Anticipating Heartbreak

I'm ashamed of what I'm about to admit to you.
I am a fearful person.
I'm not talking of my very notorious fear of spiders, which is pretty big!
It's a life lived enslaved by fear.

It shames me to no extent when I consider all my beautiful Lord has done for me and in me.
Considering where I've come from and where He has taken me, how He has never forsaken us, and His blessing is continuosly present, I have no excuse for this shameful lack of faith.

Let me tell you about my wedding.
The wedding day is one of a girl's most expected days, described constantly as the "happiest day of your life." I don't believe in such hyperboles, but my wedding day was a very exciting and highly expected day for me. Except for a minor detail: we had relatives coming to the wedding from the USA, Mexico, and San Pedro Sula. Don't ask me why (it's probably my fatalistic, pessimistic self), but I was convinced- yep, that's the word: conviced- that someone was going to die on their travels to my wedding.

Isn't it my unbelief that I can be that happy with nothing bad happening? As my wedding day came closer and each relative arrived safely, the weighing burden in my heart was slightly alleviated, with the lingering expectation that something bad was still around the corner, like something could still happen to them in the way back.

This story is just aperture to portray how fearful I am.
Being such a fearful person, I've developed a few protective bad habits that follow me still.
The worst of them is: if you don't hope for it, you're not heart broken when it doesn't happen.
This practice works wonders with movies and books: lower your expectations a little so that when you finish the book or the movie the result is above your expectations and you enjoy it thoroughly. This doesn't work well with life changing events; for instance, an upcoming baby?

People ask me "Have you thought of names? Have you decided on the colors of the nursery? What are your feelings?"

1 Corinthians 13:13
13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.

I answer "It's too early for that yet. We are still in shock." 
The truth: I didn't want to think of those things. I don't want to name him/her (which for writing's sake we'll say him because it is too it) if it won't end with him on my arms, and I singing his name. I don't want to fantasize and plan a room that could end up empty, evidence of all my hopes and dreams shattered. 
I am afraid to hope. 

Faith is being convinced of what we heard but didn't see. Hope is waiting for that faith to come. Love is the fullfillment of our hope. With no hope, there's no love. 

Last wednesday I had a pretty ugly scare. 
I saw blood on the toilet and my mind ran away with me in seconds. 
I called the doctor, who said it was normal and nothing bad was happening and I should stay calm.
It was impossible. I went up the office's balcony and cried my eyes out and plead. 
I called the doctor a second time, who reassured me my baby and I were fine.
Not even her words could calm me. I begged her to see me that day. She agreed to see me last. Waiting for the time for my appointment was torture.  

Only seeing could calm me. 
There he was. Smaller than my fingertips. It was strange that his heartbeat was so visible. 
There you were unwilling to fantasize about how he'll look and what his name will be because you are too afraid of your own heartbreak, and there he is, heart beating strong. 
His heart is already beating! Your hopes and dreams HAVE come true. He lives already and you love him more than your own life. 

Why would you want to anticipate heartbreak? 
Is pain really that bad?
Why are you so afraid of it?
Would you feel better if the Lord decided to take him early and you weren't left in pieces because you didn't get your hopes high so you wouldn't really be disappointed? 
His heart beats! 

I could hear Jesus words: "Woman of little faith. You had to see to believe."

Oh, Father, I'm sorry.
His heart already beats and I already want to talk to him about You. 
I want to sing him the lullabies I long ago wrote for him.
On my belly, he'll hear the songs I sing only to You in our time alone, and now with him.  
I want to dream-nay, hope! I have a hope. I have a deep love.  
If he is a boy, his name is Rodolfo Alberto Zelaya Ulloa. I imagine him with his father's light brown hair and perfect smile and his mother's skin and stature.
If she is a girl, her name is Danielle Lilly Zelaya Ulloa. I imagine her with her mother's long, straight hair and her father's green eyes. 

Dear baby,
I already think of you every minute every day. 
I want to start teaching you the important things in life: like being a dog lover! 
You have three dogs you'll love to pull their ears. Don't worry, they won't bite.
They'll love to chase you on our huge backyard. 
Don't be surprised if at first they're a little jealous of you. They learn to overlook the fact that you are the center of attention when they learn you love them back. 

 Dear Lord,
Please forgive my unbelief. Your goodness has been without measure. I have no excuse to let thoughts like these take control over me. Make me seek Your Word and when in the valley of death remember You are my shepherd, not only guiding me but caring for me. I love You, Father. Thank You for the life beating inside of me and fulfilling my hopes and dreams.
I forever love You!

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