When I was pregnant with my son, the obstetrician's office that I attended would have a group meet-up with other women who were also having babies around the same time as I was. We'd sit around for an hour or two discussing all kinds of topics from pregnancy, to being a mom (or soon to be mom), and just about everything else. It was a great group of ladies and I had a lot of fun attending, especially as a first-time mom.
One day, as we sat around in a circle, my midwife had asked everyone if they had any worries, cares, or concerns that they'd like to talk about. I went first and shared how I just hoped and prayed that my son would be healthy and that everything would go okay with the birth. Then I blurted out how I'm pretty much worried about anything and everything. Perhaps it was because the road to becoming blessed with a baby was little bumpy or maybe it was just maternal instincts setting in early. Honestly it could've been a little of both. As I talked, I could feel the tears swell up in my eyes as I tried to hold them back.