I had my day all planned out. Carter was going to hang out with grandma, I had grocery shopping to do, I found a walk-in hair cut place to go to, and I made last minute lunch plans with a friend. About 10 minutes before I was ready to walk out the door, my heart started racing. It does this from time to time, so I wasn’t very concerned. I laid down and elevated my feet above my heart and began watching the clock to see how long it lasted so I could tell my doctor. Usually after about 3 minutes it regulates itself, I rest and then go about my day again. 5 minutes. 10 minutes. I called David and asked him to come home in case it didn’t slow down. 20 minutes. 30 minutes. 45 minutes. Nothing I was doing was making it slow down. I started feeling nauseous and finally agreed to let David take me to the hospital.  I heard back from my doctor and she agreed.

Halfway there, it started getting hard to breathe. I was trying so hard to keep a regular breathing pattern and fight off the panic attack that was just below the surface. Fear was sneaking in. How long could my heart beat this fast and not cause harm to me and the baby? If I wasn’t pregnant, the fear would have been a lot less, but here I am responsible for another little life and I had absolutely no control over anything.

By the time we got to the hospital my heart had been at a steady 162 bpm for an hour and a half. I was shaky, light-headed, and could barely get my breath enough to talk to the nurse. They got me back within just a few minutes and began hooking up the stickers for the EKG. As soon as they put the last sticker on, my heart decided it was done beating that fast and just regulated itself. Another minute and the EKG would have picked up the intense heart rate, but instead, it recorded a little bit higher than average heart rate. My blood pressure was great. Everything appeared normal even though it had been far from normal for an hour and a half.

I had zero control over any of it. Just as quickly as it came on, it left. Aside from feeling a little nauseous and very tired, life went right back to normal; but it could have just as easily taken a turn for the worse. I realized that no matter how well-laid out our plans are, we have no guarantee of anything. I have all these plans for my life, big and small, but that’s all they are is plans. Things can change in an instant and there’s absolutely nothing we can do. God is the only one who knows the definitive plan. I spend so much of my time trying to make things happen in a way that works for me and my schedule that it takes such occasions as yesterday to remind me how little control I actually have.

Stuff like that has a way of putting things in perspective, doesn’t it? I woke up today not as worried about self-imposed deadlines and agendas. Other stuff will wait. Growing this little life inside of me is a pretty big deal and rest and taking care of myself is pretty important. God’s in control, not me. And I’m okay with that.