Editor’s Note: This article is written by Christine Chappell as a guest post for our series on finding hope in the midst of depression. In this series, our counselors are helping people understand the reality of depression and how God sustains and helps those who are depressed. View the Series Page here.
When my nine-year-old daughter learned I was working on a mini-book for depressed postpartum mothers, a look of confusion came over her face. She asked, “Why would a mom feel sad after having a baby? Isn’t that something to be happy about?”
My youngest child’s questions took me back to the hard season I endured after her birth—they sounded like the thoughts I was wrestling with at the time. I didn’t want to be bogged down by sorrow and limitation. I thought I should have been joyful, capable, and productive even though family life was hard. I often felt like a failure because I wasn’t enjoying every moment like others exhorted me to.[1]
There are many well-meaning pieces of advice that mothers might hear during their postpartum journey. A common one I heard was, “They grow up so fast. Enjoy every moment!” In those exchanges, I usually replied to the nostalgia with an affirming nod and smile. But silently, I’d wonder if that was even possible. How could I enjoy every moment of such a depleting and disorienting time?
For me—and for other women I’ve spoken with—the challenges of postpartum motherhood were far more multi-faceted than the demands of newborn care. There were also physical, emotional, mental, spiritual, relational, and financial challenges to navigate. Losses to live with. Griefs to groan through. Conflicts outside and fears within (2 Cor. 7:5). It seemed unrealistic to enjoy every moment when I was weary every minute of the day.
Sometimes, I felt like replying, “If you only knew how hard this was for me…”
Problems with Nostalgic Advice
Nostalgic postpartum advice can be problematic when it elevates one mother’s sentimentality over another’s reality. The fact is that not every woman holding a newborn is relishing the situation she’s in. Her invisible pain may be shrouded by painted smiles; her sorrows may be exasperated by secret shame; she can appear to be flourishing while quietly withering in a chaotic or turbulent home. Nostalgic advice such as, “Enjoy every moment!” might sound like sage motherhood wisdom, but it runs the risk of dismissing hurt and heartbreak.
We don’t want to tell a mother to “Enjoy!” when her heart is in mourning (Rom. 12:15).
Nostalgic postpartum advice also becomes problematic when it inadvertently goes beyond what the Lord requires of a mother (Micah 6:8). Remember that Jesus “know[s] how to sustain with a word [her] who is weary” (Isa. 50:4, ESV). His modus operandi is to “gently lead those that are with young” (Isa. 40:11). He does this by calling them to rest in Him, not by requiring them to enjoy themselves (Matt. 11:28-30). He beckons moms to the throne of grace, not the pedestal of performance (Heb. 4:16).
Rejecting Pretense by Remembering Reality
As Christians, the exhortation that postpartum mothers should “Enjoy every moment!” is worth rethinking—especially in light of what we know about the curse (Gen. 3:16). To be sure, there was a time in human history when this ideal would have been possible. But sadly, that’s not the post-fall reality we live in. Now, mothers must bear and rear their children with pain and toil. They must do this in the context of fallen bodies, disordered relationships, spiritual warfare, and providential trials in a dying world that groans “in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time” (Rom. 8:22, NIV). It’s disingenuous when our exhortations are detached from this reality.
More than that, while Christian motherhood might not be martyrdom[2], it does require a mother to deny herself daily for the sake of her baby—her whole family, even (Luke 9:23). And learning to die to self is not “enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful” (Heb. 12:11, NLT)!
If there’s anyone who knows how painful this can be, it’s Jesus. He learned obedience through what He suffered, not through what He enjoyed (Heb. 4:15; 5:8). He endured every moment for the future joy His sacrifice would bring (Heb. 12:2); He emptied Himself and took up a cross, knowing a bountiful harvest would come from His selfless sacrifice (John 12:24; Phil. 2:5-9). Yes, a Christian mother’s call pales in comparison to Christ’s. But it still shares the same painful dynamics: death-before-life, sacrifice-before-joy, hardship-before-harvest.
Knowing the Need, Speaking Accordingly
Don’t get me wrong. We are to exhort one another daily in various aspects of Christian living (Heb. 3:13). And mothers can learn to derive enjoyment from postpartum toil—it’s a good gift of God’s grace when they do (Eccles. 2:24-25)! But for “everything there is a season” (Eccles. 3:1)—exhortations included. Words that are sweet in some seasons may be quite sour in others (Prov. 16:24; 25:20). As Mike Emlet reflects, “It’s an issue of ministry priority—what does this person need to hear right now?”[3] This question helps to inform how we speak with postpartum mothers.
In Ephesians 4:29 (NIV), Paul tells us to speak words that are “helpful for building others up according to their needs, that [our words] may benefit those who listen.” Likewise, we want to build up a postpartum mother according to her needs, not our assumptions. So, how can we know what she needs to hear? One simple way to find out is to affirm and ask, “You’re in an intense season of motherhood. What’s been the hardest part for you?”
When we remember that the postpartum season is one that entails extraordinary self-denial, we reject the shallow pretense that overlooks a mother’s sacrifice.[4] Instead of offering nostalgic advice, we invite her into conversation. Our interest becomes an expression of personal care. Dispensing advice before knowing the need isn’t personalized help—the Scriptures warn it’s our “folly and shame” (Prov. 18:13).“
For personal ministry to be effective,” Paul David Tripp explains, “the principle is simple: Don’t assume—ask.”[5] In other words, don’t assume to advise on a postpartum matter before hearing the heart of the mother. The more you know, the more graciously and helpfully you can speak to her actual need—the more you become an instrument of God’s grace.
Nostalgic postpartum advice is certainly permissible, though it’s not always beneficial or edifying (1 Cor. 10:23). But when we take care to know a mother’s world before speaking to it, we can help her feel seen and understood. We can better encourage and build her up in Christ—whether she’s enjoying the season or not (1 Thess. 5:11).
Questions for Reflection
- In what ways does nostalgic advice differ from the good news of the gospel?
- Why might it be unwise to “sing songs” (Prov. 25:20) to a postpartum mother you do not know?
- How might being “quick to hear, slow to speak” (James 1:19) help us speak to a mother’s actual needs?
Editor’s Note: Christine Chappell’s new mini-book, Postpartum Depression: Hope for a Hard Season, was released on August 26, 2024, and is available for purchase here.
[1] Excerpt slightly adapted from Christine’s new mini-book, Postpartum Depression: Hope for a Hard Season (Greensboro, NC: New Growth Press, 2024), 15.
[2] Kira Nelson, “Motherhood Isn’t Martyrdom,” The Gospel Coalition, https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/article/motherhood-martyrdom/, accessed July 25, 2024.
[3] Michael R. Emlet, Saints, Sufferers, & Sinners: Loving Others as God Loves Us (Greensboro, NC: New Growth Press, 2021), 35 (emphasis mine).
[4] Robert Kellemen, Consider Your Counsel: Addressing Ten Mistakes in Our Biblical Counseling (Greensboro, NC: New Growth Press, 2021), 31.
[5] Paul David Tripp, Instruments in the Redeemer’s Hands: People in Need of Change Helping People in Need of Change (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 2002), 170.
