Consumed by Fear

My dog is scared of everything. She's afraid of tumbling dryers, laundry baskets, squeaky toys and closing doors. She hides under tables, runs from opened refrigerators and flees dropped sweatshirts. And she's so afraid of our trash cans that when we go for a walk, she drags me almost into the neighbor's yard to avoid them.

Like my poor dog, moms can be controlled by fear, too. We're afraid our kids will get hurt on the merry-go-round, so we focus on their grip rather than their grin. We don't let them make mud cakes, worried about some sinister bacteria. Our worst fear is that we will somehow fail as mothers. Fear can consume our thoughts; what we've known to be true, such as the goodness and faithfulness of God, can become gray or forgotten.

The slide of anxiety

When my daughter was a baby, I feared so many things. Mostly, I feared failure. What if I wasn't patient or loving enough? What if something terrible happened because I didn't protect her? I'd even sneak back to her preschool, fearful she might be abused by one of the teachers. I lived in perpetual anxiety, agonizing over instead of enjoying this short chapter of motherhood.

I crossed the line from anxiety to clinical depression with her first dentist appointment. She had to leave me for X-rays, and even though she was only gone a few minutes, I became overwhelmed by the irrational fear that the technician had done something bad to her. I was flushed with guilt that I hadn't protected her. The doubt, the fear and the remorse crippled me. I could no longer eat. I barely slept. Every few hours, I would bolt out of sleep in terror, as though I were in mid-plunge on the world's tallest roller coaster.

My depression and fear grew into an obsessive-compulsive disorder. I began washing my hands so often they cracked and bled. I thought my hand washing was an attempt to control the germs that might hurt my baby. In reality, it was a desperate attempt to control my fear.

Learning to trust

Fear pulls us from God when we resort to our own limited ability rather than His unlimited resources. And He allows us to pull away until, exhausted, we're finally ready to trust Him.

God helped me as He proved himself stronger than the pull of fear. When I decided to trust Him, He freed me from a worry-driven life.

I've often imagined Him saying to me: "Why are you so fearful, My child? You have My word that you need not be afraid because I am with you always." I know this truth and must hold on to it. God loves my children. Yes, they'll stumble, get sick and make mistakes. But my heavenly Father will protect them.

Antidepressant medication helped stabilize my thoughts and emotions so I could overcome my fears and learn to trust God. I also started spending time with other mothers who were more relaxed and carefree. I could see that their kids were all right, so it helped me to be more at ease.

Do I still worry? Yes — my daughter is now 13! I don't think I'll meet a worry-free mother until I get to heaven. But unlike my frightened dog, fear doesn't control me because I know and now believe that God is in control.