Overcoming my late-in-life pregnancy fears

     So, I'm probably about to have blog-rrhea. There was so much I wanted to write while pregnant, and the truth is...I was terrified to put my thoughts into writing during those months. 
     It was one of the most fearful seasons of my life.
     Fear...
     ...I would lose the baby. 
     ...something serious was wrong with the baby. 
     ...of our home sale falling apart. 
     ...that putting my kids back in public school was the wrong decision. 
     ...we wouldn't be able to afford another child. 
     ...of every single symptomatic issue I had in pregnancy. (Yes, I spent a lot of time on Google. Then I admitted I had a problem, promised to stay off the Internet and relapsed after about 24 hours. I realize I have issues!)
     ...that if I talked about any of this, something dreadful would happen. 
     ...I would gain too much weight, not be able to lose the weight after the pregnancy.
     ...I would succumb to food addictions.  
     ...of giving birth naturally, which I was trying to commit myself to doing but even my efforts left me doubting I could. 
     ...God would hate me or punish me for so many fears and doubts. 
      ...of my fears. (My anxiety disorder seemed so under control until this....all of this. It was overwhelming!)
     So I didn't write them. Or speak them. 
     But they haunted me. 
     ...at every doctor's appointment. 
     ...with every snide comment about my age in pregnancy. 
     ...in every headline about a stillbirth or studies about the dangers of pregnancy "late in life." 
     ...during the day and into the night. 
     ...as I listened to a horrendous podcast about depression in pregnancy (1 in 3 women suffer, almost always in silence) and wondered if it was me the author was describing. 
     ...with all the insomnia bouts that returned with a vengeance in my third trimester. 
     I was so glad God was speaking to me during this time and reassuring me. But me, in Amy-the-persistent-worrier fashion, continued to doubt and question. For every worry or fear, I grasped onto the one person who could bring me peace and reassurance. I had to keep going back to Him time and time again because I had such a restless spirit. I think He probably had me right where He wanted me. But I couldn't help shake my feelings of inadequate faith. It was touch and go. 
     I wish I could say that I had a great support network. I definitely had friends who were checking in on me and a husband who was there to listen to all my insecurities. 
     But for every friend who was supportive, there were three people who were negative. Some were silently protesting. Others whispered behind my back. I felt every sting. We received comments like, "How could you be so stupid (to get pregnant at your age)?" "Do you know how this happens?" and my all-time favorite said right to my face, "You're f----ed." 
     Many of these comments came from so-called friends. 
     It was so hard to share our news, not knowing what the reaction would be from a world where the attitudes about a fetus fall more along the lines of a "clump of cells," rather than my precious daughter, a life, a creation of God's. 
     An older woman having a baby seemed foolish. Heck, even I was skeptical in the beginning. It certainly wasn't our plan. 
     But it was our prayer. It was just a prayer from seven years prior...long forgotten. 
     At least we'd forgotten. 
     But someone hadn't. That one person — all holy and almighty — didn't forget the cries of my heart. And deep down, I trusted His timing. He said no to my prayer then. But He said yes to my prayer in this chapter. 
     So I trusted in Him, while so many others disappointed. 
     Faith. But a shaky, insecure, immature faith, to be sure. 
     Still, a glorious story unfolded in spite of my fears when my beautiful baby entered the world. 

Our sweet daughter, born in God's timing as His plan unfolds for our lives.

     She came naturally. But not without trouble. Her positioning was wrong. Labor, which I thought would be fast and not nearly as painful for all my preparation, didn't deliver on those promises. 
     But I was reminded that God doesn't promise life will be easy. He simply promises He will walk through it with us. 
     The birthing plan I had, the techniques I had practiced and prayed upon did not work out like I had hoped. But the scriptures I had written out on notecards gave me the hope and reassurance I need. Just as His word and my relationship with Him carried me through each day of the pregnancy. 
     Indeed, I was never alone. And I knew, no matter what happened to me or the baby, He would help me through it. After all, this was His plan, unfolding in His timing in answer to a deep prayer of my heart.