I’ll never forget the voice on the other end of the phone line. It was laced with a stern type of concern. Something was wrong with Avery, my three month old baby. Something was really wrong.
I was instructed to hurry home, but honestly I didn’t hurry all that much. I know that sounds crazy, but I had just held my daughter in my arms minutes earlier—I had rocked her and fed her and lay her in her play area under the care of her dad while I ran a quick errand. I couldn’t imagine that something was actually wrong. I remember asking God to calm my anxieties on the drive home—no sense of making a big deal out of something that surely wasn’t a big deal—that’s what I told myself. But as I arrived home, panic raced through my heart like streaks of lightening, permeating every thought and shattering through my preconceived notion that everything would be fine.
I found myself witnessing my perfectly healthy baby having a full body convulsive seizure. All the anxieties I had prayed away rushed to the surface, threatening to keep me frozen in my tracks. And that was just the first of many anxious moments to follow.
That one seizure spiraled into hundreds of seizures over the following months—each one leaving me wrecked and raw, unsure of how to move forward.
Fear—there was so much fear.
Fear to walk away even for a moment.
And anxiety—the anxiety of waiting often threatened to overtake us--waiting for the next seizure that had to be looming around the corner. Even on the good days, it was overwhelming.
I had never been an anxious person before. Stressed at times? Sure. But I had not until this point experienced true anxiety—the kind that is so real it’s physical. The kind that feels out of control.
The funny thing about this type of anxiety is that it’s justified, isn’t it? At least I justified it. It’s not like many types of clinical anxiety that can often stem from exaggerated worry or unrealistic fears. This anxiety come from real life experiences—scary, horrific experiences that many of us as parents to special needs kids have to live out over and over again.
As I wrestled with God on how to handle this anxiety I found myself face to face with some basic biblical truth.
I didn’t trust God with my child.
Yikes—I know!
I want to make it complicated and complex because that’s how it felt in my heart, but it really boiled down to that basic truth. I was struggling to surrender my child and her diagnosis to the Lord. I didn’t want to because if I released this thing to the Lord that meant I no longer had control and I wanted to fix this. I desperately wanted to make this right for her—somehow.
I couldn’t imagine that any other person in the whole world cared for my child or loved her the way I did. And my anxiety over her future spoke of that.
In those early days the anxiety was palpable. Truthfully though, as I walk this journey the anxiety has not gone away. It has settled some, but it’s certainly present. Some days it’s better and some days it’s worse. From time to time my anxieties come to fruition right in front of my eyes. I still struggle to trust God with my child, especially as I continue to watch seizures wreak havoc on her body and brain.
But day by day and moment by moment I’m learning to let go.
I’m reminded that the depth of love my Heavenly Father offers is so much more than I could ever give. Therefore He loves and cares for my child as much as—no, far greater that I.
Practically this means making a choice—one that still does not come easily. I choose to capture my anxious thoughts and replace them with prayers. I choose to submit my mind and heart to the Lord asking Him to help me trust better and more fully. I choose to keep my eyes on eternity—knowing God has already made all things right for my child in a way I never could.
And I choose to let the process unfold, allowing His grace to meet me on the days where it all feels out of control, seeking wise counsel, and treatment when and if necessary—grateful for a God who is trustworthy, even when my human frailty falls short.
Sarah Lango is a momma of 3, wife, writer, speaker, Jesus follower, and coffee lover from small town Missouri. She is the founder of Gracefilled Growth, where she writes about her faith, marriage, motherhood journey, and her experience of special needs parenting. Her passion is to inspire others to live authentic lives, learning together, and embracing the grace that God so lovingly offers. You can read more of Sarah’s writing at www.gracefilledgrowth.com.
