About a year ago, a friend called to tell me she was having another baby. “That’s wonderful!” I exclaimed. “But . . . are you okay? You sound sad.”
I could hear the tears in her voice. “Oh, I’m happy,” she quickly said. “I’m very thankful, it’s just . . . my pregnancies are so hard! Last time it was really rough, and I just don’t know how I’m going to do it again. I’ll be sick and exhausted and so uncomfortable, and this time I have to take care of a toddler, too!”
“I understand,” I said sympathetically. I looked at my three little girls playing in the living room. “But it’s going to pass so quickly! You just need to pamper yourself—get a prenatal massage, schedule a maternity photo shoot. You know, celebrate it!”
Fast-forward one year. My friend has a beautiful baby boy, and I’m twenty-three weeks pregnant with (surprise!) baby #4. After an exhausting weekend, I have hit my absolute limit. Thankfully, the kids are with their grandparents for the afternoon, and I collapse into bed.
Everything aches. I can feel the blood pulsing through my swollen veins. I’m so hungry, but my stomach is already painfully tight with no room to spare. I just want to sleep, but I can’t stop fidgeting my restless legs. All of a sudden, one sob slips out. And then another. Before long, I’m boo-hooing so hard the bed frame is shaking. All I can think is, Maternity photo shoot?! THAT’S the advice I gave my miserably pregnant friend?! Schedule a maternity photo shoot?
I want to go back in time and slap myself, but instead I waddle downstairs where my husband takes one look at me and says, “Oh honey, come here.” He pulls me into his lap just like I’m two years old (which is exactly how I feel) and says, “Tell me all about it.”
“It’s just so hard!” I cry. Then I ramble on unintelligibly about my advice to my friend ages ago. “I don’t know what I was thinking! I don’t need a massage or a photo shoot . . . I need truth!” I sob. “I need the Bible. I need the Bible!“
I go on like this for a while until Clint finally interrupts. “Sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I sniff. “Do you have some advice?”
“No . . . ” he lets out a low groan, “But you’re kind of crushing me.”
The Shameful Struggle
In many ways, struggling with pregnancy is a taboo topic. Because the pain of infertility is so real and raw, it seems wildly insensitive to suggest that pregnancy is anything but a blessing. Not to mention carrying a baby feels like your first official job as a mom.
If you’re already struggling, does that mean you’re already failing? And what kind of ungrateful person wrestles with a good thing? Talk about “first world problems”! What would others even think if they knew you were having such a hard time? Oh my goodness, would they pity the baby for having such a weak and whiny mom?
You could drown in the guilt and shame. But the reality is, pregnancy truly is challenging. If you’re reading this article, I probably don’t need to convince you on that point. The real question is, how do we navigate it biblically?
For starters, we must take “pregnancy” out of the worldly context in which we’re used to viewing it. It’s not all about maternity clothes (or photo shoots!) or celebrity baby names or stretch mark cream or all the other things we google constantly. Those things aren’t inherently bad, but they’re not the big picture. Ultimately, carrying a baby is about faithfully serving Christ. You know what that means? It means the reward of pregnancy isn’t just the baby. It’s becoming more like Jesus.
Four Ways Pregnancy Sanctifies Us
How does pregnancy make us more like Jesus? If you’re miserably pregnant, let me share four truths with you, and let’s cling to them together until that blessed day when our water finally breaks.
1. Pregnancy smashes body image idols.
One of the greatest ways pregnancy sanctifies us is by attacking a mighty enemy: the idol of body image. Before pregnancy, I never realized how deeply I associate my figure with my identity. It’s not like I’ve ever had the body of a supermodel, but it triggered my deepest insecurities to trade a waistline for a watermelon. Yet each day as you and I make that exchange, we have the opportunity to embrace the biblical truth that our value has nothing to do with numbers on a scale or stretch marks we can’t control or swollen ankles and a puffy face. We are beautiful because Christ’s love makes us lovely.
Ezekiel 16Â tells the story of God’s love for His people, who are personified as His bride. Verse 14 says: