By Angela Williams Glenn 
As I sit on the other side of depression, I feel like I could stay in these moments forever. It’s loud. It’s chaotic. It’s messy. Scottie McCreery’s “Five More Minutes” is blaring through the house as my daughters chase each other in circles, their laughter echoing off the walls. My son toddles around on legs he just learned to walk on.
I could keep sitting here, listening to them without a care in the world. I could keep letting them drag out every art utensil we own and let the mess go untouched. There’s a lot that actually needs to be done. But there’s really no big rush to get anywhere anytime soon. So for now, I’ll just enjoy sitting here on the other side of postpartum depression.
There’s beauty and joy in slowing down the clock to simply be and observe. Motherhood can weigh me down some days, stop my heart with fear and worry, and test my patience, endurance, and stamina.
For me, motherhood isn’t all rainbows and unicorns. It’s a splattered canvas painted with the chubby hands of young babes. There’s no rhyme or reason to the way the days unfold, but the final product somehow turns out to be a beautiful, splattered canvas with all the bright and dull colors that make up our days.
I’ve been in the middle of the storm of depression where the chaos whirled around me like a tornado. I’ve found my way out of the red haze of postpartum depression where a dawning light of the sweet part of motherhood became my lifeline to take my life back. In those angry, panicked moments of depression, I was too blind to see through the haze that engulfed me. I was afraid I had missed too much of my children’s infancy and early years as I tried to find my way out of the fog. But here on the other side, I can see clearly again.
When depression holds you firmly in its grip, the red haze clouds your vision, obscuring your view of the beauty that stands just in front of you. It’s like you’re flailing around in the darkness, trying to find the light switch. Just as your fingers brush it, and hope sparks in your chest, you flip the switch only to discover you’re still bathed in darkness. You think of calling for help, but you fear others’ criticism, so you stumble around, constantly clawing for a sign of the light.
Then you are here, where I stand now, wishing for “Five More Minutes” in the sweetness that makes motherhood the ultimate joy it’s meant to be. I stand here on the other side of depression, thanking God for the return to myself, breathing in the chaotic beauty that surrounds me in the cacophony of children running wild through the house.
Maybe that’s the beauty of depression . . . the amazing high you get recognizing how wonderful life can be when you make your way out of its darkness. Rather than worrying if it may engulf me again, I’ll stand here in the beauty of now.
by Gina Mydlo 
by Jillian Edwards 
by Brea Schmidt 
