I’m thanking God today that it’s slightly overcast where I live. My husband Dylan and I took a week road trip to see my family in Upper Michigan where it was 15-25 degrees cooler (aka heaven). While I’m just out of my first trimester, I’m finding that I somehow empathise with 50-something year old women drudging their way through menopause. The hot-flashes are real, folks! To top it off, today I’m dealing with a doosie of a cold that had me prepared for a flu diagnosis. My body wasn’t prepared for that stress, I don’t think.
Anyway, that trip up north gave me some time to reflect on a lot of the feelings I’ve had over the past few months. Now that the reality of pregnancy has set in, I too am settling into the idea, and even joy of what this all means for me and for us as a new family.
My mom and I were able to have a really great conversation while I was visiting the family, something we rarely seem to do these days. Not because we wouldn’t like to, but distance, and our own busy lives keep us from keeping up like we’d prefer. She asked me how I was really doing with all of this. My first reply was that I hated the attention. As silly as it sounds, I’ve never been a huge fan of discussing “girly things” and pregnancy seems like the freaking girliest of all things ever. It’s weird and kind of disgusting and often times just plain terrifying to talk about.
Secondly, and this is where the tears came in, I was worried. We’re still in a season of uncertainty, more than just that of being pregnant. Dylan has no job, I’m not able to work as much because I’ve been so sick, and every month I cry wondering if we’re going to have enough to pay our bills. Somehow we do, and I can’t explain it away as anything less than God is truly providing for us.
But at some point, I began to believe this lie that I had to take everything back into my control because if I didn’t, nothing would get taken care of. It’s stressing me out, wearing me out, and placing a lot of unnecessary pressure on this 4 month old little babe growing in that worrisome environment. Poor thing. Sitting at that cafe with my mom, I found myself so sad for having let go of truths I know to be so real all because I forgot how to trust. I’ve allowed stress to take away my creativity, allowed money to tap me of hope and joy. No, this is not something I want to teach my child how to do.
I want our child to know the peace that comes with trust, the joy that comes with placing faith in God – that which is greater than ourselves. The comfort felt by just imagining the Divine holding us in His safety, provision, and grace. The adventure in not knowing what’s next, yet diving right into the deep end of whatever journey that requires. I’ve always lived with crazy faith, and even though I may have lost sight of that kind of life, I want to live it again.
My physical energy is fading, as even writing this has taken enough from me for today. But I close here knowing that giving up cannot be an option, especially when theres a new person on the way to teach how much more abundant life can be when we scrap the worry. God is for me, God is for us. So in the grand scheme of things, if I hold that as truth, nothing and no one can be against us. Time to start living like that.