Testimony Tuesday: God, the Gentle Leader

Kaitlyn Bush • April 6, 2021

2020 was a crazy year for the Bushes.  We found out we were pregnant with Milo in November 2019 and nothing about him was what I expected.  I didn’t expect to be sick my entire pregnancy – sicker than I had ever been.  I didn’t expect to have my first child during a pandemic.  I didn’t expect to have to have my baby without my mom there.  I didn’t expect to be fearful that my husband might not even get to be there.


I didn’t expect to need an emergency c-section.  Milo couldn’t tolerate labor.  If I hadn’t had a c-section, who knows what would have happened to us.  After he was born, we were in recovery for a few hours and then they took Milo to the NICU.  He had low oxygen levels and needed to be on oxygen for 2 months.  This wasn’t what I expected.  The entire experience left me frightened, traumatized, and devastated, but I am truly grateful to have my son.

I didn’t expect to not like my son for the first 3 months. I had the hardest time motivating myself to do the bare minimum for myself and my son. I couldn’t breastfeed, between our NICU experience and my mental health it just wasn’t in the cards. I couldn’t bond with Milo, sometimes I felt like I was more connected to my pet than my son. Because we were in the hospital for longer than expected, Josh, my husband, had to go to work almost immediately when we got home. I was recovering from surgery and taking care of this new, helpless person. I hated it. I felt like Milo would have a better chance at life if I wasn’t his mom. I felt like all I did was cry and change diapers. I didn’t know who I was anymore. My life was completely changed, and I couldn’t handle it.


 I was mourning my old life, drowning. Everyone was so nice and so happy for us, but I was in that space where you know you just did something life-changing and permanent, and it was paralyzing. I didn’t want to share my feelings with my doctor, I didn’t even want to share them with Josh, the person on this planet I can depend on the most. Every appointment after Milo was born, they gave me these surveys to see if I had postpartum depression and I would lie on them. I didn’t want anyone to know what I was going through. I was so unbelievably ashamed. I thought being a mom was the most natural thing in the world and it didn’t come naturally to me. 

During all of this – healing from surgery, getting up every 3 hours, postpartum depression – maintaining my relationship with God was a challenge.  I couldn’t think straight enough to know what day it was, let alone to look for God in the unexpectedness of my situation.  It was all I could do to hold on to my favorite scripture: “She gave this name to the LORD who spoke to her: ‘You are the God who sees me,’ for she said, ‘I have now seen the One who sees me.’” (Genesis 16:13) I didn’t feel seen, but I knew that if God could see Hagar, then He could see me too.  I had to know God valued me, especially when I – feeling like I had already failed in every way as a mother – didn’t value myself.  


Now, Milo is almost a year old, the postpartum depression is gone, and I generally know what day it is.   I have learned so much about God’s heart for children and mothers.  I’m so grateful that “[H]e gently leads those that have young” (Isaiah 40:11) and He meets me where I’m at.  As much as I love my son, God loves him – and me – even more.  I don’t understand it yet, but I am thankful for the unexpectedness of my experience and I’m eager to find the ways God was there for me in my darkest moments.


Looking back, I wish I would have been open about what I was going through.  I wish I would have been able to listen to God’s voice.  God doesn’t work through shame; it wasn’t God telling me that I wasn’t enough.  But I was so afraid that me not being enough was true and if I said something then everyone else would see it.  

According to womenshealth.gov, 1 in 9 new mothers experience postpartum depression. If anything that I said sounds like something you or someone you know is going through, I encourage you to reach out to someone who can help; someone who can reach out to your doctor if you’re not comfortable with it and someone who can remind you that God sees and loves you and love doesn’t speak through shame.

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