I realize this is a sensitive topic and that part of why it's so hard to talk about is because it's so common and often a secret source of pain. I love many women who have had abortions, men who have been affected by abortion. My aim in this is never to increase hurt. I also love many who I know disagree with me on this topic. My aim is not to spark unhelpful debates, but to encourage an honest look at the values that drive abortion rights.
“Today we are taking a giant step forward in the hard-fought battle to ensure a woman’s right to make her own decisions about her own personal health, including the ability to access an abortion. With the signing of this bill, we are sending a clear message that whatever happens in Washington, women in New York will always have the fundamental right to control their own body,”
Andrew Cuomo, governor of New York.
Abortion has been a frequent topic in the news over the last year or so, with states such as New York taking drastic measures to protect abortion rights up to the moment of birth, at least if continuing the pregnancy threatens the vaguely-defined “health” of the mother. States such as Louisiana and Ohio have passed bills banning abortion once a heartbeat is detected, though putting the resulting laws in to effect will likely be a lengthy battle.
Laws such as the one passed earlier this year in New York are disturbing though not shocking. Perhaps most disturbing is the celebration that accompanied, the celebration of abortion as something good and virtuous, something kind and just and necessary to equality for women.
There is nothing just about abortion.
There is nothing just about killing innocent humans. No matter how small and unseen they are.
I believe in equality for women. I believe men, women, and children of all ages are first and foremost humans, equal in inherent value and equally bearing the image of God.
The rights of women matter because the rights of humans matter. The rights of the unborn matter because the rights of humans matter.
I have rights as a human, a woman, and an American, rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. Life is the most very basic of human rights. Without it the rest are meaningless.
I believe in the equality of women. But I don’t believe in the superiority of women.
Being a woman does not entitle me to decide who lives and dies. My pursuit of happiness never justifies taking the life of an innocent human, no matter age, stage of development, location, or status of dependency.
My financial stability is not more valuable than another human’s life. My opportunity to pursue further education is not more valuable than another human’s life. My mental and emotional health, my convenience, my freedom to do my own thing, my status in my current community – not one of those things are more valuable than the life of another innocent human being.
My rights as a woman do not negate another’s rights as a human.
There is nothing kind about abortion.
Abortion is certainly not kindness toward human babies, the most obvious victims of abortion.
If we killed unwanted dogs and cats the way we kill unwanted babies, it wouldn’t be celebrated. It would be called unkindness and cruelty. There would be all sorts of outcry. As there should be.
Reasonable people don’t think it’s acceptable to violently dismember animals the way abortion providers violently dismember babies.
Human babies have no voice, no ability to advocate for themselves. Human babies are the weakest and most vulnerable of human beings.
We human beings, men and women, have a responsibility to protect the weak. There’s nothing kind or good or virtuous about using your power to harm those who are weaker than you.
We women, of all people, should remember that.
Abortion is not kindness toward women.
It is absolutely true that for many the prospect of raising a child will threaten their stability in many ways. Education may seem out of reach, poverty may seem inescapable, the possibility of providing a safe and healthy environment for a child may seem unattainable.
Many women seek abortion not as a means of convenience but as a means of survival. And without support from family and community, many mothers, along with their children, will barely survive, let alone thrive.
We who believe in the value of all humans should be willing to take on the inconvenience of caring for those mothers and babies who are vulnerable to abortion. This isn’t just about HER values. It’s about OUR values. This is on us too.
There’s nothing kind about making abortion the go-to solution for women who don’t really want abortions. What’s kind is providing the support that all mothers need but that many have no access to.
Too many women make decisions they hate and that hurt for the rest of their lives because no one was there to speak truth into their fears.
And the truth is that women are strong. The love between mother and child is strong. Love will always call out a woman’s greatest strength.
I’ve seen a video of a woman without arms breastfeed her baby, prepare her food, and wash her laundry. I’ve seen women struggle through mental illness and trauma and abuse and judgment from their families to give their babies life. I’ve sat with a fifteen-year-old mother in a situation far less than ideal while she nursed her newborn and shared her birth story and early parenting struggles.
“It’s not about me anymore.” she said.
Women who give their children life when death would have been easier embody what we should all aspire too.
Sacrificial love is virtuous.
Persistence is virtuous.
Hard work is virtuous.
Bravery is virtuous.
These are things worth celebrating, worth praising.
Yet, somehow the idea of “women’s equality”, secured by “reproductive rights”, has become the idea with the highest value, the one most celebrated. The right to control the when and if of having children, the right to put oneself first, the right to not be inconvenienced by motherhood, has become more valuable than protecting the unseen, but already-existing life of a human child.
This space of women’s equality has become sacred ground that we dare not tread on, full of values and assumptions we dare not question.
But we must tread on it.
We must ask the hard questions. These things we’ve been told are necessary to the flourishing of women – are they really so necessary? Are rights more important than lives? Can we have a coherent set of values if the justice and equality we aim to secure for ourselves requires the death of the innocent?
Or is it just self we value? Is it just power we value? Do we appeal to the virtues of justice and equality only if they serve to further our ability to get what we want no matter the cost?
Who do we think we are? To demand that our pursuit of happiness be considered more valuable than the life of another human?
We are women.
We are humans with intrinsic value equal to but not greater than that of other humans. We are women, created in the image of God to fulfill a good and valuable purpose in the world.
Our femaleness does not make us more valuable than other human beings. Violence done to us does not give us the right to do violence to others. That men can evade parental responsibility more easily than women can, does not make evading parental responsibility a good thing.
Let’s not pretend selfishness is virtuous.
Killing life instead of nurturing it contradicts our very nature; it spits in the face of the very image of God in our womanhood. Ultimately, it severs us from the purpose made clear by our biology, disconnects us from the very thing that makes us unique as women. Not every woman can or will physically bear children. But we lose something precious when we abhor our life-giving and life-nurturing purpose in the world and trade it for a power and equality that primarily serves our own selfishness and costs the lives of the weak and the vulnerable.
Abortion is not virtuous. If we want women’s equality to yield something good and beautiful and virtuous in the world, we cannot continue to sacrifice the blood of the innocent for its sake.
I’ve sought the answer from others many times. I’ve wished that people who are smarter or godlier or more well-read than I am would talk about it in a way I could trust. I still wish that. But I think it’s worthwhile to try to answer your own questions, to be curious enough to at least do a little bit of work to figure it out. So this is me trying to do that.
Femininity in the Church
Growing up in the church, femininity was often defined by lists of virtues or spiritual characteristics such as the fruits of the Spirit or by functions and roles within the home and family. Sometimes it was even defined by common psychological and social differences between men and women.
All of these approaches held some truth, but I think only clarified part of a much larger picture of what femininity is.
The fruits of the Spirit or even characteristics of godly female examples in the Bible are largely traits that BELIEVERS should cultivate, not necessarily traits that define humans as women.
Being a godly and virtuous human is foundational to being a excellent woman, but these virtues are not what sets us apart as women.
Certainly a woman’s role in her family is important, and we should understand what makes a woman a good wife and a good mother.
But wife and mother is are only two of the many roles a woman may fulfill. And defining femininity solely in terms of family life fails to acknowledge the many single women in our church, some who are longing for marriage and motherhood and some who are joyfully serving God in their singleness, with no expectation for marriage and family.
Being a daughter, sister, and friend are also vital and important roles in the physical family. Further, believing women all have a familial role in their spiritual family, the church.
Being single or childless does not make you less feminine.
Psychological or social differences between men and women may be common, but they are generalizations. And all generalizations have exceptions. They describe the reality of how most women function, not necessarily an ideal to which all women should aspire.
But they are often treated as an ideal. And doing so stunts women in their spiritual, emotional, and intellectual growth, both those who fit the more typical mold and those who don’t.
Femininity in the Secular World
In the secular world, femininity can be described any way an individual wants it to be. Feminism further complicates it. In the largely secular birth world that I often interact within, I’ve been exposed to the very best of feminism. In fact, it is the women in the birth world, both Christian and secular, who have most affirmed me as a woman.
But without a higher standard to conform to, secular definitions of femininity offer ideals that are too fluid to aspire to.
Often, the church’s definitions of femininity are too narrow to be applicable and affirming to all women, and the secular world’s definitions of femininity are too subjective to be meaningful.
I have struggled to find a definition flexible enough for all women to aspire to, but that affirms women as they are created to be and gives them something to aspire to outside of personal fulfillment.
A Meaningful Definition
So if femininity defined by lists of characteristics and roles within the family is too narrow, and femininity defined as whatever you want it to be is too fluid, where does that leave us?
Genesis 1:27 says,
Human beings came into the world, male and female, in the image of God. The biological sex of a human being is meaningful to their purpose in the world and in their accurate reflection of the image of God.
Our biology, our physical characteristics and the functions of our bodies, which are often treated with so much suspicion by the church and disregard by the world, are meaningful in our definition of femininity.
Men’s bodies are bigger and stronger than women’s. Men are naturally more aggressive. Using one’s physical strength to protect and provide safety for one’s family and community is at the heart of being a man.
Women’s bodies are undoubtedly designed to nurture life. Women carry, birth, and nurture babies, the offspring man and woman create together. Giving, sustaining, and nurturing life is at the heart of being a woman.
So I would like to offer this definition, in hopes that it can provide clarity without legalism and be applicable to all women in a way that calls them to a high ideal while still affirming them as the unique individuals they are.
As I write this definition I am immediately sensitive to the fact that I have defined femininity in terms of female biology and that the reality is that many women feel disconnected to their bodies.
And perhaps many more feel betrayed by bodies that have failed to create, grow, sustain, or nurture life, women who have experienced infertility or miscarriage, even women who feel their bodies are inadequate to attract a good mate.
Desires for sex, marriage, and children are natural, God-given desires, so I want to honor those good desires, but I know that the church has often failed to create a meaningful vision of womanhood to single women and childless women, who whether due to choice or circumstance are growing in number.
So, single woman, childless woman, this is for you too.
Let’s flesh this definition out a bit.
Femininity is cultivation. Cultivation is work, hard work. It requires purposeful self-discipline to bring forth fruit. There’s nothing passive or lazy about cultivation.
Femininity is not just about doing what “comes natural” to you as a woman. Your individual, natural tendencies will need to be trained, strengthened, and sometimes killed to become an excellent woman.
Virtues are good and valuable characteristics. I realize this can be a bit subjective, but virtues are characteristics that will help you achieve a high standard in the roles you are called to fulfill. Many will be valuable across multiple roles and applicable to both men and women. Virtues make you a good human, not just a good woman.
I am a wife. There are virtues that I need to cultivate in myself to be a good wife. Many of them don’t come naturally to me. I need to be understanding. I need to be slow to anger. I need to be generous and loyal and truthful and encouraging. And if I were married to someone else, there might be certain virtues that I needed to cultivate more than others.
I am a mother. I need to be gentle. I need to be patient. I need to be self-controlled and disciplined and hard-working and self-sacrificing. Those are the virtues that my children need in me.
But those virtues are not only valuable only in the spheres of marriage and motherhood, nor are they only valuable in women. They will make you a better friend, a better employee, a better entrepeneur, a better boss. They’ll make you a better member of the body of Christ, a better voice in your community. And they are worth cultivating regardless of your familial status.
Skills are learned capabilities. Some will come easier than others. They are practical in all different spheres. They may be professional skills, homemaking skills, or relational skills, and I think there are minimal basic competencies all women should pursue in each of those areas.
They might be learning the duties of a job you are paid for. They might be learning to budget and meal plan and change diapers and breastfeed. They might be learning to manage conflict better or discerning when to push and issue or when to let it go. They might be learning how to listen to a friend in the depths of grief.
Gifts are the characteristics you’re particularly strong in, the skills you’re are particularly good at, the things that perhaps come easiest to you.
These will often be things that are most often associated with femininity. They may be things like facilitating teamwork in your job place, exercising gentleness and patience with your children, creating a beautiful home, offering compassion to the abused church member.
But for some women, their gifts may fit into a more typically masculine category. These may excel in problem-solving, they may naturally be more objective, or they may be very physically and sexually driven.
And if that’s you, it might create a feeling of disconnect with other women, a feeling of defectiveness, a feeling of not being very feminine.
To the end of being…
This means for the purpose of. It’s pretty self-explanatory, but as we cultivate virtues that are valuable to all humans, skills that allow us to fulfill our roles well, and gifts that set us apart as unique individuals, we do so with a goal in mind. The goal of giving, sustaining, and nurturing the physical, mental, emotional and spiritual lives of those around us.
Life-Giving, Life-Sustaining, and Life-Nurturing
These actions of giving, sustaining, and nurturing life are deeply interconnected, and this is the part that most reflects our biology.
When God creates life in our bodies we do the often exhausting work of sustaining and nurturing that life. This nurturing of life of our physical children requires self-sacrifice in every imaginable way. We give up our old bodies, our old priorities, our old habits, for the good of the children God has given us.
But it’s not just about biology.
Even if we are not mothers, we will sacrifice much when we give our lives to whatever task God has called us to.
We nurture the people around us, including our husbands, our co-workers, and our brothers and sisters in Christ, by serving them, by encouraging them, by working with them side-by -side, by lovingly confronting them when necessary.
We nurture bodies, feeding our children, bringing meals to the new mother, bathing the elderly at the skilled nursing facility we work in.
We nurture minds, sharing ideas, reading to our children, teaching the ABC’s to our kindergarten class.
And we nurture souls. Memorizing Scripture with our children, praying for our loved ones, offering the life-giving hope of the gospel to the spiritually dead we come into contact with every day.
I use this word because it connotes strength. We are not weak and fragile flowers, passively floating through life.
Women are strong. And I don’t say that to equate us with men. Our strength is distinctly feminine. But I think both the world and the church has lost sight of that. There are all kinds of reasons, but I believe some of it can be traced back to the disconnect with our biology.
We eat what we want even when it makes us feel like crap.
We routinely numb the emotions we don’t feel ready to face, or perhaps that others aren’t ready to face.
We pump ourselves full of synthetic hormones and accept anxiety and fatigue and disinterest in sex as normal.
When we give birth we “rescue” our bodies from pain and choose not to feel what’s actually happening to us. We forget that women have had the strength to give birth for thousands of years and we are no different.
And with the loss of distinctly feminine strength in our consciousness, we, both in the secular world and in the church, fall victim to two things.
First, we fall victim to judging our strength by masculine standards. We equate femininity with weakness, despise ourselves for it, and spend our lives frantically trying to prove our value in masculine spheres.
Second, we fall victim to thinking we are not strong enough to do the hard things that being a woman, that being feminine, actually requires. We default to what is easy instead of cultivating what is good.
Circles of Influence
This is wherever you are right now, your family, your church, your community, your workplace. Your circle of influence is wherever you are, whether you want to be there or not.
You might be a student working toward a degree. You might be a mother with a house full of young children. You might be a leader in a workplace, a widow in the church, a married woman, an unmarried woman, a woman content and single, a woman single and longing to be married.
Wherever you are, you are there for God’s purpose. And you can nurture the lives around you. You can show others what God is like as you bear His image and influence His creation with your life-nurturing, feminine strength.
Doc&Devo: Masculinity with Paul Maxwell. His clarification of masculinity has been a tremendous help to me as I attempt to define femininity. If you know of a discussion of femininity of that caliber, send it my way!
I see you nervous and anxious about giving birth in a hospital setting with its bright lights and policies and no guarantee of being attended by a professional you know and trust, by the one you’re perhaps building a relationship with right now.
And I see you nervous and anxious about giving birth at home too, with all the unknowns and what-ifs and wondering what your people will think.
I see your careful questions and cautious exploration, your conflicting fears and desires, and the anxiety that comes with the responsibility of choosing.
And I’ve been right where you are
I have given birth to two babies at home. I loved having my babies at home. I am now a committed advocate of homebirths for women who want them. But the journey to get here was long and arduous.
I first heard about homebirth in college when I watched the documentary, “The Business of Being Born”. At the time it seemed like such a brave and beautiful way to bring a baby into the world, yet fear and lack of knowledge kept it like a lovely trinket in a little box, something kept high on a shelf and left unopened for fear of breaking it.
I thought that birth was too risky and too complicated to safely do at home.
Fast forward several years and I was married, hoping to soon start a family. I was nannying for a doula who became a dear friend, and as she was spending nights supporting mamas birthing their babies, I was spending nights on her couch, voraciously reading her library of birth-related books.
Fascinated by birth since childhood, I devoured every bit of information I could about homebirth, evidence-based care, and the physiology of labor. I watched all the documentaries and read all the Ina May. It’s always interesting to me to see how my interests as an adult have just been a continuation of what fascinated me as a child.
With Megan’s encouragement I soon trained as a doula. I attended births, and was on the board for the local birth network. As I learned more and more about normal, physiologic birth, I became more comfortable with the idea of giving birth at home. The lower risk of interventions, c-sections especially, along with the relative safety for low-risk mothers, was very appealing, yet I still had a nagging fear.
I was perhaps most afraid of making a selfish decision that would ultimately put my baby at risk.
I always say Megan “pre-doulaed” me through my fears around birth in general and homebirth in particular.
She met me where I was at, asked me the hard questions, and helped me figure out what was really valuable to me.
I was all about research and statistics and evidence-based care back then. And I still am, but now with a solid dose of valuing my own intuition and heart desires as well.
First Trimester Birth
About a year into my birth obsession, and after a PCOS diagnosis and a year and a half of hoping, I was thrilled to find out I was pregnant. I started researching care providers right away. I would be six months along when my husband was supposed to get out of the military and we would move back home to Michigan, so I knew I wouldn’t have a lot of time to find someone before my baby arrived.
At ten weeks, I went to the urgent care on base due to the light but constant spotting I had been experiencing. Follow-up appointments determined that I was experiencing a molar pregnancy and a d&c was scheduled immediately.
I was devastated.
After the procedure, while I was in recovery, the obgyn came back and told me that though the ultrasound the day before had shown a complete molar pregnancy with no developing baby, the ultrasound they had performed after administering general anesthetic showed a fetus with no heartbeat, measuring 7 weeks and 5 days
But on the other hand I felt robbed. I hadn’t been able to see my baby. No one had thought to take a photo. If I had known an ultrasound could be so wrong I would have asked them to wake me up, to let me see my baby, heartbeat or not, to have a chance to have something to keep of that baby besides an old faded pregnancy test and a handful of photos of me while I was pregnant.
But I was asleep and unaware and unable to advocate for myself.
I know medical professionals have to make a call in that sort of situation, that it was probably just a standard procedure and that for some women it would have been best. But it wasn’t for me. And I’m the one that has to live with it for the rest of my life.
The first trimester birth of that first baby had a powerful and unavoidable impact on my future births. It felt so violent, and I now know that at some level I processed it as sexual trauma.
I knew that in the future I would do everything I could to never be that powerless again.
With my first baby’s birth my general discomfort in hospitals became complete terror. Every week I returned for bloodwork to ensure my hCG levels were dropping appropriately, and by the time I left I was shaking, nauseated, and vomiting. I jumped at my own reflection in the glass doors. I had nightmares for well over a year.
While I became more afraid of hospitals, I also became increasingly concerned for safety in future births. In the wake of intense grief following that baby’s birth, I knew without a doubt that I would have taken all the unnecessary interventions and their accompanying risks to be able to hold that baby for a minute. I had never doubted that I would do anything to protect the life of my child, but now I was on the other side of loss, knowing firsthand the value of skilled medical help along with the potential for harm even with the best intentions, and the ultimate powerlessness we sometimes have to sustain life in a world of sickness and death and babies born too soon.
Fast forward another eight months and I was pregnant again. I was shocked, ecstatic, hopeful, and full of anxiety all at once. We had recently moved home, and initially I saw an obgyn resident practice. They were the first ones I could find who would accept my insurance, and I was eager to know everything was alright. They didn’t do an ultrasound until 20 weeks, so I was in constant worry until our ultrasound showed a healthy baby boy.
Although I still knew in my heart that I wanted a homebirth, I had set my desire aside because there was simply no way it was possible financially. But as I drew close to my third trimester, my husband got a new job, and a cautious hope started to take root. If I could find a midwife who would take payment plans, maybe a homebirth would be in reach.
Meanwhile, red flags in my care at my obgyn practice made my desire for a homebirth even stronger.
One particular incident sticks out in my mind. I had been slowly going through the items on my birth plan that were most important to me, trying to simultaneously be honest about my hopes and also feel out a realistic idea of what to expect in a situation I knew wouldn’t be quite ideal. When I came to birthing positions I indicated that I wanted to be upright unless there was a medical necessity to do otherwise.
“Oh you can push in whatever position you want.” The ob said. “But when you actually give birth you’ll be on your back with your feet in stirrups.”
“I don’t think that’s necessary if everything is going well.” I said.
“It’s necessary so that we can help you get the baby out.” He said.
“And if you want to do something different you should go somewhere else, but don’t do a homebirth.”
“I don’t think I’m going to need your help.” I thought, but didn’t say aloud.
His mind seemed made up, and I decided against offering to bring in some studies to support my rather bold assertion. I would probably never see him again anyway.
Though that interaction was quite distressing at the time, I now appreciate his blunt honesty, his indirect observation that the care providers I was seeing simply wouldn’t be able to support the birth that was best for me.
At seven months pregnant, I hired my midwife.
Her calm and confident presence immediately inspired trust and even made my husband feel more comfortable with having our baby at home. All the evidence-based practices that I had to fight for in the hospital – delayed cord clamping, intermittent auscultation, upright birth positions – were standard for her. She had been practicing for over 30 years and had attended over 3,000 births. I felt completely confident in her knowledge, experience, and ability to facilitate a safe birth for me and my baby.
Right away my midwife recommended supplements and nutritional changes along with exercises to prepare for birth. I immediately had more energy and less stress. We talked about the things that were really important to me, the things about birth and motherhood I wasn’t confident in, the things I was scared of.
Every week she shared little snippets from a birth she had attended that week. Every story boosted my confidence, and I approached my due date with eager expectation. Even if I ever ended up needing to transfer to the hospital during birth, I believe the cost of a homebirth midwife is totally worthwhile simply in the value of the prenatal care.
My Friend Fear
Though overall I was excited to give birth, I still carried some fears as I approached my due date. I trusted the physiology of the process, but my history of PCOS and miscarriage had undermined confidence in my own physiology.
I had seen birth up close, had supported other women through it, and I knew it would require everything of me. I knew it would be incredibly challenging, and I believed I was strong enough to do it. Not because I was unusually strong, but because women have been doing it for thousands of years.
The strength to give birth, and to do so awake and present to the process, is a common and God-given strength, one that women today often see no need to access, but one that has been vital to the survival and sustenance of life for all of history.
I was confident in that, that women were designed to give birth. And when I doubted that I was designed to give birth, when my fears started running amok, no one fed the fears. My midwife sensibly confronted them with truth and then let them be. They became a means to a safer and better birth, not a facilitator of disengagement and helpless anxiety. Should the fears require action we had a good plan, but no one used my fears against me. I trained them for my own purposes.
And then I gave birth to my son. And the fears didn’t come with me. They stayed outside the sacred space of giving birth, like well-armed knights around a castle, ready to protect in danger. I was not only able to feel safe, but BE safe, because of their presence with me as I carried my baby.
Birth that Heals
I labored gently for a day and half the night. I ate and slept and spent time with my husband. In the wee hours of the morning I knew this was real and I would be meeting my baby soon.
We drove to my parents home where, due to various circumstances, we had chosen to have our baby. The car ride was miserable and I had a moment of weakness as we neared the hospital exit.
“Homebirth isn’t for everyone. I could just go to the hospital and get an epidural right now.”
Then we passed the exit, and I was committed.
We arrived at my parents’ home, and soon my doula and midwife arrived too. My mother, father, sisters, and brother were all there with me and my husband. I groaned and growled and laughed and cried my way through labor.
He was born shortly after sunrise, on a frosty November morning. My midwife passed him between my legs and lay him on the bed in front of me. “I did it!” I thought. I had a moment to look at him before I scooped him into my arms and held him, kneeling there on my parents’ bed.
The healing birth of my oldest son was intensely challenging, yet intensely joyful, just like he is. His birth was treated as the everyday miracle that it was. It was treated as the unfolding of a trustworthy process, not a volatile experiment to be managed and controlled.
I hold this decision of where I birth my babies dear because I think it was the first time in my life that I truly felt I had agency to not only make the best decisions for myself, but to feel confident in those decisions.
I was willing to fight for what was good for me and my baby when just going a conventional route would have in many ways been easier and certainly would have been more comfortable for the people around me.
Having a beautiful, transformative, empowering birth wasn’t because I was just “lucky”. Yes, in birth there are things outside our control, but what we do have control over is the way we prepare and the decisions we make. My decisions mattered.
And your decisions matter too.
The way you prepare matters. The stories you listen to matter. The values you take hold of and the values you reject matter. The hard work you do before birth, the decisions you make, before conception even – it all matters.
You don’t have to have your baby at home to have a good birth, and a few women will end up with a great birth even without much preparation. But approaching giving birth in a thoughtfully engaged manner, knowing what you want and making decisions accordingly will always be good for you and your family.
So dear mama and father, keep learning, keep searching, keep exploring.
If you’re afraid, train your fears to serve you. Treat them with care and respect, lest they use their power to defeat you instead of protect you.
And then make your decisions about where to give birth based on what YOU know is best for yourself and for your baby
You call the shots. The power to make thoughtful decisions that positively affect your birth experience, your baby, your motherhood and fatherhood, and your whole life as a family – that power is yours. Whether you choose to exercise it is up to you.
You’re the only one who can empower you.
If you’re feeling overwhelmed with information or unsure of how to make the best decisions for you and your baby, please seek out support from a local birth professional or contact me. I offer very individualized support and education for expectant parents with varying levels designed to accommodate any budget and need. This is a brief, precious, and sometimes scary stage of life, and the decisions you make now can impact your family for years to come.
My second son’s birthday was several weeks ago, and for those weeks I have struggled to know how to write his story. Do I write it as a combination of my own memories and what I was told? Do I write it based on my memories alone? Do I write it as a perceive it a year later? With all I’ve processed? Or do I just write it as a timeline of facts?
I have decided to write it based on my own memories, my own experience of it, perhaps with a bit of how I now perceive the experience, a year later. I had a great birth, and this is me honoring and protecting the memory of that birth.
A Second Rainbow
Before the births of Colt (my oldest son) and Abe (my second born), I experienced a devastating and traumatic miscarriage. That experience has left an ever-present mark on every area of my life. I wasn’t sure how my loss experience would affect my second live birth.
After all, I’d had one live birth and though my pregnancy had been fraught with anxiety and uncertainty, the birth had gone well. I’d had one empowering, confidence-building, joy-filled experience under my belt. Would that somehow balance out the fear and the sadness and the need for control that my first pregnancy and subsequent loss had bestowed upon me?
The answer is no. The uncertainty was still there. The anxiety was real. But perhaps for different reasons.
When I discovered I was pregnant with my second rainbow baby, my husband and I were thrilled. I had purposed during my first son’s pregnancy that I would hold onto happiness for as long as I could. That I would let myself feel all the joy, despite the possibility for loss and sorrow inherent in every pregnancy.
I would feel the anxiety right along with the joy, of course. Because it was so very real too. But I wouldn’t try to shut out the love and the joy out of a desire to protect myself from the possibility of sorrow.
I conceived my son on day 95 of a my third postpartum cycle. I had hoped that once my fertility returned after my first son’s birth, normal cycles would resume. But instead my cycles were long and irregular, as they had been for most of my life, all of it, in fact, except for the three cycles before conceiving my first son.
I knew the risk of miscarriage was higher with a later ovulation, and what about the dreaded possibility of another partially molar pregnancy (which my first miscarriage had turned out to be)? My due date was the 20th of June, just 5 days before the fourth anniversary of the loss of our first baby. Colt had been born 4 days past his due date, so I knew the possibility of this baby being born very near or on that anniversary was high.
A Stressful Pregnancy
When we found out we were expecting, it was in the midst of a very stressful year for us. This baby was a definite bright spot.
As with my first two pregnancies, I experienced constant nausea and vomiting multiple times a day. This time it held on longer than it had with my first son, and I was far more uncomfortable than I had been with him.
I was also bigger than I had been with Colt, and more people than I care to recall commented on it. Making the observation didn’t bother me; it was true, and I’m pretty comfortable in my own skin. What bothered me was the assumptions people made because of how big I was.
“There’s no way you’ll make it to your due date.”
“That’s a big baby!”
“I hope that delivery goes ok…” (with the voice filled with foreboding…)
“They must have your dates wrong!” (Actually, THEY don’t determine my dates. I tell THEM when I know I conceived – thank you fertility awareness! And THEY, being my midwife, trusts me as a woman highly aware of her own body and fertility.)
I found myself caught off guard by my anxiety about my upcoming labor and birth. Again, I thought I would be more confident since my first birth had gone so well. But this pregnancy was so different. Would my labor be different too? I’d had a great birth. Maybe now it my “turn” for a crappy birth…
“The second birth is often as virgin as the first.” my midwife said. How right she was!
As with my first son, I experienced frequent Braxton Hicks starting early in my second trimester. With my first, this had alarmed me, but my cervix had stayed closed and my baby safe, so I barely gave them a second thought the second time around.
Colt had been born 4 days past his due date, and his story is for another time, but my logical head said that this second baby would likely go a bit late too. My heart, however, thoroughly enjoyed the feeling that he would be a bit early. My head was right.
Four days past my due date, my husband was the best man in our dear friends’ wedding. I was so glad I wasn’t in labor. If I was going to go past my due date I might as well get to do the fun stuff! We danced to a bunch of our favorite songs, and I hoped all that activity would jumpstart labor. The next day when my muscles were aching I was glad that it hadn’t!
After the wedding I decided to stay at my parents’ house until the baby was born. As with my first, circumstances dictated that their home was the best place for me to give birth, and I had been feeling some anxiety about getting there once I knew I was in labor. Due to my nearly constant Braxton Hicks, by the time I’m sure I’m in labor, I’m far too uncomfortable to drive, and birth is too imminent to feel comfortable with the possibility of needing to wait for someone else to drive me. Also, the car ride in active labor with Colt really sucked. I wanted to be able to stay put this time.
The wedding was on a Saturday, and on Sunday when I got home from church I had some bloody show. That afternoon I napped with my husband, and in the evening I made brownies with Colt. I knew it was likely the last night we would go to bed just him and me, and I wanted to savor those bittersweet moments.
The next day, I felt tired and a bit crabby. I went to Meijer to get some snacks and had frequent, slightly more intense contractions as I walked around. I was a bit hopeful, but not too hopeful since I’d had that sort of pattern other times.
I came home and tried to take a nap with my son. He was struggling to wind down, so I ended up only sleeping 30-40 minutes, but I woke feeling a bit more refreshed.
That evening my mom made tacos and I was chatting with my sister and her fiance around 9 p.m. when I noticed a change in my contractions. “It’s real now.” I thought. I didn’t often get Ash and David to myself, so I chatted with them a little longer, ate three more tacos, and brewed myself a cup of red raspberry leaf tea. Then I went upstairs to my brother’s bedroom and did about 40 pelvic tilts and 20 lunges and called my husband, my friend, Abby, and my midwife.
“It sounds like you’re in early labor,” my midwife said “so try to get some rest.”
“I can’t sleep through these.” I said. She encouraged me to rest my body even if I couldn’t sleep so I had enough energy as labor intensified. “Ok, I’ll try.” I thought. “But first, tea and a shower.”
While in the shower in the bathroom off my parents’ room, my contractions started to intensify and I started breathing through them. I checked my cervix and thought I was probably 4-5 cm dilated. Looking back, and after more recently seeing a dilation model, I’m guessing I was probably more like 6-7 cm.
By the time I got out, my contractions were about 4-7 minutes apart and becoming steadily stronger. I had to pause several times as I got dressed and resting in bed was actually starting to sound like a pleasant prospect. I lay down on the bed in my parents’ room and my contractions spaced out to 7-10 minutes, but continued to intensify.
Around this time I started texting my friend, Emily, whose due date was just a week after mine. We had shared our pregnancy news with each other early on and during our whole pregnancies had been joking about having our babies on the same day. She was just starting to have some mild contractions, and it was so cool to be sort of “laboring together”. It was also a welcome distraction! By the time I could no longer focus on texting her, she had arrived at the hospital and was 4 cm dilated.
Waiting for the Midwife
During the time I was “resting”, my sister, Ash, was there with me. In between my contractions I lay on my side, and during them I got on my hands and knees and Ash lifted my belly with a scarf or gave counterpressure on my lower back. I was having a bit of back labor this time around, which was different than Colt’s birth. It was really special to have that time with just her and me just shortly before she got married, and her calm and quiet presence was truly a comfort.
Eventually I felt the need to get up and move around and go pee, and as I stood leaning and swaying against the bathroom counter, I started feeling quite a bit of pressure. I think I called my midwife around that time, and after listening to me through a contraction she said she would start heading my way shortly.
Soon my mom heard the tell-tale grunts at the end of my contractions, signalling that I was starting to give some small, involuntary pushes. At this point she became a bit alarmed, and somewhere in there, Ty, Abby, and my other sister, Erin, had come into the bedroom. They were all quiet and unobtrusive and I hardly noticed their presence. Somewhere in there my water broke too.
I knelt beside the bed, which allowed me to still rest a bit between contractions, but I was definitely starting to feel the urge to push. My mom called the midwife again, and she instructed me to lie down on my side to try to slow things down. Soon the urge to push was overwhelming, and despite my mother’s pleas not to push, I couldn’t help at least pushing a little. My mom and her own birth stories and positive attitude toward birth has been an inspiration to me, and she has attended at least 5 other births, but I know being present for her daughters giving birth is quite a different thing for her, and she did not want me to have the baby before the midwife arrived!
My parents have a very long driveway, and it’s easy to miss, especially in the dark, so when my midwife called to tell us she was getting off on the exit to our house, my sisters raced to the end of the driveway with flashlights so that she wouldn’t miss the driveway. This was especially memorable to my midwife.
The Midwife Arrives!
She arrived and quickly began to set up. I was still being encouraged not to push, and I said, “She’s here now – I’m pushing!”
Soon someone said something about the baby having a lot of hair, and I was thrilled that they could see the baby’s head. At this point, labor was incredibly intense, and I was yelling, crying, and growling my way through contractions. I had pushed for an hour and a half with Colt, and wasn’t sure what to expect this time. The prospect of being almost done was so incredibly encouraging and gave me a renewed energy and strength.
Within minutes, the baby’s head was born. The cord was wrapped once around his neck, and my midwife calmly unwrapped it. With the next contraction I was being rather forcefully encouraged to push, but wasn’t really feeling an urge to, which makes pushing incredibly difficult and unproductive. I felt like if I could just get a good breath I would be able to have more force behind my pushing, but finally the baby’s shoulders were out. I still question this part of my experience, wondering if it’s really necessary to push before I feel any urge. Perhaps I perceive it as being far more urgent than it actually is, but in both my sons’ births, this part has been very stressful for me.
I was in a side-lying position when I gave birth. I had anticipated being in a hands-and-knees position again, but by the time the midwife arrived and I was free to just push, trying to change positions just didn’t seem worth it. But I can say, I definitely like hands-and-knees better. When they handed the baby up on to my chest, I was lying back flat and it was really hard to see him, whereas with Colt, they had passed him between my legs and set him on the bed in front of me. I was upright and had a chance to look at him before lifting him up to my chest myself.
We were going to be surprised by the baby’s sex this time, and I didn’t have the strength to move the baby around to check, so I asked Ty too. “We’ve got another boy, babe!” he said.
A “Big Baby”
My family helped me get propped up with some pillows, and the placenta was delivered uneventfully. Within probably 20 minutes of birth, our baby boy had latched on and was nursing easily. I was startled by how simple breastfeeding was this second time around!
After an hour or so of skin-to-skin, my in-laws arrived to be present for the newborn exam, which is one of my favorite parts of the homebirth experience. My midwife carefully checked baby Abe’s reflexes and joints and then weighed him.
“9 pounds 6 ounces!” she said. I thought for sure the scale was broken. There was no way he was 9 pounds. He sure didn’t look like it to me. But a few days later we went to the chiropractor and he was 9 pounds 10 ounces, so I guess it was correct.
She measured his head and chest circumference. “He’s got a 15 inch head and no moulding!” she said. “You were built to birth babies!” I was pretty happy with that assessment and pretty proud of my 5’4”, 112 pounds not pregnant self for giving birth to such a good-sized baby. I have a pretty strong trust in God’s design for women and babies and the whole birth process, but I do wonder if I would have had more anxiety going into birth had I known how big Abe was.
Soon Colt woke up and sleepily met his new baby brother. He had the most fantastic bedhead, and of course he was hungry, so my mother brought him yogurt which he sat on the bed and ate.
Shortly after he was born, Emily texted and asked how things were going. I responded with a picture of Abe and “He’s here!” Several hours later, she gave birth to her second daughter, and I love that our babies share a birthday.
Sorrow for a Night and Joy in the Morning
Abe was born at 12:47 a.m. on the 27th of June, just 2 days after the fourth anniversary of the loss – and birth – of our first baby. Late June is always a hard time of year for me. I’m raw with emotion, sometimes traumatic flashbacks increase, but this time of year has now been redeemed. I still feel the pain and the sadness, yes, but it now exists alongside joyous memories of Abe’s birth. He has been pure grace in my life.
“Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning.” This verse (Psalm 30:5) is brief part of the psalmist’s testifying to the faithfulness, mercy, and healing of God. It doesn’t refer to birth directly, but later in John 16, Jesus says, “When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world.” Here he refers to His people waiting for His coming, but I’ve found this common theme in the Bible of sorrow and then joy to be such an encouragement in my motherhood journey.
Whether it be the overwhelming difficulty of labor followed by the overwhelming joy of holding my baby, or the overwhelming sadness of losing a child in some part redeemed by the joy of another baby born at just the right time, or of the hope of a future joy of meeting and knowing that baby in heaven, that thought was a deep comfort and encouragement to me as I gave birth. There is pain, but there will be joy. I have lost, but I am receiving a gift.
Birth and motherhood is difficult and unpredictable and full of both sorrow and joy. But we have a gracious and merciful God who is with us in our sorrow, who delights to redeem every part of our lives, a God who has given us our children, whether it be for a moment or a lifetime, and will carry us mothers through this journey He has called us to.
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If you’re of my generation and active in certain theological circles, you’re probably familiar with John Piper and have at least heard of his book, “Don’t Waste Your Life”. I read it when I was 15 and it definitely had an impact. In it Piper laments the tragedy of people who live their lives for meaningless pursuits instead of living their lives for the glory of God.
The catechism asks the question, “What is man’s primary purpose?” and gives the answer, “Man’s primary purpose is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever.” I knew the purpose of life, but until I read Piper’s book, I had never been gripped by it with so much intensity, both in my desires to fulfill it and my sobering awareness that I presently wasn’t.
The fact is all of life is worship and all of life is meant to glorify God. How we do the everyday things of life, how we celebrate milestones and the forming of families, says much about our values and what we’re living for.
Your wedding provides a tremendous opportunity to share the gospel with unsaved loved ones and to exalt Christ in the very beginning of your marriage, and this will hopefully set the stage for a lifelong commitment to the glory of God in your marriage and family life.
Three Practical and Tangible Ways to Glorify God in Your Wedding
1. Make the gospel clear in the ceremony.
There will be both believers and unbelievers present, some who wouldn’t come to church with you no matter how many times you asked them, but wouldn’t dream of missing your wedding. You have a really unique chance to share the gospel, and the picture of Christ and the church in marriage lends itself well to doing so. If you are a believer, the gospel is a treasure, a treasure you ought to desire others to possess. So talk to your pastor about the message he plans to share in the ceremony and your desire for the gospel to be clear in it.
2. Sing hymns that exalt Christ.
Congregational singing perhaps isn’t so common in weddings, but it’s an element that can be included to create a beautifully worshipful atmosphere. As I think back to my own wedding, the whole thing was rich with meaning and each part was so precious to me, but I know the singing together was one part that stood out to many who were present, perhaps because it isn’t very common. My husband and I each chose a favorite hymn (“In Christ Alone” and “All I Have is Christ”) and also chose “Amazing Grace”, a hymn that many, even unbelievers, are familiar with. When my sister got married this past summer, she and my brother-in-law opened their wedding ceremony with “Oh Praise the Name”. The feeling of worship was overwhelming. Your wedding is worship because all of life is worship. Make it clear Who the object of your worship is.
3. Use traditional vows.
I’m sorry, I know this might rankle some people, but I’ve never heard vows written solely by a couple that truly captured the significance of marriage in the way that traditional vows do. You’re not here to promise to be best pals and make each other laugh. You’re here to promise to love, honor, and cherish one another for better or for worse ’til death do you part. I’m not saying that you can’t add a personal touch – I’ve seen some really beautiful and meaningful variations – but I am saying that there are some basic elements that should be present and that the promises you make should be promises to keep. You don’t need to vow to never again make imitation mashed potatoes out of cauliflower. It might gain a laugh, but it kind of detracts from the solemn beauty of what is being promised.
After the Wedding
In making your vows, praising God with singing, and sharing the gospel in the wedding ceremony, you’ve made a strong statement about what you believe and what is valuable to you. People, even unbelievers will now have a certain standard they hold you to and the way you continue in your life and marriage will have an impact on your witness.
In all the planning of the ceremony don’t forget about your reception. There’s nothing wrong with having a good time at a wedding reception. It is a celebration after all. But in the celebration don’t create an atmosphere that makes it hard for your guests to honor God and easy for them to dishonor Him. You’re not responsible for other people’s actions, and I’m not going to tell you exactly how to plan your reception or what you should and shouldn’t do, but think about the crowd you have and about how your values are reflected in your choices in music, dancing, alcohol, and how you do activities like the garter toss or other entertaining pieces that are usually part of a reception. In entertaining your guests be sure you are also honoring and respecting one another and honoring God. It should be a joyous occasion, but not a raucous one.
The Rest of Your Lives
I know that sometimes as a young person from a Christian family grows up, unbelieving family members may wonder if the kids are really as crazy as the parents. They might not really know where you stand at the beginning of your life together unless you make it known.
And if you do make your faith clear during your wedding, the whole of the rest of your life and marriage is a witness to that truth. You won’t be perfect, and people, especially those close to you, will see your faults and your failures.
But hopefully they will also see you becoming more like Jesus, responding with grace, humility, and repentance when the usual difficulties and disagreements of life create rifts.
Hopefully they’ll see you truly loving each other for better or for worse. Hopefully they see husbands modeling sacrificial love and wives modeling submissive respect and both modeling tenderness, delight, and absolute faithfulness to one another.
Hopefully they’ll see you welcoming children as gifts from God with precious, eternal souls to nurture, not resented as mere inconveniences or leeches sucking away at their bank accounts.
Hopefully they see you as members of the body of Christ loving not just those of God’s family who are like you, but those who are not like you, because the earthly things of life are not the most important thing you have in common. The love of Christ, both His for you and yours for Him, is the most important thing you have in common. You are bound together by the blood of Christ, which creates a commitment even stronger than the blood ties of family.
None of those things make sense apart from the gospel. Sometimes your loved ones will see the way you live and just scratch their heads. Sometimes the way you live may even invite ridicule and conflict. But sometimes the way you live will draw others to you. They’ll think back to your wedding and they’ll know why you live as you do, and perhaps you’ll have an opportunity to again share the gospel with them.
God’s Word tells us to do all to the glory of God (I Corinthians 10:31). Your faithful witness, your glorifying God in your marriage starts with your wedding. So don’t waste it.
A few resources for those who are married, thinking about getting married, planning to be married, or planning a wedding.