Pain in Childbearing

“To the woman he said,

‘I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing;

in pain you shall bring forth children.’” – Genesis 3:16a

Pain in childbearing. This was Eve’s punishment for disobeying God and eating the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Eve had barely processed her new relationship, and with that the command to “be fruitful and multiply” (Gen 1:28), and now she learns that the big proactive command she’s been given is going to bring great pain.

I’ve been mulling over and pondering this verse for several months now. What exactly is pain in childbearing? Obviously, the physical labor of delivering a child is a painful experience. No woman will argue that (and no man will dare try). Now, I’m not looking to discount any male preachers or theologians, here, who look at “pain in childbearing” and (not wrongfully) assume it is what it is; pain in the actual act of delivery. We all have our birth stories, and some can be downright miserable, but scripture even tells us that we tend to forget how bad the pain actually was, because of the joy of the baby.

“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.” – John 16:21

And yet this was Eve’s punishment? A few minutes, or perhaps hours (or days, if you have it really rough) of birthing pain?

I think there’s a lot more to it.

It took us four years to conceive Michael. That time of waiting, of not knowing, and of wanting was hard, especially as the months and years went on and the tests kept coming back negative.

When we learned of Michael’s kidney issues in utero, the concern, the fear, and the helplessness were sometimes paralyzing.

Though Michael’s actual delivery was not too bad (or perhaps that was the joy and adrenaline speaking!), his premature arrival was terrifying as we wondered if he would be okay, and then sat day after day in the hospital yearning to take him home.

 

Watching him grow and learn, but seeing him go through seizures and sickness and sadness and disappointment breaks this mama’s heart, though I know that he will face disappointment often in life.

We were overjoyed when we found out we were pregnant in March, though faint lines made it uncertain at first. Within a week of confirmation that we were indeed, expecting, Jesus took that sweet baby home. Heartache. Emotional heartache. And physical exhaustion, ache, and brokenness.

And now, as we celebrate our third pregnancy and look forward to this sweet baby girl’s birth in March, there is joy, but there is also heartache. After a miscarriage, it’s hard not to worry about her well-being. I find myself unable to read or listen to stories of loss without being overwhelmed by concern. We wonder what her timing will be like and every new week we praise God that she’s still well. It sounds terrible to write, and I remind myself to trust and hope, but I also know that God is sovereign and His will is perfect. And He said there would be pain in the process.

You see, the physical pain of childbearing is real. But the emotional and spiritual pain is so much more. It doesn’t stop when baby is born. It’s there in the women who so desperately want to conceive and can’t. It’s there in the women who lose a sweet baby in the womb. It’s there every day in the life of every mother who sees her child endure pain, sickness or sadness.  It’s there when your child says he doesn’t love you or chooses a path you wouldn’t have wished for him. It's there when they disobey you, perhaps giving us a small taste of how God felt when Adam and Eve disobeyed.

We don’t hear much about Eve’s birth experiences, but as a woman, I assure you that the pain she endured when Cain murdered Abel shook her to her core, and likely scarred her through her last days.

I believe every woman endures the pain of childbearing in some way or another. We “bring forth children” with great trepidation and great pain, physically and emotionally. But also great faith, dependence on God, and abundant joy. And it’s the joy – the joy of teaching our children (from our own womb or those we’ve been blessed to raise or pour into) about Jesus and doing the absolute best we can do to raise men and women of God.

There will be pain in childbearing. Every step of the way. But there will also be great joy. Cling to the joy. For the joy of the Lord is your strength.

Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord,

the fruit of the womb a reward. – Psalm 127:3

Gorillas, Social Media, and Personal Responsibility

I’ll be the first to admit that I would much rather find someone to blame than take personal responsibility. Maybe I’m part of the “entitled” generation, maybe I grew up around too many lawyers, or maybe it’s facebook, but even in there, I tried to place the blame for my attitude on anything but myself and my character.

The interwebs blew up yesterday with the news of the endangered gorilla who had to be shot to protect the safety of a small boy who made his way into the enclosure. And I was sad. A lot of people are sad. But a lot of people (who were in no way involved) are also downright angry. I got lost in a couple comment feeds…

“Blame the mother!”

“make the parents pay!”

“it’s the zoo’s fault”

“negligence on all parts”

“Why didn’t they _____?!”

And then I was more sad. Sad because we aren’t capable of just being sad in a set of crummy circumstances. We have to point fingers. We have to place blame. We have to find justice (and of course, our idea of justice is obviously ideal and fair).

I get it. When we realized we have major water damage in the flooring of one of our rooms, I immediately tried to place blame. I wanted it to be someone’s fault. I wanted someone else to have to pay. It’s only fair. I shouldn’t be responsible to fix my own home. The inspector should pay. The previous owners should have known.

Spill your hot coffee? Sue the restaurant. Trip and fall? Whose sidewalk was it? Lost your job? Clearly, your boss was out to get you (been there too).

I pondered this today, though, on this day we celebrate and remember all those who have given their lives for our freedom. These men and women fought for something greater than themselves, and outside their realm of personal responsibility. Imagine if they had just sat back and whined about all the injustices, or even sat on the front lines tweeting their “how could yous?!”.

Imagine if police officers ignored offenses, or even just pointed fingers at perpetrators, instead of actually serving justice.

We can sit around when our house is on fire and question who is to blame, but there are firefighters who are going to fight to put the fire out and make sure we’re safe.

The American soldier isn’t sitting back and questioning and placing blame and telling someone else to do something about it. They’re standing on the front lines, willing to die to defend our freedoms – freedom to speak up, freedom to vote, freedom to whine on social media (though I somehow doubt that was why so many of our ancestors stood so proudly for our country).

There are definitely injustices in this world. There are sad things with no one in particular to blame (though we feel better when we can point fingers). And sometimes there is even someone to blame. But sometimes we’re the ones to blame. I know I am. 

Imagine, perhaps, a world where everyone took personal responsibility. We own up to our own faults and build our own character. Once we’ve worked on that, perhaps we step up for something beyond ourselves. We take ourselves out of the center of the universe, and start loving, serving, giving of ourselves for someone else’s good.

Perhaps then, we might truly appreciate and honor the American soldier.

Even more, we might understand and worship Jesus. Let’s face it, often times we are the ones to blame. We’re the ones who told the lie, shared the gossip, acted impurely, judged someone unfairly, and worshipped ourselves and our self-proclaimed, self-righteousness over the One True God.

Jesus lived a perfect life. He never sinned. He could have easily sat in a little bubble of self-righteous indignation at the world around him. But instead, he had compassion. He was saddened by our helplessness and sin, and he did something about the injustices he saw. He did something on our behalf. Not because we deserved it – no, we deserved death and eternal separation from God. He did it to give us freedom. He paid our penalty by dying on the cross, so that we might be viewed as righteous, and have freedom from the bondage of sin and death.

What does this have to do with a gorilla? Not a lot, other than perhaps a call to just allow the sadness to be just that. We live in a fallen world where sad things happen. Injust and awful things sometimes. Stop pointing fingers and realize that sometimes people are doing the best they can. And sometimes they’re not. And without Jesus, even our best will always fall short.

So celebrate those who serve for the greater good. Thank those who put your life and your needs ahead of their own. When there are real injustices, fight against them in actions, rather than just worlds on a screen. Look at the needs around you and consider serving or helping instead of just crying injustice at the unfortunate circumstances.

Thank a soldier.

Thank Jesus. For only his death could bring us the ultimate freedom. Then tell someone about Him - that's the greatest good you can do for someone.

And stay off of those comment feeds. They’ll suck the joy right out of you.

For we know him who said, “Vengeance is mine; I will repay.” And again, “The Lord will judge his people.” 31 It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God. – Hebrews 10:30