Why I Want to be a Flower Farmer: Reason #27: Flowers helped me through post-partum anxiety.

In July 2020, I made a floral arrangement for the first time. More specifically, I made large floral letters that spelled out my daughter’s name for her bedroom. We were knee-deep in the global COVID-19 shutdown, and I’ll never forget hunkering down on our living room floor after putting my daughter to bed. Hot glue gun, wire cutters, blooms upon blooms of (artificial) flowers in light pink, blush, creams, and whites. You know when you get so into a project that time moves at a ridiculously accelerated speed? You look up and realize it’s 1:00 am even though you would have bet money it was 9:00 pm.   

That’s what happened. It was like I entered a little bubble of a magical world where I could finally BREATHE. And I mean that quite literally. Because before those evenings with those flowers, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. And I mean that literally.   

A year earlier in 2019 I had my first baby. Five months later, we moved across the country to a city where we had no friends or family, bought a townhouse we had never seen, and my husband started a new job. About seven months after that, there was a global pandemic. 

It was a difficult season. 

Like many of us, I tried to keep it all together at first. I told myself it was all temporary, it would be over soon, and that I could smile through it and remain optimistic and strong.  

And I’m not just talking about COVID. The global shutdown was only part of it.  

I also had not really made any close friends in our new city. My husband’s new, stressful, and demanding job took a toll, especially when he started working from home. On top of it all, I was postpartum. Sometime in the spring or early summer of 2020, I started perpetually feeling like I couldn’t take a deep enough breath. 

And I felt alone.  

At first, I thought maybe it was medical. Is something wrong with my lungs? Could it be asthma? I investigated everything and talked to my primary care provider. I even got bloodwork done, an X-ray, and an EKG. There was no reason that I should be having trouble breathing—or perhaps more aptly stated, the sensation of not being able to breathe—except for one thing.  

Anxiety. After working with a counselor, we realized it was, more specifically, post-partum anxiety.  

I thought it was so weird! I thought I was doing fine (at least on paper)! My brain had been able to create mental coping strategies (or so I thought). I could tell myself things were temporary. I wasn’t crying all the time or anything like that. I had none of the symptoms that I had traditionally associated with mental illness. I didn’t have a category for the shortness of breath, but I certainly didn’t think my mental health was the problem.  

My body knew better. It was telling me something.  

I had heard lots of things about post-partum depression. I had filled out all those little screenings at the OBGYN and pediatrician, answered, “fine!” when the doctors asked how I was doing, but I had never even heard the term post-partum anxiety. It wasn’t until after my second baby that I finally put the pieces together and connected the dots. It took me a long time to realize (and admit) that my anxiety symptoms were post-partum related.  

Sometimes, things aren’t exactly what you think they will be. I had dreamy and optimistic ideas of what it would be like to have a baby. It couldn’t have been more different from what I pictured. Did I have lots of baby snuggles, sweet baby bath times, and cherished new family memories? Yeah, I did! Did I also have several daily instances where I felt like I couldn’t breathe? Couldn’t remember something that happened just an hour or two ago? New aches and pains and tensions in my body I’d never felt before? Trouble falling asleep even though I was more physically exhausted than ever? 

Yeah. Those things too.  

But there was something about arranging those flowers.  

There’s something about creating something that didn’t exist before. Or maybe it’s just how my mind was distracted by something beautiful, something that didn’t have to do with cleaning, meeting new people, figuring out groceries, breastfeeding, or a screaming baby.  It helped me turn down the mental noise I didn’t even realize was there. It helped me return to myself and remember what it feels like to have fun, pause, rest, and breathe. Intentionally look to experience peace and enjoyment. 

Now, flash forward four and a half years. Now I have FOUR kids. You read that right. Yes, I had four kids in five and a half years. We didn’t plan it that way, but God did (that’s a whole other blog post).  

The point is, I’ve learned a thing or two about what it means to rest and how needed it is for my health (and survival!). To take a moment and sit down on the inside.  To find something in which to delight! To have fun! These things seem simple as I write them, but they are so, so hard with such young children. 

In other news, I’ve also been absolutely and entirely gripped with a passion to start a flower farm. A micro-farm, rather. I think explaining that decision and how it connects is another blog post. But the point is this:  

I want to be a farmer-florist when I grow up.  

I want to spend as much time as possible cutting flowers, arranging them, smelling them, breathing them in.  

Breathing.  

Soothing my body and nervous system by giving my mind a break, accessing my creativity, wonder, and sense of thrill, and enjoying the beautiful world God created.  

It’s okay for things to be different than you thought they’d be. It’s okay to change your mind. To be something different when you grow up. To be new at something. To be new somewhere.  

But you’re not alone. Talk to your doctor, a counselor, your trusted family and friends. Find something that delights you and make time to get lost in it. Be creative and unproductive, at least for a few moments each day.  

Oh! And there’s always flowers, too.  :)  

Here’s a couple of throw back photos from the end of 2020!