Fear.  I know we all fear something…it’s part of what makes us human.  But when did I become terrified of spiders or airplanes or pregnancy?  Sometimes I look at my 2 year old and long for the days when I knew no fear.

Two years ago, around this time I started contracting with my son.  We hadn’t even reached that magical “24″ week mark, which really isn’t as magical as some think.  I’m a NICU nurse. I know when it’s safe.  And I don’t feel safe until that baby is in my arms…healthy and term.  I generally try to be a positive person.  But the reality is, I’m afraid.  My husband jokes that if we had not  just “gotten pregnant” I would never have felt it was the “right” time.  Thankfully, pregnancy…life…the beginning and the end…are not in our control.

So far, this pregnancy has gone much better than my first.  I was sick…really sick.  But then one day I woke up and wanted to eat.  I had that second trimester burst of energy for about a week.  I’m tired…chronically tired.  If you worked 12+ hour shifts and ran after a 2 year old and tried to maintain an orderly home, you might be chronically tired too…even if you weren’t pregnant.  And the migraines…oh the migraines.  But otherwise, I feel good.  As good as expected, considering the fact that I’m pregnant.

Last time around, I didn’t get “attached” to my son until I was late into my third trimester.  Hospitals and bedrest and monitoring and medications…it was all so uncertain.  This time it’s different.  No monitoring or bedrest or complications.  I’ve just come back from a 2 week trip all the way across the country.  I should be ecstatic.  And I am.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’m going to have a daughter.  And that thought just brings tears to my eyes.  But then there is that part of me that asks the question, What if?  What if something starts to change with the pregnancy?  What if I end up on bedrest again?  I think of myself and the baby and my son and my husband and our finances and it’s all too overwhelming.

My husband and my family are very supportive.  But I know my husband wishes I didn’t worry so much.  Believe me, I long for the days when I was a carefree, fearless child.  But time and experience have changed all that.

We found out almost two weeks ago that we’re having a little girl.  Right away we named her.  My husband jokes that I’ve had her name picked out since I was fifteen.  He is probably right.  My mother-in-law bought our little girl her first outfit.  And I took a bold step and picked out two gorgeous dresses for her in Charleston.  Baby steps.  Let’s face it.  I’m attached.  Every kick and hiccup and movement just continues to seal the bond I already feel for her.

So while I’m overjoyed and thankful and beyond blessed to be pregnant with a healthy baby girl, I’m also torn between this nagging fear I have.  I guess the first step towards overcoming fear is admitting to myself that I’m afraid…and that I’m not in control.

My mom emailed me this Psalm to read this morning.  It couldn’t have come at a better time…

Psalm 91