Butting Heads with God

As a mother, it drives me nuts when Brendan wants to do something that I know he can't quite handle on his own. He and I are two stubbon peas in a pod. As much as I want to help him, he yearns to do it on his own. And he will pull away forcefully, shouting "NO! I DO IT MYSELF!" All the while, I'm getting angry and frustrated because I know it will go much more smoothly/cleanly/efficiently and faster if I help.

Clearly, I know I'm wrong. I know that he has to do things on his own to learn, but because I'm stubborn and impatient and want things done my way, I often find I can't help myself.

Today, I think I must know how God feels as I'm coming at him in the same stubborn, angry, and reproachful way Brendan reacts when I try to help him.

I'm not very good at being open to God's will, though I'll be darned if He doesn't just go ahead and keep asserting it anyway. I want to feel like I'm in control. I want to make the decisions that affect my life. It scares me to feel like someone else is in charge, even if I know deep down that's the case.

Right now, I'm kind of freaking out. I may be pregnant and I'm not ready. Theoretically, I'm ready. I'm ready to say, "Hey! We're trying to get pregnant with our second child" and to enjoy the process that takes us there. I'm ready to have a couple of months with negative pregnancy tests and a sense of disappointment that ultimately gets overshadowed when I actually get pregnant in the third month of trying.

I'm not ready to have gotten pregnant when we weren't trying. It scares me. It's happened to us twice before and both times ended in miscarriage.

I know that if I am pregnant, I should be thrilled and delighted, especially considering all the women who would give anything to be in my shoes. And I will be happy and excited to have another baby, a sibling for my darling boy. But, what about all the things that can go wrong with any pregnancy, even in the best of circumstances. Imagine being 36, someone who has a glass of wine to unwind every night, and who has a never-ending allergy attack and has been popping cold/sinus/cough medicine for the last two weeks to keep from hacking up a lung.

I'm not happy. I'm petrified.

And of course, along with all of this is the beating myself up over how I'll be responsible if something goes wrong. That it will be all my fault if something goes wrong.

I wish I could just let go of my fears and worries and just trust God. Why is that so hard?