Monday, August 7, 2017

To My Sisters

I've wanted to write this blog post for a long time. I have difficulty writing or being public with things, however, that seem so special and important to me. I want to keep them close to my heart. I don't want to "cast my pearls before swine", so to say. Not that you guys are swine. There are few things more hurtful, to me, than sharing something I find particularly meaningful and having someone treat it with frivolity.

But the time has come! 

When Ezra was born I was overcome with a deep deep painful hopelessness. Maybe it was postpartum depression. Maybe it was sheer, unfathomable exhaustion. Maybe it was my already overactive anxiety. Maybe it was a mix of all three. Nonetheless, the first two weeks of Ezra's life I was in a place took me a long time to find words for. Nothing seemed adequate enough to explain the _______. I still don't have a word to fill in there. To the best of my ability, I would describe it, as the scriptures say, "the gulf of misery and endless wo." Never before had I felt something so devoid of hope. I've since decided that having a lack of hope is the very definition of hell. 

But then there were my sisters. 

I truly believe, to the very core of my being, that my sister Kirstin saved my very life when she suggested I take a Benadryl to get some sleep. I had not slept more than three hours (total) in five days. It sounds so silly to say out loud. But, that moment is when things started to turn around. Benadryl. A simple suggestion from a veteran mom. 

My sweet, angelic sisters. They sacrificed time with their families to come and clean MY house, cook ME food, watch ridiculous amounts of television, change diapers, lose sleep, love me, be my friend, and most importantly love that sweet baby of mine. The time they spent, during a time when I felt so removed from all sense of normal feeling, is sacred to me. I needed them, then, more than I could've ever expressed at the time and more than I can express now. They filled a role that wasn't theirs to fill--that of a mother, for a daughter whose own could not be there. 

I love them. Thank you Lindsey and Kirstin for teaching me what Christlike service looks like and imparting a small measure of salvation for my aching soul. 


  1. Just over here bawling now. That week was so fun and exciting (Thanks for getting me hooked on Parks and Rec) and yet at the same time I've never felt more inadequate realizing I could never even come close to being like mom. I love you so much. Thanks for letting me be a part of that special time.

  2. Love. Thank you for sharing. It takes courage to share such personal thoughts and experiences. My heart was aching/bursting for you having your first baby without your own mom to come be a rock/comfort/voice of reason. I'm so glad your sisters were able to be with you. The sister bond is gold. Hugs!

  3. We couldn't make up for mom not being there, but I kept thinking, "Okay, what would mom do now?" I'm woefully inadequate, as I'm reminded all the time, but it feels good that maybe once in a while I can be helpful. And you, darling, are doing a great job at this mom thing. I love you!