Faith Over Fear

I’ve never been a good sleeper. My mom will tell you about needing lots of bedside coaching when I was younger, or nights where I slept in her bed with her. (At least I didn’t kick as badly as my sister, though, right Mom?) I had trouble sleeping if there was any type of change—-not great when you switch houses every week—or stress—not great when you are a highly anxious child. Even as an adult, if there is change or stress going on in my life, you will find me up in the middle of the night, plowing through books, pacing my breathing, and counting backwards from 500 in an attempt to fall asleep.

The amazing thing is, I slept beautifully for almost all of pregnancy. Sure, there were nights when I was up, haunting the kitchen and making my way through the next novel. Sometimes Henry would join me with a little swim session or dance party. And there were definitely mornings of grumpy, silent Sarah, who really needed an extra hour or two of sleep she didn’t get.

But for the most part, considering everything that was going on (both with Henry’s heart, and the whole global pandemic situation) I have slept amazingly well the past 10 months.

[Let me just interject to say that I have been told how babies let you sleep while in the womb might translate to how they sleep outside of it. If this is the case, we are going to be doubly blessed: first, with Henry, and second, with Henry the good sleeper. You know, aside from those 2:00AM yoga/swim team/modern dance/karate practices I mentioned above.]

(Yes, our child is a superhero with lasers for hands.)

Why am I talking about sleep? Well, this is the first night since Henry was born that I’ve been waking up on my own throughout the night, not because an alarm told me it was time to pump. And this is the first night when I laid here and faced the reality of the fear that, despite all the reasons to my optimistic, to have hope, to see with my very own eyes that our little boy is a strong one, a kid who knows what he wants and would you like you do it right now please, a fighter who—as I’ve said before—after many tries and fails is the child who ‘stuck,’ the child we were meant to be given...something could still go wrong.

How are you not supposed to be scared?

Welcome to parenthood, right? Always worrying about your child and their well-being for the rest of your life. Yep, I know I signed up for that. I did not sign up for the moment when they take him away to go cut his heart open and try to repair it. 

So, yes, the little girl who’s fatalistic anxiety led her to think of the worst case scenario in all situations is absolutely trying to put herself back front and center in this story. And while I can’t keep all of those feelings at bay (nor is it healthy to try to*) I can remember these two things:

*says the health educator

• “It all begins and ends in your mind. What you give power to, has power over you. If you allow it.”-Leon Brown
• “Your Lord is not going to push you beyond what He also gives you the grace to endure.”—Courtney Reissig

Both of those quotes were shared with me by two dear friends. The first on the day of the induction, and the second after our first visit to see the cardiologist here in Madison.

What is comes down to, for me, is that we have done everything that we can possibly do to control what whatever we possibly can, and now is the time to have faith: in what has been done, in the people who have been placed in our lives to help us, and in God (or whatever higher power you might believe in) who gave us our son and has helped us make it this far.

Faith over fear.

Easier said than done, but I’m trying.