Finding Rest

The transition from two to three kids has been so very interesting. Talk about vast ends of the spectrum. It has been the easiest in terms of just feeling comfortable and confident with multiple kids. It has been the hardest, dealing with the strong emotions and (often irrational) fears of losing her, after having lost Elijah. It has been so incredibly filled with giddy joy. It has rendered me almost paralyzed with anxiety. 

I have spent the last two and a half weeks marveling at what an amazing and perfect gift Lucy is, and I've felt suffocated by the need to protect her from the world and all the possible negative things that could happen. 

I truly didn't expect the fears and anxiety to be so pronounced. I knew there would be a lot of checking for her breathing and such, but it's been challenging, and though I feel like its irrational to some extent, it has also been very real to me. 

Late last Tuesday night, William walked downstairs covered in vomit. Naturally, this sucks, and no one wants their kids to be sick. I felt awful for him, but more than that, I broke into tears, fearing the worst for Lucy's little body. I jumped straight into the future of unknowns, and felt my clawing need to control her environment crashing down around me. Although I started praying, I really didn't rest in the fact that God would hear me. I just knew we would all get sick....and how would I take care of her when I'm vomiting?! And what if she had to go to the hospital?! What if her body couldn't handle it?!

I forgot one vitally important part: I'm not raising this child alone. Or any of my children. Not only do they have me and their father, they have extended family and amazing friends. But more than all that, God is helping me raise these children. He covers my daily blunders with grace and wants to be in the center of it all. Only, I wasn't letting Him. I was taking on the burden of this precious life that HE gave us, and trying to control it all. I wasn't trusting Him to go before us and care for us as only He can. 

So, Tuesday night, Kyle took care of William while I disinfected and washed and isolated Lucy. This continued into Wednesday.  Kyle got sick Thursday evening and I cared for the kids while he was quarantined. Still more disinfecting, spraying, washing, etc. Friday dawned with little hope of me making it through the day, my birthday, without hugging the toilet. Talk about a horrible way to spend your birthday. Sure enough, by that afternoon, my mom was throwing together her stuff and rushing here from 5 hours away to take care of the kids while kyle had to work. Since there was a lengthy gap before mom arrived and I could no longer care for Lucy, I called my friend in tears. Without hesitation, she left her family and their fun plans and came to save the day. I cannot believe how blessed I am to have friends who would be willing to do this. Just blows my mind. 

So, there I was, living out one of my worst case scenarios, and I finally felt peace. God had been speaking to me through friends, scripture posted on Facebook, perfectly-timed texts from a sweet momma also feeding her baby in the middle of the night, and I still hadn't fully understood. He was with me. Fully. I couldn't do it all on my own, nor did He intend for me to. It was in the necessity of letting go of my pseudo-control and walking through my fear, that I was finally able to rest. To let go of the intense fear and remember to trust Him. 

That night, Maggie also got sick. Saturday proved to be a great stay in the pajamas and watch cartoons day. Sunday we all felt better and my mom went back to Kentucky. Here it is Monday afternoon, and Lucy is snuggled in my arms, still healthy and happy. I am continuing to pray she stays this way, and I hold out hope that God has spared her this time. 

I know there will be a part of me that will continue to be hyper vigilant about hand washing and checking for breathing and keeping us away from too many people while in the midst of this cold/flu/enterovirus 68/Ebola chaos, but my momma bear soul has found its rest again. My anxiety has dropped dramatically and I don't feel so crazed. My reality is that I have buried a child and while that will always be a part of me, I will not continue to let fear steal my joy. I will embrace the time I am allowed right now with my family. I can be cautious, without letting anxiety overtake me. I will just have to daily choose to keep my eyes on the giver of life, the only one who can truly give and take away. It's very obvious that when I rely too heavily on myself, the result isn't pretty.