Gratitude Friday...

Yesterday, I mentioned my long night with poor, sick baby Rhys.  He gagged and threw up twice.  He was sucking in the mucus and then trying to cough it back up.  Even though I was at the ready with the bulb sucker, I was no match for his lightening fast sucking.  When I did get the chance to suck, it would come out clean.  Sigh.

I could tell he was uncomfortable and scared.  Goodness, he's only been breathing nine weeks.  Something getting in the way of that has to be more than a little off-putting.  

It was horrible for me to watch.  So much so that fear started to take over pretty quickly.

Fear is not something I dealt with regularly before mommyhood.  

Maybe it's my personality.  I'm a "Look, there's a glass with liquid in it" girl.  And honestly, I probably go a little further and add a "Might as well go ahead and wash the glass."  My feathers simply don't get ruffled over the "what if's" in life.  

Maybe it's a product of lessons learned.  I remember riding in the car with my parents discussing our family move or my grandmother's way too early death or even my dad's health struggles when I was a child.  They were always showing me how God used those situations.  Despite the pain we felt in the midst of those times, we could always look back and see God's grace.      

Maybe its because the darkest fear I have ever battled was the fear of not being a mom.  That first year of trying and in my gut knowing there was something wrong was the darkest valley. For me.  Later in the journey, God was able to convince me I would be a mom but those early days, I was inconsolable.  

Likely it's a combination of all of those.  

Whatever the reason, fear doesn't tend to snuggle in and set up residence in my heart.

Unless I am watching my sweet nine week old baby boy struggling with a cold.  

After he threw up the first time, I could feel fear creeping in and taking hold.  It landed on my shoulder like a boulder falling from the sky.  I watched him throw up and boom...fear hit.  

Satan saw his opportunity and he didn't wait around.  Boom.

My prayers changed from asking to a pleading.  Lord, please heal my baby to Lord, please don't take my baby.  

I was crying and holding Rhys so tight.  My heart was breaking and I could literally feel myself sinking into that fear.  Lord, please don't take my baby.

I was heavy.  Rhys was heavy.  The fear was heavy.  Lord, please don't take my baby.

It happened so fast and honestly, it took me ten minutes or so to realize what had happened.  And I knew I couldn't and shouldn't fight this battle on my own.  So I did what I have done so often in the past four years.  I reached out to my prayer warriors.  Just a quick text message but I knew that's all they needed.

And those women immediately started praying.   

I know because less than an hour later, the fear was gone.  Not just under control but gone.  

I could breathe.  

During the night, I got texts back when they were praying. It was amazing. 

A. Maz. Ing.

Without a doubt, fear will come again.  I'm a mom.  If there were a job description, it would be listed close to the top.  And when it does come, text messages will be sent again.  

I am grateful for Godly women I can reach out to in the middle of the night.  Grateful for the technology to be able to do so!  Grateful their prayers were answered and fear was defeated.

But I am most grateful to my Savior.  Grateful to know fear is not from Him.  Grateful to know He has defeated fear.  Grateful for His peace.  And grateful He has given me a spirit of power.

"For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind." ~ 2 Timothy 1:7