He Remembers: Reflections on the Hope of Childbirth
The look on her face said it all. It was agony, relief, suffering and joy, everything all at once. After a long night of laboring without intervention, I had begun to wonder if maybe we should try something to help ease the pain, or at least find something to help speed up the process. My wife, Morgan, had been contracting heavily for over 25 hours when our sweet friend Lara suggested that maybe she should try taking a warm shower. The emotion that burst from Morgan in that moment is something that I will never forget as long as I live. She immediately leapt out of bed in between the next wave of aching pain sweeping through her body and plunged herself between the downward trickle of soothing comfort. And she kept going. Somehow, there was something left in the tank. It would not be long before we welcomed our first son into the world, a beautiful gift at the end of a long, dark, beautiful road. The journey was long, but we arrived safely.
As I stood watching her in that shower, I couldn’t shake the sentiment of that moment. I replayed the past few days in my head. Contractions had set in pretty quickly. Morgan’s discomfort grew before we went to the hospital, and we spent the day doing what we could to rest, relax, and take her mind off of things. We watched a show on Netflix, went on some walks around the neighborhood, tried to eat and hydrate, and prepared ourselves for what was ahead while praying that maybe God would let us sleep through one more night before it was time to head to the hospital. But that plan changed at 2:15 a.m., about 15 hours into serious contractions, when Morgan woke me and said that she was ready. To level with you, it was scary. It was one of those “ready or not, here I come” kind of moments, and I knew that we were about to experience a huge test of our unity and resolve. Were we ready?
God was so gracious throughout Morgan’s whole pregnancy to take care of her and the baby. When we first got pregnant, Morgan did not have health insurance. It was an Abraham experience of walking by faith for many months, trusting and believing that God would take care of us in the midst of a lot of deep uncertainty about our future. I realize now that God was building something deep down inside of us, growing our trust in Him and asking us to walk with Him in spite of our fear. It was an inestimable gift to have a pregnancy at all, much less a totally normal one. I feel incredibly undeserving. We have heard the stories and seen the pain of infertility, pregnancy complications, and traumatic births. At the end of the day, everything from A to Z was smooth. That is a kindness I will never be able to repay.
But even with how smooth everything was, I will never forget the pain of this night and the joy it produced. And I will continue to ponder God’s goodness and mercy in the midst of it all. Because as Morgan stood under the warmth of the water, my spirit was stirred to consider my faith. I thought of the countless number of mothers throughout history who have toiled to give birth. I thought of the countless number of women who have grieved and mourned as their prayers go unanswered and their wombs remain closed. I thought of how a process that is so utterly painful and exhausting can produce something so priceless. And I looked at my own life with wonder at the mystery of God’s purposes.
It isn’t easy to watch the person that you love more than anything in the world walk through the most difficult pain in the world. That feeling is compounded by the utter inability to do anything to take that pain or suffering away. All I wanted was to wrap Morgan up, hold her close, make it stop hurting, and find some other way. That has, after all, always been how I have handled pain. Wiggle free, numb it with unhealthy coping mechanisms, run away from it all. And I’m not alone in that. The Bible is littered with accounts of people who didn’t want to lean into pain, who refused to wait patiently, whose faith crumbled under fire. Abraham was supposed to wait for Isaac and instead produced Ishmael. All of Israel longed to return to the slavery of Egypt instead of pressing forward to the promised land. Saul offered his sacrifice early because he was worried Samuel wouldn’t show up in time. Israel made idols and prayed to them instead of waiting for the Lord to fight on their behalf. Doubt comes quickly when we are reminded of our fragility. So of course I was struggling! This was a full day of labor, groaning too deep for words, sleep deprivation in the midst of the most exhausting work a human being can do. Where was Jesus? You know, the one who says that His yoke is easy and His burden light? Where was that guy at? Well, I saw Him that morning in the simple comfort of a warm shower.
I was stirred to think of Genesis 8:1.
“But God remembered Noah.”
I thought of Exodus 2:24.
“God heard their groaning and he remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac and with Jacob.”
I thought of 1 Samuel 1:19.
“And God remembered Hannah.”
I thought of Psalm 25:6.
“Remember, Lord, your great mercy and love, for they are from of old.”
I thought of Jeremiah 31:20.
“Is Ephraim My dear son? Is he a delightful child? Indeed, as often as I have spoken against him, I certainly still remember him; Therefore My heart yearns for him; I will surely have mercy on him,” declares the Lord.”
And as these verses rushed over me, the tears followed soon after. In that moment, I was getting a glimpse of God’s goodness like I never had before. And I began to look back over the night and think about all of the ways that God had remembered us. It dawned on me that if I just looked closely, I could see evidence of His kind hand all over. His grace was right on time.
When we arrived to the hospital early in the morning, we met Beth, who was our nurse for intake. Beth was so kind and gracious to Morgan, but not only that, she loved tattoos! Beth, Morgan, and Lara were able to do the intake process while chatting about tattoos in between contractions. It was the perfect distraction for her while she got settled in at the hospital and geared up for the war ahead. After getting to our room, Morgan turned some Jesus music on and we sang together. It was a beautiful moment before things got much harder. Pretty soon after that, the intensity started to pick up even more. She was laboring hard and Lara and I were trying different things to help her feel better, but we kept striking out. After about three hours of this, you could tell that she was starting to get discouraged, and who could blame her? Still, it was tough to watch my fierce and fearless wife start to doubt herself and struggle in pain.
But then, at 7 a.m., new mercies arrived when the sun came up and we met our morning nurses, Heather and Nicole. They came into our room with encouragement and energy that Morgan desperately needed, and opening the windowshade bathed the room in sunlight. It was a beautiful day to have a baby and it reinvigorated the process for a few more hours. Our nurses were sweet, caring, and supportive in all of the ways that Morgan needed. But after a few more hours of increasing misery, Morgan was running out of steam again. Everything was progressing, but it was just taking so long. That’s when Heather suggested that we could have the doctor come in and at least break her water for her, a non-invasive intervention that Morgan felt okay about. When Dr. Ogburn came in, you could feel a renewed sense of energy and purpose yet again. We didn’t even know how close we were at that point! It wouldn’t be long, but the worst part was still to come.
I won’t pretend to be an expert because I have been through this exactly one time, but the suffering reached a whole new level after her water broke. Contractions were coming faster and stronger. Regular cervical exams meant regular discomfort on top of the pain. Switching positions was excruciating. This was the peak of discouragement, frustration, and questioning. Were we really gonna make it? Is this really how it’s supposed to be? Will there ever be relief? My prayers in these moments had become increasingly desperate and undignified. Can’t you help her, God? Can’t you speed things up? Why aren’t you doing anything? I’d be lying if I told you that I hadn’t asked these questions before. What was playing out in front of me was a battle that I have fought for decades in my own heart. Why would a God who is powerful enough to stop our suffering be cruel enough to let it continue anyways?
The answer He repeated to me over and over throughout the last few days was not new, but I did see it freshly. He doesn’t stop the suffering because the growth is worth the pain. The reward is worth the wait. He didn’t rescue Morgan immediately like I had prayed for over many months. I had begged Him for a quick delivery. But He did something far kinder. He showed us His strength. He taught us endurance. He united us with Him in His death, if only we had to die to ourselves. And in that shower, the lightbulb went off: He remembered us. He was not unaware of what we were going through. I believe that He mourns the curse of sin and the pain it causes us. And He was right there with us. He was with Morgan every step of the way, comforting her, upholding her, strengthening her, and giving her grace. And at every moment that it felt like too much to bear, when our faith was just about to run out, He remembered us. He moved in compassion, love, and empathy to encourage us and keep us moving forward. In those moments of doubt and exhaustion, when I thought that He might have left, He hadn’t.
I wish you could’ve seen the joy on Morgan’s face in that shower. But I also wish you could’ve seen what happened the moment that she met our son. It was incomparable. We wept together, held him and kissed him, and looked at each other in disbelief that something this beautiful could possibly be real. It was like the veil between Heaven and earth had been torn for just a single moment and we got the tiniest glimpse of what perfection feels like. As Jesus Himself says in John 16:21:
“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.”
That is what it is gonna feel like one day. The release of not looking in a mirror dimly, but feeling full joy, acceptance, and freedom in the presence of God. I saw it for just a millisecond today. It was beautiful. And if I ever forget it again, if I ever feel too discouraged to keep going or too full of doubt to find my faith, I’m going to look at our son and take my heart back to that warm shower. And I will remind myself that I serve a God who remembers me.
