When Unruly Thoughts Refuse to Be Taken Captive

Written by Lara d’Entremont, Canada

I laid my first son in the warm bathwater, having already tested it several times to be certain the temperature was just right for his silky, newborn skin. His eyes widened for a moment at the touch of the water to his spine, but as I smiled and cooed to him, he relaxed into the tub and gently kicked his heels.

There, without warning, the intrusive thought struck my brain.

I gasped. My heart pounded. Violent, deathly images flashed through my mind. I gripped the cold porcelain and gritted my teeth as the images pelted me. I first imagined myself holding up a shield against them, yet they simply punctured it. Then I sought to gather each of them up and stuff them in a cage like vermin, but they continued to break free. I fought to close the eyes of my mind and cry out against them, but they refused to obey.

Finally, the thoughts stopped. As I relaxed, my focus returned to my place on the bathroom floor, kneeling on fake tiles, sweat beaded on my forehead, watching my newborn paddle in the tub.

This happened on a regular basis. It became so tied to bath time that I eventually passed the task to my husband when he returned home from work. I never told him why—I never told anyone why. If they knew, they would take my baby from me and lock me up. What kind of mother possibly has these kinds of thoughts?

The circles of faith I worked in concerning mental health and Christianity told me to simply take these thoughts captive, as Paul admonished the church in Corinth (2 Corinthians 10:5). Believers should have control over their minds and make every thought obedient to Christ. That’s what I sought to do.

What I didn’t realize is that what I experienced each day were intrusive thoughts, triggered by a body experiencing major hormonal changes from pregnancy to birth and breastfeeding, and a brain that already struggled with misfiring when it came to fear and anxiety. I likewise didn’t realize the more I wrestled against these intrusive thoughts, the harder they would fight back—like a dog playing tug-of-war with a beloved toy. I suppose the people who advised me didn’t realize any of this either, or if they had heard of it, they condemned it as heresy since it came from modern psychology and not from the Bible.

This knowledge further silenced me. If these thoughts not only proved me to be an unfit mother but also an immature and weak Christian, how could I reveal them to anybody? How could I speak them aloud? I believed myself to be the only believing mother in the world to ever grapple with such violence in her mind, and I vowed to never tell another soul, not even my husband or best friend.

Over time, the thoughts faded as my son grew bigger, but after a traumatic birth with my twin boys, the thoughts flared up like a forest fire. My brain concocted horrific images concerning the safety of my infants. I squeezed my eyes shut and braced my body, trying to force the thoughts to dart away. Yet the harder I pressed, the stronger they pushed back. I lived in a whirlwind of aggressive thoughts I despised, yet refused to reveal them to a single person out of fear of losing my children.

Meanwhile, I attended secular psychiatry appointments for my extreme anxiety. During one check-in, my psychiatrist asked if I ever had intrusive thoughts. I didn’t know what they were, but I feared they were what I faced every day. I swallowed hard and avoided her eyes. “No,” I murmured.

She nodded. “Okay. Some women get them postpartum. We’re not sure why, but they are completely harmless. They often revolve around frightening or disturbing images that are violent or sexual in nature. They are the exact opposite of what the mother wants, which is what makes them so harmless.”

Her words stripped a weight of guilt and fear from my back. I straightened and looked her in the eyes. “Wait, I have experienced that. I thought you’d have my children taken away if I told you.”

She shook her head. “No, I promise you, these intrusive thoughts are no reflection of your care as a mother.”

I sat back in relief as she proceeded to expand on intrusive thoughts and how I could better manage them. She told me that the harder we fight against them and the more attention we give them, the worse they become. The best course of action against them is a posture of quiet non-judgment; to simply take note of them and let them pass.

I learned that day that not every thought is true or a reflection of who we are, despite how strong they feel. Some thoughts are created by unkind voices we’ve heard as we’ve grown up. Some are developed from traumas and abuses we experienced. Other thoughts are a creation of our broken minds as they misfire. Our job isn’t to assess our morality by them, but to decide whether or not they are worth paying attention to.

To help us assess our thoughts, we at times need the help of a professional—whether a doctor, a counselor, a psychologist, or a psychiatrist. They can give us practical tools to work through distressing thoughts that aren’t our own and at times provide skills or medications to help slow and silence them. Seeking this kind of professional help isn’t a sign of weakness or immaturity. Rather, it can be an act of faith as we trust and thank God for His common grace in providing such help for us.

In His extravagant love, God has provided common grace for this in-between and not-yet time before redemption. In His common grace, those who do not know Him, and some who even curse Him, are able to know the truth about His world. By this common grace, God provided doctors, obstetricians, nurses, pediatricians, and psychiatrists to bring some relief to our groaning bodies. In my story, they rescued my distressed babies from my womb and gave me tools to cope with the PTSD and OCD symptoms that followed.

If you share a similar story to mine, reach out to someone you can trust, and don’t allow these thoughts to make you believe you are a wretched person. If you trust in Jesus Christ for the salvation of your sins, He calls you a member of His body, a saint, and beloved (Ephesians 5:30, 1:1; Colossians 3:12). Don’t believe the lies that tell you otherwise. These intrusive thoughts are a part of living in a world broken by the curse of sin, but one day Jesus will wipe them all away with every tear and ailment in eternal life (Revelation 21:4).

Lara d’Entremont is first a wife and a mom to three little wildlings. While the wildlings snore, she designs websites and edits for other writers, but her first love is writing—whether it be personal essays, creative nonfiction, or fantasy novels. Lara has recently published a book called ‘A Mother Held: Essays on Motherhood and Anxiety’, which you can take a look at here. You are also welcome to visit her online home at laradentremont.com.