little fears in the dark

Almost every night this week, I've woken up out of a peaceful sleep with the almost crippling fear that I'll go into labor without Mark here.  We're so close to the end of his training, but the closer we get to it, the closer we get to Roscoe's due date.  The anxiety that can create, even in an easy-going person, is intense.

Now it isn't like the world would end for us if this did happen.  Hopefully I would have the sense to not ignore the signs thinking they'd disappear.  That'd be a typical Anne Marie reaction.  But I doubt Roscoe would care.  Instead I'd call my midwife and let her in on what I'm feeling, find out if it's labor, and then immediately call Mark.  He'd be on the way and then I'd call Mom to come over and hold my hand til he got here.

I just have in my mind the perfect picture that Mark comes home and I'm still pregnant.  Very pregnant.  And we get another date.  We haul my big ole pregnant belly to a restaurant and enjoy each other's company one last time as just us before even giving a thought to "I wonder if the babysitter is having problems" or "Did Roscoe finish his bottle ok?"  or "Gosh I hope he's not crying inconsolably right now."

It's funny-- once it's daylight and I'm up and around for the day, there are no problems or fears.  Even if I think I feel the tiniest 'feeling' down there, it's almost a relief.  Maybe I can call Mark and he can come home today and we can have this baby.  Something about daytime makes the thought not quite as scary.  As if I would be more in control of the situation if it started in the daylight.  What is it about darkness and nighttime that brings out the little childlike fears in us?

I'm trying to turn my mind from dwelling on my own thoughts to dwelling on truth.  And I'm talking Biblical truth, not scientific "truths."  I don't want or need to hear stats on the fact that first time mothers rarely deliver early.  That doesn't make my husband appear in bed beside me in the middle of the night.  And it doesn't comfort me either.  But truths-- like the fact that God already has a plan for me, and that whatever it is, it's good.  Like the fact that God cares for me.  He even cares about this petty little fear that wakes me up when it's dark.

Those truths don't make Mark appear out of nowhere either.  But, oh, the comfort....