When my husband and I found out that we were expecting a baby less than half a year into our marriage, we were over the moon.

Though we were newlyweds, we wanted to start our family early and were excited to step into this new season of parenthood together.

From what our friends and family told us, we knew that the first newborn weeks would be challenging.

We steeled ourselves for sleepless nights and a steep learning curve.

But what I did not expect was to face the toughest few months of my life.

A long, dark tunnel

About two months after our son was born, my mental health took a rough hit and I began to be tormented by crippling anxiety.

I felt disproportionately anxious about everything, from routine tasks like pumping milk and buying diapers, to my baby’s health and development. I worried incessantly about the host of illnesses and developmental problems that could afflict him, even though there were no signs of him having any issues.

I was on a perpetual fight-or-flight mode, as if I was defending against every “bad” thing in the world that could happen to us. Physically, I felt like there was a brick constantly sitting on my chest.

I hadn’t felt this kind of fear before and I could not control it. I knew that something was off, that my mind was not well, but at the time I didn’t know what it was.

I had been told to look out for the symptoms of postpartum depression, but I didn’t feel depressed. I took the postpartum depression test – once at my postpartum check-up and several other times on my own – and passed it every time.

I wasn’t sad. I wasn’t crying. I wasn’t angry. I was just … unbearably anxious.

It was only later on that I found out I had postpartum anxiety, which affects more mums than most people would expect.

In fact, according to this article by the National University Hospital, between 10% and 15% of women who have just given birth suffer from postpartum anxiety, making it as common as postpartum depression.

As the anxiety intensified, I couldn’t sleep. I would almost fall asleep and then jolt awake in a panic. Sleepless night passed after sleepless night. Whenever night fell, a fear of not being able to sleep would sink in.

At times, the anxiety got so intense that I felt like my mind would break. I remember pacing up and down my living room one night and telling my husband: “If I go crazy tonight, send me to the A&E.”

It felt like I was in a long, dark tunnel that was never going to end. I honestly thought that I would have to live like that forever.

When God’s “no” is more loving than His “yes”

Every night my husband and I prayed for two things: sleep and for the anxiety to go away. I believed with all my heart that God had the ability to take away what was tormenting me. And doesn’t Psalm 127:2 say that God grants sleep to those He loves?

But each night, I still could not sleep. The anxiety still clung to me wherever I went. And I had to come face to face with a God who says “no” to what I think I so desperately need.

Worn and weary, I struggled to accept that His “no” to my plea was more loving than His “yes”.

As sleep continued to elude me, I became angry with God.

“Where are You?!” I cried out to Him as I fed my baby in the darkness of early dawn. “You say You are with me but I don’t feel it. You need to show up because I cannot do this anymore.”

That day in Sunday service, my pastor preached a sermon on Jonah, the angry prophet.

Upon seeing the sermon title, I broke down in tears. I am no prophet, but I definitely was angry. And God was acknowledging that He had seen my anger toward Him that morning.

Yet, while God was comforting me through the sermon, He was also gently rebuking me: “Is it right for you to be angry?” (Jonah 4:9)

It reminded me of what my husband had told me earlier that morning, after I asked him if it was valid for me to feel angry with God.

Understanding my struggles, he had answered: “Yes … but God has granted you sleep all your life; it’s only in this season that He has chosen to take it away for whatever reason.”

Both my husband’s and the pastor’s words spoke to me, and I realised that deep down, I felt God owed it to me to answer all my prayers and make my life as free of suffering as possible – and that wasn’t right.

Something shifted in my heart as I found my prideful sense of entitlement being slowly chipped away.

Repentant, I resolved that morning to continue trusting God and accept what He chooses to give ­– or not to give – me.

Stepping stones of grace

Recognising that I was not in a good place, I reached out for professional help and got a polyclinic referral to see a psychiatrist. She prescribed me medication that, thankfully, slowly helped me to feel calmer over a few months.

In the thick of the anxiety, it was difficult for me to feel God’s presence. I didn’t know where He was and what He was doing. Yet when I look back on that season, I see a journey dotted with God’s gentle fingerprints.

While He didn’t grant me immediate reprieve, He gave me countless stepping stones of grace – blessings that I hadn’t asked for.

Like how I could still care for and enjoy my son to some extent. Moments of joy. Pockets of reprieve. Love and support from my family and friends. An amazing domestic helper. A miraculously quick appointment with the psychiatrist. That the medication worked for me without any side effects.

I thought what I needed was a smooth-sailing life, but what I really needed was to tread on God’s stepping stones of grace, which I found He provides unconditionally.

He had guided me along this grace-paved road, even as I yelled at Him and accused Him of being missing-in-action.

Looking back now, I also realise that God’s “no” to my plea did not mean that he was absent in my pain. I remember one night as I lay awake in an anxious spiral, 1 Peter 5:7 came to my mind: “Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you.”

As I repeated the verse over and over to myself, the Holy Spirit revealed to me that God does not merely care for me in the way that we might care about an upcoming sale or an exam. Rather, He is actively taking care of me every moment of each day.

He had been right there with me through each anxiety-filled spiral and each sleepless night, even when I had not felt it.

Living to recount His deeds

I decided to share my story because I made a bold promise to God that I’d testify of His goodness publicly at my church and on Salt&Light if I ever emerged from this trial.

When my anxiety was at its peak, I had feared that it would one day cause me to take my own life. I didn’t want to die, but I was afraid that the anxiety would eventually drive me to that point.

I remember having morbidly intrusive thoughts of myself dying, as well as thoughts of how my family would move on with their lives without me.

But God assured me with two verses. The first was Psalm 121:7: “The Lord will keep you from all evil; He will keep your life.”

The second was Psalm 118:17: “I shall not die, but I shall live, and recount the deeds of the Lord.”

So I promised Him that I would.

After I began feeling more like myself, I was reminded of this promise. Honestly, I was reluctant to follow through with it. That rough season was something that I wanted to put behind me, and I didn’t really want to be vulnerable in front of so many people.

But knowing that I should honour my word to God, I prayed and asked Him to give me the words to say. He did, and I plucked up the courage to share my experience of God’s goodness to me in Sunday service.

To be honest, I did it just to fulfil my promise so it wouldn’t weigh on my conscience. But to my surprise, God used my sharing to speak to many people in the congregation.

Both friends and acquaintances alike thanked me for sharing a difficult part of my life and said they were encouraged by it. Someone I hadn’t spoken to before later wrote me a card saying that my sharing had helped to “untie a knot” in her heart after a close friend she respected had taken her own life.

I was humbled by how God used my pain to reach out to others, even though I had not been the most enthusiastic or willing partner.

It also reminded me of something that a colleague had told me while I was still in the valley. Gifted with receiving visions from God, he said that I was experiencing the heat of the Refiner’s fire and that, in time, God would use what is left to feed those around me spiritually.

Seeing this come to pass, I felt privileged that God would use my struggle to point others to Him.

Even though we do not understand how God works, I’ve seen with my own eyes that our Father really does love us and has a plan for all He allows to happen.

And He is with us through it all, as it says in Psalm 23:4: “Even though I walk through the darkest valley, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.”

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