It doesn’t get easier. Weeks have turned into months and I still worry. These monthly OB appointments sneak up on me and yet I’m always wishing one would come sooner so I can get the professional A-Ok. I worry about preterm labor, gaining too much weight, getting my blood drawn for that dang gestational diabetes test, and James’ overall health.
I often wish I could skip ahead 16 weeks, skip ahead to the part where the dreaded labor and delivery are behind us, where James is home, and Tim and I are jumping into life with a newborn. But then I begin worrying about colic and breast feeding and the mountain of things I don’t know about babies. It doesn’t get easier. I’m beginning to realize that parenting is one of those roles where causes for anxiety never stop. I look long term at James’ life and see endless opportunities for me to worry about his wellbeing, inside and out. All this worry and it doesn’t produce anything but more worry and unrest.
As a follower of Christ, I am familiar with biblical truths about worry. I know that tomorrow will worry about itself (Matthew 6:34), that if God cares about the little things like lilies and sparrows, we should not worry about food or clothes because He will take care of us (Luke 12:22), that prayer and thanksgiving should replace worry (Philippians 4:6).
But when I’m in the midst of worrying, I need something to pull me out of, not warn me against, anxiety. After studying Psalm 31 on a recent retreat, I have found that something. David utters a simple truth that has become and almost daily mantra in the face of my worry – “my times are in your hands.”
My times, James’ times, my family’s times are all in God’s almighty hands. I can release my firm grip on every circumstance that causes me anxiety, even if it’s one finger at a time, because I trust in the Lord. He IS my God.
You better bet I will be repeating this to myself at my OB appointment today…