Letting Faith Be Bigger Than Fear

When Josie was a newborn, every night that I would lay down to go to sleep after putting her down to sleep, I would immediately begin to panic. I can remember craving sleep so badly but being scared to go to sleep because I might not hear her if she needed me. That’s when I learned to turn my worries into a prayer. I would fall asleep while repeating “Worry about nothing, pray about everything…God, keep my baby safe” in my mind.

After a while, my fears began to lessen as I grew more confident in being a mom and Josie continued to grow bigger and stronger. When Moses came along, I had the familiar sense of panic set it at night during the first couple of weeks, but so did the familiar prayer.

For the past few days, I’ve been wearing a bracelet a former student gave me when Moses was about to have surgery to repair the hole in his heart. The bracelet simply says “Faith, Not Fear”.

That has been a struggle for me during the last couple of months.

I keep going back to a flippant comment I made back in early March when concern about this virus really began picking up. It was basically along the lines of “natural selection is still a thing and unfortunately some people are just going to be too weak to survive this”. Obviously, at the time I had no idea about the horrific, grim realities of this virus or that my son is included in the category of the weak. I also remember casually commenting that “ultimately God is in control despite our best efforts”. (I would seriously like to go back and slap myself across the face for being so nonchalant about it all.)

Because of Moses’ history with complications from RSV (aka “the common cold”), he is considered high risk. Also, there is some research coming out that the extra chromosome Moses has carries immune system genes that are overexpressed and may increase the chances that the virus will result in serious complications or death. So yeah, there’s that.

Earlier this week, he had a cardiology appointment to make sure the device that fixed the hole in his heart was still in place, not blocking any veins or arteries, and that there was no enlargement of his heart or increased pressure on his lungs. Thankfully, he got a glowing report from his echocardiogram and EKG.

So the good news is that his heart is healthy and strong.

When I talked to the cardiologist as well as the nurse practitioner from the Down syndrome clinic at Children’s Hospital, they both said that while it’s good news about his heart, there’s no way to predict how his body will respond when he is exposed to COVID-19. Their recommendation was to continue limited social contact and practice social distancing guidelines when we are around people.

As Tyson and I were talking about starting to see people again socially that evening, I could feel my heart beating faster. I can feel it now as I type just thinking about exposing Moses to the virus.

The thing is, the logical part of my brain (the “upstairs brain” as Dan Siegel would put it) knows that I can’t protect Moses from being exposed to COVID-19 any more than I can protect him from being exposed to the flu or RSV without completely isolating ourselves from the world. That’s just not possible for so many reasons, but one of the main ones is that it’s not fair to Josie. She’s a people person. She misses her friends. She misses her grandparents. She misses her cousins. She needs social interaction.

I also know that we simply don’t know how Moses will respond to COVID-19. He could be asymptomatic. He could have mild-to-moderate symptoms. He could require hospitalization. He could require ventilation. He could recover. He could not.

This is when the logical part of my brain is overtaken by the emotional part. The “downstairs brain”. The part that drowns out “Worry about nothing, pray about everything”.

Did you know that when a person is on a ventilator, the monitor that it’s hooked up to shows how much work the patient is doing as far as breathing? I didn’t know that until about 3 days after Moses had been on the ventilator. I noticed that the second wave form had two colors instead of just one. I want to say that it had been solid red, but then I noticed a little purple at the bottom of the wave. (I could be wrong about the colors, but it’s really beside the point.) The point is, I had been staring at that monitor, watching the waves, watching his heart rate, oxygen saturation level, and blood pressure numbers for 3 days, and I didn’t know that the middle wave, the red one, was showing that the machine was doing all the work for Moses. He was not doing any work to breathe. The ventilator was doing it all for him.

For three days.

Did you know that being on a ventilator means that you are on life support? I didn’t know that until about 3 months after Moses had been home and a friend mentioned how scary it must have been for him to be on life support. I remember shaking my head and telling her he hadn’t been on life support, just a ventilator. She gently told me that being on a ventilator was life support. When I looked it up later and saw that she was right, I was horrified.

Did you know that my worst fear is that I would have to watch my sweet boy be on life support again? To stare at the monitor and will him to do some of the work to breathe. To know that if he wasn’t on that ventilator, his body would grow too tired and too weak and his organs would begin shutting down.

Did you know that my absolute worst fear is that this time I wouldn’t get to bring him home?

To even think about it makes me want to hole up in my house with just the four of us until there is a vaccine and/or a proven, effective treatment for this stupid virus.

But I know that’s not healthy or fair for us. Even Moses. He needs more social interaction just as much as Josie does. Even staying home doesn’t guarantee he won’t somehow get it.

In short, I am not in control here. And that scares the shit out of me, more now than ever.

Trust me, I’ve been praying.

Every day.

For the health and safety of my whole family.

I’m doing my best to turn my worries into prayers and then trusting that God will hear and answer them the way I want him to.

A few weeks ago, I read an editorial by Bishop Edward Rice in which he reminds us that “faith is easy when everything is going well” and that some people think “…if I believe, then nothing bad should ever happen to me”. I agree with the first statement, and I know the second statement is not true. I also know that just because bad things do happen, it doesn’t mean that God has left me. It’s then that He’s with me the most. That He’s going to help me through the trials, heartbreak, and pain that come with life. That He’s going to hold me when I’m worn down and need to rest. And that He’ll give me the strength to keep moving forward.

As hard as it might be, I know it’s time to live by the words “Faith, Not Fear”. It’s time open our doors and begin to venture back out into the world. I’m not saying I’m ready to throw caution to the wind, start shouting “QUE SERA, SERA!”, and go hit up the next massive pool party. But I am ready to let my faith be bigger than my fears. To know and to trust that whatever God’s will is, whatever He has planned for Moses, Josie, Tyson, and me, He is in control and will be with us the whole time.

Fear can be paralyzing. Especially when the thing you fear is something you’ve experienced before. Faith is what allows you to be able to move again. It’s not always easy for us humans to let our faith be bigger than our fear, but thankfully we have a patient, understanding God who is always with us to help us get moving again.

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