus.
In my evaluation with Jenny I was diagnosed with Peripartum Depression,
something I had never heard of.

From what I understand, Peripartum Depression is pregnancy-induced depression;
it is my body’s response to pregnancy.

20% of women will have postpartum depression, although this percentage is suspected to be higher due to so many women suffering in silence. However, the majority of those women had mentally-normal pregnancies.

7% of women have Peripartum, and of those, 100% will have Postpartum Depression. Jenny charted my symptoms on a postpartum depression graph in my evaluation. It was more severe than standard PPD, and bordering on Postpartum Psychosis. She informed me that it returns with each pregnancy, and increases in severity each time.

We were advised and strongly encouraged that this pregnancy needed to be our last.
Because our children weren’t safe around me.

While it was a hard decision, and one that we prayed over,
Colby and I felt it best to heed the advice of the professionals. 

We went from not wanting to have children to grieving not being able to have more.

Through Jenny’s counseling and guidance I eventually ended up medicated during pregnancy. Dr. Sherman personally called to ensure I was taking my medications. I had a team of women with the knowledge and the tools to help me through this. This time would be different, I was sure.

Through consistent meetings with Jenny, I realized the dark presence I had felt in our Beaumont home and again when we moved, was the demon of my own depression. 

I knew the only place to go to find freedom was to my knees.

I look back now at my prayer journal and see my desperate call to the Lord.

• I prayed for mental healing. I believed He could take away the impending depression. 

• I prayed for my new baby’s  temperament, thinking the bond may come quicker with an easy baby.

• I prayed for the bond of siblings to be strong, especially since they will only have each other.

In March of 2019, Isaac was born and was an easy, dream baby, just like I prayed for!
Yet, there was still no bond or attachment. It was just like last time….
Even medicated, I felt waves of sadness. 

One evening we were over at my parents, and some friends had come over to see Isaac.

I couldn't stop crying. I tried SO hard to hold it together, and be a functioning mother,
but gasping sobs forced their way out. Eventually my mom suggested that I lay down and rest.

I went to my brother’s room, but couldn’t rest. I wasn’t even sleepy, Isaac let me get good sleep.
But I was so overwhelmed, so disappointed that this time wasn’t different.
I felt like I was the only one, and I thought to myself,
Maybe I’ll take this to an online Moms group.

I felt the Holy Spirit say, Are you ready to take this to me?

I tossed my phone down, rolled off my brother’s bed, and kneeled beside it. 
I tried to pray, but my emotions were heavy and my tears so thick that all I could get out was
Jesus.

I felt my Spirit praying, Take this from me, Lord.
I felt Him reply, I am with you.

Again, I begged, Please take this from me…
The Holy Spirit replied, I am with you…

God didn’t heal me, but He held me.

He held me so tenderly on the floor of my brother’s room.
He had been walking with me through the valley. 
He saved my babies repeatedly.
He sent MawMaw to us. 
He held us.

I reflected in that moment on the floor and thought about the song, Surrounded.
It may look like I’m surrounded, but I’m surrounded by you.

As a former English teacher and lover of literature,
two Corrie Ten Boom (author of The Hiding Place) quotes came to mind:

• Every experience in life is the perfect preparation for a future only He can see.

• There is no pit so deep, that God's love is not deeper still.

I prayed, I don’t like this, but I believe that you are going to use it.
I can’t see my future, but You can.

It was hard to see then how God could use my homicidal depression, but I trusted that He would.
About a month later, I felt the medicine kick in and take hold.
I was thankful for the medicine,  but still wished God had healed me.

Meanwhile, Rike and I started our own book club since we couldn’t travel due to Covid.
We read “Redeeming Love” which opened doors for us to talk deeply about God’s love for us.

Rike asked one day, What do you mean when you say ‘saved’?

As I explained salvation to her, she listened intently, nodding along.
I asked her if she could say that she was saved?

I don’t remember her exact words,
but she said something to the effect of:

Your friendship has changed my life.
I pray more than I ever have.
I thought I knew the Lord when we first met,
but now I know with confidence that I am saved.

That moment with Rike was emotional and I thought back to my prayers for Europe. 

I always expected and hoped that we would live abroad one day and spread the gospel;
this is not how I expected revival in Europe to start. BUT it has to start somewhere!

The Gospel was met with joyful acceptance in Europe that day. 

And Rike, my friend, became my sister in Christ. 

I prayed for revival of a country, but God wanted revival in an individual first.
I don’t know what will happen in Europe, but I know that
He is able, and His word will not return void.

In that mountain-top moment, I reflected on how we came to meet. My desperation for adult interaction while in the trenches of Postpartum Depression drove me to seek out a penpal.

God knew the valley I was going to face. 
God knew how desperate I would be. 
God led me right to Rike.

I had forgotten my prayer for revival in Europe. He never did.

I saw how He had been working all along.

• I saw that my worst day on this earth was Maw Maw’s best day.
  She stepped from the troubles and pain of this life, and into the arms of the Savior.
  God didn’t take Maw Maw from me, He allowed her to live long enough to keep Leif safe.

• I remembered how I wished God had answered my prayers for mental healing….
  God led me to Bobbi Holder, Deborah Sherman, and Jenny Broaddus.
  They were answered prayers.

• I saw that God answered my prayer for a sweet tempered baby. 

• I saw that God was working and creating a special bond of brothers.

Looking back, I can see things more clearly. 

I don’t believe that the Lord gave me Peripartum and Postpartum Depression.
He allowed me to face the demon of depression and walk through that valley for His glory.

He took what the enemy meant for evil and He truly turned it for good.

In studying for a message that I gave at a women’s conference,
I read that ash is one of the best fertilizers for growth. 
Some may say that ash enhances life. 

I felt like my spirit was in ashes, but God made beauty from those ashes.
He brought life fully and abundantly, just like He promised.

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy;
I have come that they may have life,
and have it more abundantly.
John 10:10

The enemy came to steal and kill twice.
I have seen the difference between PPD with and without help.
I have faced the enemy and his evil plan with and without help.

Mental health is important
Mental illness is real
Depression can be crippling
Being a Christian does not make you immune to it
Seeking help does not make you weak

I am worth more to my kids when I am sane,
I am a better wife when I am whole,
and I can do more for the Kingdom when I am healthy.

Walking through depression and new motherhood, I gained insight and perspective I never would have gained otherwise. As someone with high standards in all areas of life I often struggle with grace. I have a hard time accepting it has been given to me because I seldom extend it to myself. Therefore, every slip and stumble in my walk of faith leaves me feeling like a monumental failure.

Yet, watching Leif learn to walk gave me a glimpse of the way the Lord feels about me. When Leif learned how to walk, I KNEW he was going to fall. I wasn’t waiting to swoop down and punish him for falling; I knew he was going to fall. I rejoiced in the steps he took, just like the Lord rejoices in the steps we take.

As someone who struggles with grace, I also would not call myself overly compassionate. My capacity for compassion has deepened. Every now and then, there’s a horrible story about a woman who’s done something tragic to her children. I will never hear that and think, what a monster. I hear stories like that and my heart breaks…it was her, but it could’ve been me. And I know the nightmare she’s been living in.

Lastly, and perhaps sweetest of all, I experienced the quiet strength of women.
I experienced the community of women holding each other up and bearing each other’s burdens.
I see now that I was never alone. I had Bobbi Holder, Jenny Broaddus, and Dr. Sherman. 
I had my mother, mother-in-law, and Maw Maw.
I had women in the church praying.

You are not alone. 

It’s time to share your struggle. 

Are you ready to take it to Him?