Somewhere along the way of this motherhood journey I became bound by fear. Not the type of fear that is centered around the specifics of the children but instead the specifics of me: my words, my actions, my disconnect, my uncertainty, my expression of love, how I interact, my wisdom, my mortality. I became so engulfed with being afraid of life vanishing from my body, that I began to feel like I wasn't living life.
I've always had more fear than faith; a very scary kid and sometimes a scary adult. The details of my story made my glass seem half empty and I carried that with me into motherhood. Trying to pull optimism from places of unfamiliarity, fear began to rob me of moments the minute I found out I was pregnant.
I never imagined being a mother. Being a mother meant I had to get married (because being a child outside of marriage and seeing the results of that situation, marriage always had to come first, if at all) and I never wanted to get married. I was a very selfless friend but a pretty selfish twenty something (as most are) but just the thought of someone depending on me with their life was terrifying.
After 3.5 years of marriage we found out we were expecting, despite my doctor telling me months prior that I couldn't have children naturally; that I would need medication to help me conceive. I knew this would be a special kid. I battled with God the entire 9 months about how I know I prayed for this child, in a very Hannah fashion, (primarily after hearing that I might not be able to have one naturally) but I was pretty sure He made a mistake. His mistake, in my opinion, was that he was giving a girl, who was still VERY much so a hot mess, a child and entrusting that I provide a great foundation.
Having always been afraid of failure, I knew this was the perfect setup for it to happen. I wasn't sure how to love someone other than myself and after 3.5 years of marriage I wasn't sure I had that agape love down as a wife as best as I could. I was afraid of being not enough but when he arrived, those fears shifted from fear of failing to fear of abandonment.
A great piece of my story is that I battled with abandonment as a child. Not having my father around, something so many young girls of color struggle with, became the breeding ground for a void I would try desperately to fill in all the wrong places.
My fear of having children, once I searched for the root of it, boiled down to this battle. I began, well the enemy began, to fill my mind with thoughts of that "curse" happening to my children. That something would happen to me and they would be left to battle abandonment. It became a struggle I didn't share with anyone because I believe in the power of the tongue to shape our world. After a miscarriage and then conceiving Cole, the fear intensified as I began to subtly prepare myself and my husband for the "what ifs." I was in too deep and there wasn't any reason for me to be buried and gripped by such an intense feeling.
It's a great example of how the enemy can have you thinking and running with something that is absolutely absurd. My breaking point was when my oldest started school in August. He's very intrigued by growing older (which is devastation to his mother lol) and his discussions are usually centered around statements that begin with, "when I'm *insert random age* I'm going to______."
As the queen of hypothetical conversations this does not surprise me that my kid has this type of dialogue but as someone who was being choked with fear, those conversations would wreck me (and not in a super spiritual way). Our talks went from basic discussions about the future to silent teary eyed, frog swallows because I was afraid if I answered his questions they would return lies.
I was crying on the way to school every day, afraid that I would miss the next year of school. My fear had me bound day to day that I no longer WANTED to dream about the future.
What makes me continue to push the conversation about #whatsyourstory is that the story of another woman, battling this EXACT thing that I thought I was experiencing completely alone, is how I received my freedom.
She spoke at our women's conference, SHE is Brave, in September, and I sat in awe at the similarities of our stories. She was in full tears as she shared how fear had her in bondage for years but just having someone who would listen without trying to fix or rush her out of her struggle, changed her life.
Just weeks prior I considered telling someone about how I had been feeling but didn't.
God met me right where I was, trying to shake something in my own (lack of) strength that only He could remove but it took me coming to that place of surrender.
To be frank, I didn't want to hear the scriptures, the ones that I repeated multiple times daily, about God not giving us a spirit of fear because my reality was, I was DROWNING in it.
I didn't want to be judged for my lack of faith or my abundance of shame or my extreme level of overthinking to the point of daily tears.
I wanted to KNOW that I WASN'T ALONE.
Period.
I wanted to hear that God still loves "even me" and discover that my story is also HER story and possibly YOURS.
She was a God send at a critical point in my life and for her story I am forever grateful.
"There are lies that come into your life that, if you aren't connected to someone else, you will begin to believe it. We don't let people in enough, to bring their strength in, to make us better. You're not supposed to figure it out on your own..."
What's your story?
Unveil Your Ashes, Reveal His Beauty!
#pressOn
"God met me more than halfway,
he freed me from my anxious fears."
- Psalm 34:4 (MSG)
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| We survived 101 Days of school |
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| Turning 5 in three months |
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| The real boss |
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| Countdown to 2 |
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