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. 

Confessing my survival mode

     I have a confession. I am apparently a tad bit fearful of change. Anxious. It makes me nervous. My palms are sweating as I begin to think about it.  
     The worst part is admitting this. Confession of this sort is kind of a big deal, and I'd rather hold onto this little shameful secret. I live most of my life pretending I'm carefree, and well, that's a lie. 
     So I'm admitting to you today that I am uptight. And I don't like change. Strange, huh? From a woman who puts together a one-woman mission trip to Africa in four weeks? I do LIKE adventures and though I do struggle sometimes, I am pretty decent at being obedient. Unfortunately, neither of those facts changes the truth that I have some real struggle with change. 
     It's important for me to work through these feelings right now because we are getting ready to list our home for sale. It's a process that started over a year ago when the I sensed God was urging me to, "Get ready for a move." 
     After joining a new church earlier this year, I thought for sure God's message was just about moving to a new church. That process was painful, difficult and challenging. God and I wrestled through emotions and my disobedience as I wanted so much to hold on to something God wanted me to let go of. Finally, after hearing clearly where God wanted me and my family to worship, I started getting content. I could ease into this. I was just getting comfortable. 
     Until our family was hit with a financial reality check. The little pie chart that Dave Ramsey uses for financial budgets was off-balance. We were spending too much of our income (er, uh, my husband's income) on housing. Two years of me with virtually no income had caught up with our family.
     It was time to reassess God's message. 
     Fortunately it was an easy decision to make. We NEED to move. We aren't living practically. We aren't living obediently. And we aren't able to do all the other things God is calling us to do with so much of our monthly income wrapped up in a mortgage payment. 
     The hard part is the preparation. Getting the house ready when one room is still in the process of renovation is a frustrating proposition. And our schedules are nightmares. But little by little, we are making strides, and hopefully in two or three weeks, there will be a for-sale sign up in our front yard. 
     As we walk through these steps, it occurs to me that I may be giving up more than just a home. I went from no worries to amped up anxiety like a car revving an engine. We don't need to live in our small community because I am homeschooling. That will help us find the best house for our budget. 
     This means more changes than just our dwelling. It may mean a new community. It may mean giving up the church I just joined that I love so much. It will mean new neighbors and friends, and possibly living an hour away from the best friends I've ever had in my entire life. 
     And, well, (GULP) that kind of change feels uncomfortable. It makes me think I should worry just a little. Even though I know I shouldn't. Even though I know that I should and I do trust God entirely. Even though I know it will all work out for our good and His glory. It doesn't stop my flesh from feeling fleshly things....like the stress of change. 
     Yes, I know that I know about the spiritual stuff. I know this is where I get to CHOOSE to have peace. But I thought you should know that even though I know, and even though it's the freedom I am privileged to experience because of the cross, I still must take it up with God daily. 
     Every day, I have to start with a prayer. I call it my survival mode. It's how I will make it from here to there. It's how I get from despair to joy and from chaos to peace. And sometimes, truth be told, I am in survival mode all day long, calling on God and drawing near because the human part of me still wants to freak out about the possibilities of the impending changes. 
     I needed to out myself, because it seems my family is virtually ready to do it anyway. They know I worry, as my mother is a worrier and her mother before her. Oddly enough, the sermons at my church have been focused on the sin of anxiety. So I'm dealing with it. I'm keenly aware, and I've got my eyes fixed upon Jesus, who heals and restores. He is my ultimate survival mode.