Nobody likes depression.

Nobody likes to talk about depression. Or perhaps, some people do. I however, do not. But I'll tell you something. Lately, I have been depressed. More than depressed, I have felt hopeless. I could easily lay in my bed all day long and stare a hole in the ceiling. Today was especially hard. I felt pain in my chest all day long..like a hole. There was a hole in my heart. I feel like I have been carrying more than I can bare and now, someone is sitting on me. Not even my daughter's giggle makes it go away. Which means it's serious. Because her giggle makes everything go away.
 I'm going to unload on you guys for a moment here..but I promise not for long.
Some of you may know that on top of the other issues I've had with my pregnancy, I recently discovered that my son has what is called a single artery umbilical chord. This can cause many issues, such as heart failure, kidney problems, low birth weight, and developmental issues. It all stems from the baby not getting the nutrients and oxygen needed in the womb. Now, I'm not trying to be dramatic. 75% of all babies born with this are totally fine. But less than 1% of all women in the United States deal with SUA and less than 1% of all women in the United States have cervical incompetence. So it seems odds are not my friend.

On top my extremely high risk pregnancy, my husband is still looking for work (almost 3 months, yayyyyy!) and to make things even more complicated, I'm having insurance issues.
To make a long story short I called the pharmacy today to refill my progesterone (pregnancy hormones) and was told that I would have to pay cash if I needed my prescription while they got things figured out in the mean time. And without going into too much detail, I really need this prescription. It's helping my body maintain my pregnancy. I asked the woman how much it'd cost and she told me..
 "$104.76"
I can't afford that. But I have to have it, so I'll cut corners in the rest of our finances to make it work.
In the several hours between making that phone call to Walgreens and going to actually pick up my prescription I had about 15 different break downs. All on the inside. And then when my husband came home from an interview I gave him our daughter and melted into my bed. I told God I was done.
I've been crying out for a long time here, I've been wandering the desert in search of water and I feel like I've just had sand  thrown in my face. I don't need God to fix my entire life. I just need the reassuring water of His Love to wash me for just a second. I just need one sip of water. Then I'll carry on. But so far, I've had none. It's been dry.
I called my husband into our room after telling God "we're through" and with puffy red eyes and tears still streaming down my face I told him that we had to get ready for dinner at my mom's house.
On the way to her house we stopped at the pharmacy to get my prescription and while waiting in the drive through line I was venting non-stop to my husband about how all the injustice in the world is ruining me. I want to see God's goodness so I can pass along that very hope that saved me to someone else. But everywhere I look I see cancer, starving kids, rape, human trafficking, drugs, the list goes on. I just want to see a little bit of goodness.
We pull our car forward as it's our turn and the woman picks up the phone intercom and says "If you pay for this, your state medical will stop your health care all together. They'll think you can afford this prescription."
"But I can't afford it. I will have to cut corners with the rest of my budget this month, but I have to have this. If I don't take it I can go into labor right away. It's serious." I told her.
She just looked at me. I knew she felt bad for me and she walked away. I started to cry, again.
"I just need a break. I can't handle this load anymore." I told my husband.
As I'm muffling my snot sobs the pharmacy manager comes over with a look in his eyes.
"Look, we've already sent through a request to your insurance and marked it as urgent. If I take your money they'll think you can pay for this and I know you can't. So I'm giving you a couple, and if it's not taken care of by the time you run out, come back. I will take care of you."
I wept. Something physically happened in my heart. It was like a tiny light was clicked on in the darkness of that hole I was telling you about before.
"Thank you, thank you. You don't understand."
He really didn't understand. I needed that. Not sand. Water. He gave me water. He was a man dressed in white, with a lisp, and big heart. He helped me.
I know I sound like I complain a lot. But I can't describe what has been done to my heart This Year. That's what I call it, "This Year" because it's been a lump of tragic events that all run together that's changed my life and my perspective. All I see is pain. Not just my own, but everyone's. Hungry hands, abused children, tired eyes, broken hearts, sick kids, mourning mothers. It's all I see.
But tonight, for the first time in a long time, I saw Him. In a way so small but meant so much.
And He sees hungry hands and abused children, tired eyes, broken hearts, sick kids and mourning mothers. He sees it. And more than He sees it, He feels it. He catches each tear, He feels each heart break.. And more than the temporary justice I want for them in this life, He wants eternal justice. He will feed them, He will heal them. He is high and lofty, but lowly and humble in spirit. And when I have only sand, He will give me water. Sometimes just enough to leave me needing more. And when I need more, He will give it to me.

Isaiah 57:15
For this is what the high and lofty One says--he who lives forever, whose name is holy: "I live in a high and holy place, but also with him who is contrite and lowly in spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly and to revive the heart of the contrite.