While a wife may assume that her body is less attractive to her husband after having children, this husband explains why the postpartum body is something to be treasured.

Postpartum depression can feel like a crushing darkness with no end in sight. Here’s hope and encouragement from a mom on the other side.

We may not be able to change some aspects of our postpartum bodies, but the gospel can change how we think about them and help us embrace intimacy with our husbands.

Editor’s Note: This article addresses struggles and tensions that can arise, even in otherwise "healthy" marriages. Its encouragements are best read with discernment and consideration of your unique situation. If abuse (physical, emotional, or sexual) or other illegal or illicit behavior is occurring in your marriage, please tell someone and reach out for counsel and/or professional intervention. 

There’s good news for our postpartum bodies—we can look to Christ, not the mirror, to see what really makes us beautiful.

The world expects us to use our pregnancy and childbirth decisions to fight our way to the top and revel in our own glory. But all of it—from conception to growing belly to crowning head—was designed to display the radiance of Jesus. He’s our only boast in childbirth.

We’ve all likely registered for baby items that turned out to be non-essentials—those cute, but ultimately unhelpful, items we didn’t really need. We can do the same thing in our parenting process; what do we truly need to raise children up in the Lord?

In the midst of dark storms like postpartum depression, a scary medical diagnosis, or shepherding a rebellious child, we can cling to these truths: Jesus understands us, he prays for us, and he will never fail or leave us.

Our culture celebrates self-sufficiency—the belief that we don’t need anyone to make it in this life. But when we accept help, it allows others to serve God and exemplify Christ who willingly laid down his life for his friends.

“My beautiful daughter was born almost a year ago. When I look at her, I feel the immense joy that comes from parenting a little one so dependent on me, a reminder of my dependence on Jesus alone. However, my joy in parenting did not come quickly or easily.

Within a few days of my daughter’s birth, I knew something was very wrong with me. I felt far away from everyone around me, even the baby I nursed and rocked gently in my arms. Postpartum depression, anxiety, and panic attacks struck me hard and fast.

I felt lost in a lonely world without warmth or joy.

During a Bible study on the book of Romans, a friend reminded me sin affects every area of our lives. My brain went haywire not because of personal weakness, but because we’re fallen people living in a fallen world in desperate need of a Savior.

God faithfully reminded me the world can’t and won’t be perfect. But God makes his presence known in the darkest places because he is the God of light, and his salvation through Jesus shines brighter than any dark place our bodies and minds bring us.

We serve a great God who sees time from the very beginning to the very end. Even the most hidden thoughts of my heart—those scary, terrifying, anxious thoughts—are under God’s mighty and compassionate care. God can still the racing thoughts of our hearts, and heal every recess of our broken minds. We know Jesus will return and establish his kingdom over all the earth, and the world will be beautiful, whole, and perfect forever.

No matter how motherhood challenges you, Jesus will shine light into your darkness and pull you out of the pit in which you are faltering—with strength, power, and the tender care of a mom holding her baby in her arms for the first time.”

Today’s article from Hannah Abrahamson discusses PPD. While we believe the gospel provides hope to women suffering from PPD, this topic requires sensitivity. We encourage anyone who is experiencing PPD to seek additional counsel from a trusted pastor, licensed counselor, or medical doctor.

“It was one of my first ventures out into society as a new mama. We were visiting the home of some new friends & he started crying a little bit. Then, it got louder & I excused myself to the other room as I attempted to quiet him.
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I tried bouncing him. I tried singing lullabies. I tried feeding him & changing his diaper. Still he continued to wail.
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All my visions of motherhood were crashing down hard as I tasted my own failure to soothe this real-life baby.
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Fast forward a few weeks. I’m listening to scripture on audio as I fold laundry. One short phrase rings out strong. It’s the second part of Colossians 3:11, which says, ‘But Christ is all & in all.’
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That is, he is everything, everywhere, for every moment. He provides the meaning & purpose & beauty—not just for some days or some people—but for all & for everything, even this moment as I fold my laundry, even that moment when my child is crying and crying, even when I am crying myself. 
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Jesus is the beginning, middle & end of my story & your story & everyone else’s story.
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We live in a world where relationships tend to be defined by divisions & distinctions. This is the reality of my heart—that I look on others & instinctively measure myself as either inadequate or superior in comparison.
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But there is something bigger than all our differences, bigger than all the measurements & status. Christ is bigger. He is all.
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When we look at ourselves & at others, we look for Christ, in & through all our differences. We are no longer worrying what others think of us or racing to prove ourselves, to peg ourselves as inferior or superior to another mama. Rather, we clothe ourselves in humility. 
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We’re on a treasure hunt of sorts, looking for Christ, searching to delight in His glory in those around us & his grace in our own weaknesses. We’re living out this identity as a people holy & dearly loved, freed to bear with each other & forgive each other & live in peace as one body.
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Because Christ is all & is in all, we can live in sweet peace & experience genuine love.”
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More from @jennywrenreed on the blog! Link in profile.

‘You know, babe, I wish I could have known you would be all into this … birth stuff before we got married.’

We became pregnant just a few short months after our honeymoon, which unlocked inside of me what has become an enduring life passion: childbirth.

My favorite portion of Romans 8 is where Paul uses childbirth as a metaphor to teach us about our ultimate future glory.

‘For the creation waits with eager longing for the revealing of the sons of God … For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now.’

Whether it’s something as significant as a waiting to see a child to come to saving faith in Christ or something more temporal but strongly felt as waiting for a child to fall asleep (PLEASE!), we all know what it means to wait for something with eager longing.

But the waiting of childbirth—and, so, creation—is marked by groaning. This is not a comfortable waiting. It is waiting punctuated by great effort and, oftentimes, pain. The tension of ‘already but not yet’ is palabable in the delivery room. Every birth attendant knows that the baby is coming; but often as the hours or days of labor creep by, it is easy to fall into wondering if the baby will actually ever come

Christians are a people keenly aware that this world is not as it should be. When we look around and see hatred and bigotry, inequality and racism, poverty and wars, it would be right for us to literally moan, ‘When will Jesus redeem this once and for all!?’

Praise God that we have assurance that day IS coming—the baby WILL be born!—though it will be at an ‘hour no one knows.’

Just like a woman in labor, may we endeavor to put those groanings to work. May our groans sound like women who shout gospel truth through the labor halls of life. And may we know when we get to see our Savior face to face, it will be cause for infinite joy—a moment that will make the breathtaking moment of looking into the faces of our own children once they’ve been born pale in comparison.

I remember the first time I ever saw my husband with a baby. I found myself in a daydream in that moment, as love struck young women do, of what it would be like to raise a family with this kind, servant-hearted, steady man.

The daydream crumbled shortly after we came home from the hospital with our newborn son four years later.

Those first few weeks were really difficult. Caring for our child came much more naturally to me. Gradually, I started to just do things myself instead of asking for help because it was easier that way, but it didn't stop resentment from growing in my heart. I had looked forward to all the ways that parenthood would make us closer and more in love, but those first few months were nothing like I had imagined.

It was so much lonelier.

I wish I could sit down for coffee with that grieving, disillusioned mama and offer her the encouragement in this article, but instead, I pray that if you are struggling the way that I was in that first year, that this article would meet you in that place and offer hope.

Your Father sees, hears, and knows.

Your Father has given you all that you need.

Your Father is sovereign over this season.

Your Father is able to change hearts.

So this Father’s Day, if you have experienced something similar, celebrate your husband for what he is: the father of your children.

Reach deeply for the things he is doing well. Encourage him with the ways that you see God working in him and through him.Tell him that you know what a great responsibility it is and how much of a challenge it is and how you are committed to supporting him and praying for him.

Most of all, feel the blessing of your heavenly Father loving you not according to what you have done, but because of who you are in Christ, and extend that same patience, grace, and favor to your spouse.