While I was pregnant, I read up on natural childbirth and homebirths, watching videos our childbirth educator/doula sent us and trying to get a sense of what it would be like. Several mothers talked about how spiritual labor and giving birth were: experiences of opening themselves up to the love that was pouring forth out of them, of feeling so close to God or Spirit, of divine ecstasy when they first looked on their child's precious face. So I can be forgiven for thinking that this whole L&D thing was going to be kind of groovy and meditative, that it might even bestow upon me some spiritual epiphany that would blow my mind.
Ha.
1) Holy sh*t this hurts; almost enough to make me believe in the concept of original sin with childbirth as the punishment for Eve's transgression
and
2) They totally glossed over this in the Gospel accounts of Jesus' birth. Mary went from "being with child" and her "time being near" to calmly wrapping him in swaddling clothes and laying him in the manger?? Yeah right. There had to be some blood, mucus, tears, sweat, and other bodily fluids involved, and I bet it was terrifying and hurt. Where's that part??
Although I did call on Jesus a few times while contracting (my mom thought she should have told the nurses that I'm a pastor so they didn't think I was taking God's name in vain...trust me, it was calling on Jesus for reals), my thoughts just after delivery were mostly "thank God that's over" and "holy cow, I have a PERSON." Given that Little Bit (a term of endearment here in the American South) was born on Easter Sunday--probably while Breadcrumb was being dedicated!--I did fish vaguely for some comparisons with the Resurrection, but came up rather short. After all, this was our miracle, but not a miracle for all of humanity. In a way, it was just our special day--and because I missed any kind of church celebration, it also meant my Holy Week ended on a strangely ambiguous note. I had my first Braxton-Hicks contractions during a Spirit-filled Good Friday service with our local homeless community, then spent Holy Saturday laboring in the tomb, then brought forth new life on Easter Sunday--but without any real community or context to reflect on what it means that God is, in God's essence, Love that goes beyond all things, even death. I had to wait for the person covering my position at work to do the theological reflecting for me: Little Bit "already knows that Easter sunrise is the time for events that change everything."
A week plus out, we're still figuring out just how much everything has changed...and what it means, spiritually speaking, to be a mom, a dad, and a new little beloved person in the world. We'll keep you updated!
Leah
PS I'm American, so please forgive the non-British spelling of the odd word here and there.
Little Bit on Easter Sunday.