the best of us

Her words reached me through the roar of children shrieking and women squawking. Hesitantly and quietly she said it, like she wasn’t even sure she wanted anyone to hear it but I did. “I think I’m depressed…” she trailed off when she realized no one was listening

But I was listening and I told her to go to the doctor and get medicine

And that’s when someone piped up with a “Oh girl that happens to everyone after a baby. You just need to exercise, get those endorphins going.” And another person casually added “Let me tell you about his Bible study on anxiety that I did, it’ll change the way you think.” And more chattering on

Another friend looked uncomfortable and nodded “medicine” and another just looked at the floor and the kids ran all around us at the speed of sound, and we just sipped our coffees and picked the nuts off our banana nut muffins.

She changed the subject and we stood around her farmhouse table and sank into her leather couch. Her beautifully decorated living room, her perfectly organized kitchen—could never be me. Adorable children, successful husband, gated community, brand new jogging stroller tucked inside the trunk of a brand new SUV

And she thought she was depressed

Shame on me because my brain said “how can you know what depressed is” and I stirred my coffee and I listened and watched and noticed

How her eyes were shiny how her head was bowed how her cheeks pinked fiercely

How her house smelled like cleaning products and I wondered how long had her kitchen sat cluttered with dishes or her carpet gone unvacuumed, and I know the mark of a woman who rage-cleaned her house just before company while the new baby wailed in the swing and the toddler clung to her leg

And my heart made me say “tell me more”

And the others said “tell us honey” and we assumed the positions, arms across shoulders, patting hands, brushing back her hair

“We’ll babysit”

“Let’s meet for walks”

“Baby I’m praying for you right now”

“We’ve got you”

“Here are the numbers to three different doctors”

“You’re a good mom”

This precious friend, she held back tears but her heart was sobbing, we all felt it

This dutiful wife and mother, she was hurting

Not because of anything she had done or anything that had been done to her

But it be like that sometimes

And you need God and you need exercise and sleep and sunlight and more water and less caffeine and friends and play dates and you need medicine

It’s okay to say that

It’s okay to say something isn’t right, it’s ok to ask for help

1st child 2nd child 7th child or no child at all, doesn’t matter

Happens to the best of us

Don’t hesitate, don’t drop your voice

And whoever it is we think we’re supposed to be can wait while we take care of ourselves and each other.

Make an appointment, call a friend, read a book, take a nap, eat pray love paint sing shower sleep

Breathe

And take the medicine