The Fear

I was never afraid of hospitals or doctors. Once, when I was 8, my aunt got sick, and we all went to see her in California. I remember seeing her laying there in her bed, wispy gray hairs replaced her beautiful shiny jet black hair and her thin face and broad smile was diminished, almost unrecognizable. I didn't know we were saying goodbye at the time as we each gently kissed her cheek, but as I look back, I think it must have been one of her last wishes for her boys not to associate hospitals with fear and death and pain.

This past January Kyle and I lost a pregnancy. A baby. Our baby. It was first trimester-- later in the first trimester--just enough time for us to get excited about our new addition. I'll skip most of the details and the emotions and the ever-so-slow, day-by-day healing that comes with this. I won't talk about the beauty that came from my child's short life, and I won't talk about the gift of life we were given just a few months later, but I just want to talk about this one part:

THE FEAR

The FEAR was never there before. With my two other kids, ultrasounds made me giddy with excitement! I marveled at how I could see every little movement and feel them at the same time, I went with my husband, I went alone, I didn't care! I just loved seeing my babies! The FEAR has replaced that excitement and it is not of doctors, or ultrasounds, or that stirrup contraption that they make you sit in. It wasn't of the cold jelly or the whir of the hospital machines or the crisp sheet they gave me to wrap around my waist. No, the FEAR was of the silence.

You see, I've learned something: when the news is good, the talk is easy and light, but when the news is bad, there is an eerie silence as the technician avoids eye contact and works swiftly. I remember both times clearly--my mind takes me back there in bits and pieces, I remeber searching her face for some indication that everything is OK, but the sinking feeling in my heart told me otherwise, as it tried to prepare me against my will for the unthinkable. The silence. The hallway whispers. The somber face of the physician. The seemingly far-away voices and the spinning room, my heart beating in my throat. This was the heart of the FEAR.

I always thought that fear felt like worry--like when like when you send your child off to school for the first time, or your husband is late and won’t answer his phone. Or the way I feel when I think of my son’s future as he lives with disability. Or maybe it felt like the first day at a new job, wondering if you’re going to be able to keep up with brand-new fast paced demands. Or maybe even when you are taking the trash out and you look up and see a bear looking at you in your backyard (that has actually happened to me). Maybe it does feel like all of these things in some way, but the FEAR was something different. It started as a date on the calendar that I anticipated day after day. As it approached, of course I began to talk about it—the tone I used was excited, but the joy I felt was reserved and my thoughts worried. A few weeks before I found out that my husband would not be able to attend. I secretly, quietly panicked and pushed the date out of my mind. Changed my focus. Two days before, I casually asked a friend who had graciously accompanied me before, and much to my relief she was available! You see, the FEAR was crippled when I wasn’t alone.

The day of, I found out I would be facing the FEAR for the first time alone. It was full blown, and intense in a way that didn’t even make sense to me. Why was I like this? Why couldn’t I do this? Why are my hands shaking and why is the world starting to spin. This FEAR is silly, I tried to tell myself. I whispered to myself ‘everything is fine’ while simultaneously hearing an echo of that mantra that I whispered before…when everything was not fine, and when the FEAR began. Of course I went to my appointment, and yes, everything is fine.

It would be nice to say that the FEAR is gone now. That my controlled breathing and determined focus banished it to the depths and replaced it with the joy and excitement and eager anticipation from before. I would like to say that I faced the FEAR that day and now it’s gone, conquered, vanquished…but that’s not how it works. Our struggles in life are not against the world, not against our circumstances or our enemies or bank accounts or politics or anything tangible. Our real struggles are within ourselves, they are the lies that we here in our heads day in and day out. "You're not good enough" "You're going to fail" "Everything you love will be taken from you" "You will lose, in the end" or in the case of my FEAR "Listen, here comes the Silence". Our battle, our daily battle is against these lies and every day, we are fighting these lies. My FEAR is legitimate and based on past experience, yes, but it is a hindrance to joy that has already been given to me.

So no, the FEAR is not gone, it is always there but I am not helpless to it, it does not overcome me and time and time again. But the the peace. The God-given peace that I take hold of day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute is a peace that surpasses anything that I have experienced,and it is also ever present, it's more powerful than anything I will ever fear--even the FEAR.