“We can’t fix her.”

I couldn’t believe what I was reading. It was New Year’s Day, we had just finished dinner, and I was checking email on my phone. The message was from Leah’s daycare provider, telling me everything that was wrong with Leah and why I couldn’t bring her back.

She wasn’t the easiest kid in the world, I knew that. She had just turned two and her fits were epic; she rebelled against diaper changes; and, though not yet verbal, was very proficient with the words “no” and “mine.” But was she broken?

Only two short months before, I was feeling so confident. Leah had just started daycare with a woman named Pam, and it was going really well. Leah loved it – she never wanted to leave when I went to pick her up – and Pam gave me some badly-needed confidence about my parenting skills.

But that only lasted two weeks, and then Pam had a medical emergency and had to close down her business. I was devastated, but found a new place fairly quickly and thought it was going ok . . . until I received the email. There had been a few issues, but nothing to prepare me for such a callous and mean-spirited message. I was angry but I was also afraid – afraid that there was some truth to what she said, and afraid that I couldn’t trust my own judgment.

It was with fear and caution that I started looking for a new daycare. I found a woman with a home daycare who was very kind, very stable, and had lots of experience, all of which was reassuring. But only a couple of hours into the first day, she was texting, asking me questions. “Had there been issues before? What happened with the last daycare?” And – more disturbing – “What does her doctor say?”

I picked Leah up early that day. I took her again on Friday, but wasn’t surprised when the daycare owner called me before noon to say that she didn’t feel equipped to handle Leah.

Fear settled in my heart like an ice-cold weight. That night, I couldn’t stop crying. Was something wrong with Leah? Had I done something wrong as a parent? What were we going to do?

The next day I went to a seminar at Hope called From Fear to Freedom. I heard other women talk about their fears and we read scripture together. There was one verse in particular that really spoke to me, from Isaiah 43: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you.”

I felt God reminding me that He was with me. During a time of listening prayer a few years earlier, when I was feeling the rejection and sting of divorce, I heard Him say, “Nicole, I know your name.” And here he was reminding me again. He hadn’t forgotten and I wasn’t alone.

I started to feel less afraid.

I let the ladies in my small group know what was going on, and received many encouraging emails and texts. They prayed for me. I also received encouragement from friends and family.

The following Wednesday was a MOPS day, and it was like it was custom built just for me. Rather than a speaker or a program we had a handful of activities to choose from, one of which was a relaxation corner where I got to soak my feet and share my worries, and also laugh at things totally unrelated to my situation. I went home with a lot of good advice and a much lighter heart.

Through those conversations and others, I connected with Dan Kaskubar and we decided to try a kind of nanny share. I would take Leah to his house two days a week where she could play with his youngest son, Aimon, and Jan could watch them both together. Dan and his wife were so gracious about opening up their home and including Leah. They gave me hope.

It’s only been a few weeks so far, but it’s going really well. Jan doesn’t think there is anything wrong with Leah, and isn’t fazed one bit by her tantrums. She even gave Leah a Valentine’s Day card that said how much she enjoyed spending time with her.

It’s not a perfect situation – the commute is less than ideal – but I’m at peace. God brought me here and if He decides to take me someplace else, I can trust Him. He’s my dad, and he’s got me. I’m so thankful for this community to remind me of that truth and support me in the journey.