Kiss Your Miracle

As I write this on July 15^th, I’m remembering this day last year. It was my due date with Skylar and I was more than ready to have my baby girl. But apparently, my body wasn’t. At my OB appointment that day, my doctor shook his head sadly and informed me that no, the baby hadn’t dropped yet. And no, I still wasn’t dilated.

As Adam and I left his office that day I felt defeated. My pregnancy until that point had been easy. I was so happy to be pregnant after our infertility that none of my aches and pains bothered me. I could feel the baby moving a lot and felt fairly confident that everything would be fine. But once July 15^th had come and gone, I fell apart emotionally. I had nothing but time on my hands and the more I thought about what might happen, the more anxious I became. What if I had to be induced? I’d had my heart set on a natural birth, not one where I spent my labor lying in a hospital bed, hooked up to a fetal monitor and an IV. What if the induction led to a C-section? What if something went horribly wrong during the birth?

It turns out that we did have a few complications when Sky entered the world on July 22^nd, but the doctor handled them quickly and we left the hospital two days later as a healthy family of three. My point is not that my fears were ridiculous. Tragedies happen every day. It’s that my fear didn’t accomplish anything except to make me, and probably Adam, miserable for a while. If God had planned to allow a catastrophe in our lives, worrying about it ahead of time wouldn’t have changed the outcome. As a teenager I worried about infertility, and realizing years later that I’d been right about it gave me no satisfaction.

I understand why God tells us not to live fearful lives. And I’m thankful he understands just how difficult it can be for us to actually do that. Psalm 103:14 says that God knows how we were formed and “he remembers that we are dust.” I find that very comforting, especially when I feel fragile and scared. Eleven weeks into my second pregnancy, I could easily give up the joy that should go along with expecting a child, trading it in for a list of fears. Sometimes I catch myself thinking that the solution to fear is strength – as in, strong women don’t worry. But the paradox of scripture is that we are only strong when we concede our weakness. And when I look at it that way, I am overwhelmed with gratitude that I’m a Christian. It’s okay to admit that I can’t do anything on my own, even manage my own fear. God will never reject me or be disappointed in me for that. All he asks of me is to come to him, trusting that regardless of what the future holds, he loves me with an unfailing love and he will always be with me.