Friday, May 28, 2010


I haven't really addressed my religion on this blog and try not to make posts too serious or dramatic. I've had reasons, though none have ever been good. In general, I've always wanted to achieve a simple and light-hearted feel to my posts that might make at least one or two people laugh or at the very least, not have to think too much about what Im saying. Again, the reasons aren't necessarily good.  

Anyway, on the day we got home from the hospital with Beckett, I told Elliott that I felt sanctified to an extent for what I had just done. I had never physically sacrificed or endured so much for such an important and divine cause (and I mean the 9 months of baby carrying in addition to the c-section). Not that I felt as though I was transformed into this superior being who should constantly be praised--because I benefited just as much as anyone else did from the experience and desperately wanted and chose to be apart of bringing a life into this world. I simply had never felt so blessed and proud from having such a torn and expended body. It was and is my badge of honor. I knew that I was fulfilling one of the most important purposes on this Earth and thus felt closer to my Heavenly Father. It's that last part that recently struck me as to why I've felt conflicted in my life as of late. Nothing too serious and again, NOT PPD. I've simply experienced withdrawals from the spiritual side of my life that has led me to enter into a mindset of guilt. Guilt from constantly doubting those who have never ceased to prove me wrong. Guilt over those four-letter words and crude jokes I like to spout off no matter who's around me without a second thought because they've simply become habit. Guilt from letting sleep inhibit prayer and scripture study. Guilt from never truly paying thanks to my God for my son.  

I am attending the temple tomorrow. I am attending church on Sunday. They will both be for the first time in weeks. I have a lot to express thanks for. A lot to repent for. And a lot to pray for. I'm not depressed and I'm not being eaten-alive at night by my recent realizations... theoretically. I actually am literally being eaten-alive at night by the nursing Beckett. I'm simply happy for the motivation to improve my life that temple and church attendance provide. I know they are real. I know they are true. I know that I will be with my family forever now and in the hereafter because of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. So. There is no point in making that eternity anything less than what it can be.  


T and Jackie Isom said...

I used to have these terrible anxiety attack type things at night for the first two months of baby J's life. They would envelope me, and the only thing that really helped were priesthood blessings, prayer, and temple attendance. It works!

mommd said...

I love you. Thanks for sharing such personal depth.