Fear, and Busting Through It

FEAR.  That's the big scar for me that I have done battle with for months.  This season in my life has too acutely shown me how little control I have.  Not so good for a perfectionistic control freak like me, oh my!  It is a journey... to learn how to trust with unwavering faith.  I have a long way to go.

I feared when we brought Colby home from the hospital at one week old.  He seemed so healthy, but I worried anyway.

 It took me several days to realize why my stomach hurt every time I combed his hair-- it was my body remembering softly brushing over the scars on Ellianna's head--always scared that I might hurt her. 

Colby's soft, milky baby smell made my chest hurt.  It reminded me of the day that scent disappeared too soon.  I breathed deep of it, to ingrain it into my memory; afraid that day would come again.

My sweet baby boy started sleeping through the night at two weeks old.  Dreamy, sighing, refreshing sleep, and yet I was exhausted; awake every 15 minutes to check if he was still breathing. 

I have feared I won't have the chance for one more photo, or that I won't have any video of him.  You can imagine what THAT fear has led to :)

After several weeks of the sun rising with my sweet little boy still safe in my arms, I began to let my guard down.  That was when my faith was tested again.

He was blue, gasping, but no rise of his tiny chest.  My mind shut down, my hands did what I have been trained to do... but I couldn't revive him on my own.  I called for help, and it wasn't until he was on the way to the hospital ahead of me, that it all came crashing down.  The roots of hope I have been nurturing were pulled by doubt.  I was blind with terror, incredulous that I was about to live this nightmare again.

Colby stabilized, he was breathing on his own, weak and pale, but breathing.  He was admitted with aspiration pneumonia after spitting up and then inhaling the fluid.  It seemed so stable, but my heart was not.

This will sound ridiculous, but I started taking pictures.  Every few minutes taking another, because "what if this is my last chance?"
                             

It wasn't just me... shortly after my husband left the hospital to go home to the other kids for the night, he texted me.  He was sick because it was all too familiar.... the last time he left, leaving me at the hospital with our little girl, and me calling him to come back because she was going to die.

I was standing over Colby's bed.  He was pale, temperature rising, and everything in me was bracing for impact.  I bowed my head and I screamed at the God I was trying to trust. 

"Don't you dare take my son from me.  I am not Job.  I will not continue to praise You.  I will not survive this time." 

All this fear stemming from such a shallow belief that the God I claim to believe, really does have my best interests at heart.

They say He doesn't give us more than we can handle... So I'm trying to believe that He must really think I'm strong to give me what He has.  Doesn't make it easier really.

 As I'm entering another season that at times seems too much, I have the advantage of being able to look back at all He has brought me through.  Wasn't ever pretty at the time, but here I am... after days I thought I would never make it through, here I am.  And there He is, just trying to make a Job out of me :)

Colby has since recovered completely, and is thriving.  His smell is sweet, his smiles are cherished, and we have enough photos to embarrass him for years to come.  I am sleeping almost the whole 8 hours that he is, and I am continually, purposefully giving my fears to God.

Two of my sweet little ones have surgeries coming up.  Although nothing like the brain surgeries that changed our lives, I can't help but feel anxious.  Enough so that we are opting to drive to a hospital out of town instead of sitting in that familiar waiting room close to home.  I know that I will be an emotional wreck; that's just the result of the hard that I've been through. But I'm being intentional about sharing my fears, leaning in, and choosing to hope that good things and happy endings do exist.

 Most of all, I'm preaching to myself, reviewing the promises, and remembering that even if things get hard, I will be upheld and sustained by a God who has already brought me through so much.

Please leave me a comment; it lets me know you're listening!