photo above left credit: Danielle Rojas Crosby for Karats and Keepsakes

We know that so often social media only shows part of the story. The photos aren’t showing it all, but they can only cover for so long.

This postpartum season has been vastly easier for me that my last two: I haven’t had a partner who would berate me for the smallest things, I haven’t had to leave the house with two small babies and drive for hours so my partner could sleep midday, and I’ve had ever item I needed to make things work.

But I still have my moments of feeling down, and that I’m not enough. Breastfeeding ultimately was not a success for me, I thought I had the tools I needed to make it work, but I didn’t. I thought I was mentally prepared if it was not successful, but I wasn’t.

My body has not bounced back quickly, although it wasn’t something I really thought about beforehand- it has affected me more than I expected, although I can conceal it easily with clothing… without, my new body still appears shockingly in the mirror.

“There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.” – Washington Irving

I don’t really blame social media per se for unrealistic expectations- those I put on myself. If anything, social media has allowed me more tools to have more information than I did before. I didn’t have a smart phone, unless you count a Blackberry, the last two go rounds. iPhones were brand new and I had yet to jump in. And social media also allows. me to connect with friends- before, I remember scrolling Facebook in the middle of the night on my desktop… aimlessly looking to connect with anyone because I felt so alone.

The feeling of loneliness now creeps in at moments I’m not expecting. Unexplainable. Frustrations I have with not meeting my own goals, for not being able to slow myself down enough in those first few weeks.

And yet, it also wasn’t possible. Moving into a new home and also going back to work right at a month in to having a baby… but also being grateful that my job allows me to bring him in.

This morning, there were tears. And I hoped that no one I worked with would notice, or even still the students- because a three year old will call you out in a heartbeat. Thankfully, the kids has an Easter egg hunt and the Easter Bunny to distract them.

But often tears shouldn’t be hidden: “There is a sacredness in tears. They are not a mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are the messengers of overwhelming grief, of deep contrition and of unspeakable love.” – Washington Irving. I’ve had that as one of the quotes on my Facebook profile ever since there was such a thing. And yet, I still have a hard time embracing it fully. I wiped my tears away this morning, so as to not face any questions. And I willed myself to stop them.

Today we have Stations of the Cross, and I am reminded of the tears that were shed on Good Friday. That are shed by so many, and the prayers of the world:

“Jesus, you stand all alone before Pilate. Nobody speaks up for you. Nobody helps defend you. You devoted your entire life to helping others, listening to the smallest ones, caring for those who were ignored by others. They don’t seem to remember that as they prepare to put you to death. As a child, sometimes I feel alone. Sometimes I feel that others don’t stand up for me and defend me when I am afraid. Sometimes I don’t feel like I am treated fairly, especially if I am scolded or corrected.   As an adult, sometimes I feel abandoned and afraid as well. Sometimes I too, feel like I am treated unfairly or blamed for things unfairly. I have a hard time when people criticize me at home or at work. Help me be grateful for what you did for me. Help me to accept criticism and unfairness as you did, and not complain. Help me pray for those who have hurt me.” – Catholic.org

I can’t help but to see the correlation of postpartum tears and the end of Lent. I have this beautiful, amazing baby- a growing life. even amongst the sadness around me, even while I sacrifice my sleep- my body- to give life. Lent is ending, Easter is coming- brought about by the death of Jesus- the ultimate sacrifice for the world made by the sacrifice of God’s only son.

There’s been so much loss over the years, but also much strength- and much to be thankful for.

This Sunday, Easter Sunday, I am aiming to be back in church- aside from church at work- for the first time in just over two years. Me in my broken, new body… sacrificed for bringing in new life into this world. And yet, still beautiful.