It was a cool March evening, just days before my second child was going to be born. I rocked my son, Jude, looking down into his flushed, feverish face. He was fighting croup, a sickness all of my siblings and I have been hospitalized for. Worry was threatening to overwhelm my mind and heart — all those familiar feelings of fear and “what ifs” bombarding me.
Milk, eggs, chicken … I sat at our dining room table one morning in December, working on a shopping list. As I put the first few items down my heart was restless, but I tried to push away the uneasy feeling that arose inside of me.
I watched the funds in our bank account dwindle with every passing day. Abrupt recent changes to our economy had negatively affected both my husband’s and my job. We didn’t have much income on the horizon, and I was waking up daily with a sense of fear and restlessness about the future.