What Does an Ideal Birth Look Like From a Christian Perspective?

Aug 31

10 min read

This is the final post in my little series exploring the idea of an “ideal birth”.

In the first, I talked about what I mean when I talk about an ideal birth.

In the second, I explored where some of the pressure to achieve a particular kind of birth might come from. I touched on the topic of faith, but shared that this is part of the conversation that I think deserved more breathing room.

Because for Christian women, our expectations around birth aren't necessarily shaped only by social media, antenatal education, birth workers or the stories of other women.

Sometimes they are wrapped up in our theology too.

And that can make the disappointment when birth doesn't look how we hoped particularly difficult to navigate.

What does the Bible say?

If we're going to look at birth from a Christian perspective, the Bible seems like a fairly sensible place to start.

In Genesis 3, after Adam and Eve disobey God, we read about the consequences of the Fall. Sin enters the world, the relationship between humanity and God is fractured, and the world is no longer as God originally intended it to be.

And in Genesis 3:16, God says to Eve:

“I will make your pains in childbearing very severe; with painful labour you will give birth to children.”

As an aside, there is also an interesting discussion to be had about whether our common English translations of Genesis 3:16 accurately capture the meaning of the original Hebrew. Tara Menzies, creator of Christian Hypnobirthing and author of Faith-Filled Childbirth, explores an alternative understanding of this passage and what it might mean for the way Christians think about pain in childbirth. I don't have space to unpack that here, but if this subject interests you, I would really encourage you to explore her perspective for yourself.

Fast forward a few milennia and Jesus is born.

At the heart of our Christian beliefs is that Jesus came to redeem what was broken. Through His death and resurrection, the separation caused by sin is overcome. We are no longer under the condemnation of sin.

But that raises an interesting question when it comes to birth.

If pain in childbirth appears as part of the consequences of the Fall, and Jesus came to redeem us from the Fall, should Christian women expect childbirth to be pain-free?

There are Christians who would answer yes.

I understand the reasoning behind it. And I absolutely believe that pain-free birth is possible. There are women who genuinely describe giving birth without pain. I have both witnessed it and spoken to women who describe their birth as such.

But I think we need to be very careful about what we conclude when that isn't a woman's experience.

Because birth can hurt (including mine)

I occupy a slightly unusual position in this conversation. I am a Christian. I am a midwife. And I teach hypnobirthing.

One of the things I teach is that birth does not inevitably have to be painful.

The sensations of labour can be incredibly intense, certainly, but there are women who wouldn't describe them as painful at all. Understanding physiology, reducing fear, feeling safe, breathing, relaxation and the environment around us can all influence our experience of labour.

I believe that.

And yet my own experience of giving birth was that it hurt...a lot.

There were multiple points during my labour when I said:

“I can't do this.”

It felt too much.

So where does that leave me and the thousands of other Christian women who had a similar experience?

Did we not believe enough? Surrender enough? Pray hard enough?

Was my body somehow less redeemed than the body of the Christian woman who experienced a pain-free birth?

I don't believe any of those things are true.

We don't apply this theology to other circumstances

I think this is where we need to look at birth within the wider context of what it means to live as a Christian in a body, because there is a tension here.

As Christians, we believe in the redemption of Christ. Our bodies belong to Him. We believe that Jesus has overcome the curse of sin.

And yet we are still living in a world in which we see the effects of brokenness.

Christians get sick, develop diabetes, experience chronic pain and are disabled.

And while there are certainly Christian traditions that think about healing differently, I think most of us would recoil at the suggestion that somebody living with a long-term health condition simply hadn't trusted God enough.

We wouldn't look at a woman with diabetes and say:

“Perhaps if you'd had more faith, your pancreas would work properly.”

And yet, when pain-free, uncomplicated birth becomes associated with faith, trust or surrender, the unspoken implication is that a different outcome somehow reflects a failure in one of those things.

That is an enormous burden to place on a woman who may already be trying to make sense of a difficult birth.

I believe women's bodies are beautifully designed for birth.

I believe physiological birth works incredibly well.

I believe our environment matters.

I believe fear can affect physiology.

I believe hypnobirthing can make an enormous difference.

I believe pain-free birth is possible.

I believe in prayer.

And I believe God can intervene physically.

But I do not believe that experiencing pain, developing a complication, needing intervention or having a caesarean tells me anything about the strength of a woman's faith.

Those things can all be true at the same time.

But pressure can come from the other direction too

So far, I've talked quite a lot about the Christian expectation that birth should be physiological, uncomplicated or even pain-free. But I don't want to inadvertently suggest that this is the only version of an “ideal Christian birth” that women can feel pressured towards.

Christian beliefs can be used to place pressure on women in almost the opposite direction too.

We can be encouraged to be grateful for whatever care we received because ultimately we have a healthy baby. We can confuse trusting God with simply accepting whatever happens to us. Ideas around submission and authority can make it particularly difficult to question the recommendation of someone in a position of medical authority. And “God had a plan” can sometimes be offered far too quickly when a woman is trying to process a birth that was frightening, traumatic or simply very different from what she had hoped for.

None of those things sit comfortably with me either.

Trusting God doesn't mean switching off your discernment. Gratitude doesn't require you to pretend that something didn't hurt. And believing that God is sovereign doesn't mean that everything that happens during birth is necessarily what He wanted to happen.

Perhaps, then, the pressure on Christian women isn't really towards one particular type of birth. It is the temptation to attach spiritual meaning to the outcome, whether that means believing a physiological birth proves that we trusted God enough, or believing that accepting whatever happened without question proves that we did.

I don't think either gives us a particularly healthy picture of faith in birth.

So how do we approach birth as Christian women?

If our faith isn't demonstrated by achieving a particular kind of birth, or by unquestioningly accepting whatever happens, then what does it look like to bring our faith into birth in a healthy way?

For me, faith still has a huge role to play.

Because your faith isn't an accessory that you take off when you walk into a hospital. It is part of who you are. And I strongly believe that women birth best when they feel safe enough to be completely themselves.

Birth can be raw.

You might pray. You might worship. You might cry out to God.

You might also scream, repeatedly announce that you absolutely cannot do this (like me) or make noises you didn't know you were capable of making.

You might even swear. And if you are a Christian woman and you swear your way through transition, I promise you I am not standing beside you questioning your salvation. I did it too, and there is research that shows that is a very effective method of pain relief.

You do not need the additional pressure of wondering whether the people around you are judging how “Christianly” you are giving birth.

Feeling watched, inhibited or judged is hardly conducive to oxytocin. You need to be free to labour as you.

And that includes bringing your faith fully into the room.

Making care decisions as a Christian

Bringing your faith into your birth isn't only about praying, worshipping or feeling free to express yourself in labour (all of which I hugely advocate). It can also shape the way you navigate decisions about your care.

Birth doesn't always follow a predictable path, and sometimes you will be presented with choices you hadn't anticipated. In those moments, as a Christian, it is entirely reasonable to want to seek God as part of deciding what to do.

Jesus says in John 10:27:

“My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me.”

Christians experience God's guidance in different ways.

Some people would describe very clearly hearing the audible voice of God speaking to them. Others experience a deep sense of peace about a particular decision. Sometimes it is through Scripture, prayer or the wisdom of other people.

So if you are faced with a decision during pregnancy or birth, I think it is entirely reasonable to say:

“I need some time to pray about this.”

That doesn't mean ignoring medical information.

In fact, gathering good information can be part of discerning what to do with it. Ask your healthcare professional how urgently a decision actually needs to be made.

On the rare occassion, birth involves genuine emergencies where decisions really do need to happen immediately.

But usually, there is time.

Sometimes that might mean ten or fifteen minutes. Sometimes it might mean a few hours. For decisions made during pregnancy, you may have days or even weeks.

Ask:

“How much time do I have to make this decision?”

Then use the time you have. Ask questions. Understand the benefits and risks. Talk to the people you trust. Pray.

James 1:5 tells us:

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you.”

Faith and informed decision-making do not need to sit in opposition to one another.

So let's look at some practical ways you can prepare for birth.

Prepare for the birth you want — but don't only prepare for that birth

If you are hoping for a physiological birth, I wholeheartedly support preparing for one.

Learn about birth physiology. Create an environment that supports oxytocin. Learn breathing and relaxation techniques. Think about who you want around you. Consider where you feel safest giving birth.

But please don't let preparation for the birth you want become refusal to learn about any other kind of birth.

Understanding something does not mean you are inviting it to happen.

Learn about pain relief, even if you hope not to use it. Learn what an assisted vaginal birth involves. Learn what happens during a caesarean.

And perhaps most importantly, think about what matters to you beyond the route by which your baby is born.

Maybe worship music matters to you, having someone to pray with you, skin-to-skin, delayed cord clamping where possible or your partner to announce whether you've had a boy or girl. Perhaps there are particular words, Scriptures or affirmations you want spoken over you.

Many of the things that make a birth feel like your birth can remain even when circumstances change.

Your preferences don't have to disappear because Plan A does.

Tell God what you actually want

Sometimes I think we can misunderstand surrender.

We imagine that surrendering our birth to God means not wanting anything too strongly.

I don't think that's what our relationship with God looks like.

Read the Psalms. David is extraordinarily honest with God. There is fear. Anger. Confusion. Desperation. Joy. Grief. Praise. Questioning.

God is not frightened by our honesty.

So if you desperately want a homebirth, tell Him.

If you're frightened of a caesarean, tell Him.

If you want to experience physiological birth, tell Him.

If you are scared of pain, tell Him.

If you are carrying trauma from another birth, tell Him.

If there is something you are desperately praying will happen, tell Him that too.

Surrender doesn't require pretending that you don't care.

For me, surrender is closer to:

God, this is what I want.

This matters deeply to me.

I am going to prepare, make informed decisions and advocate for the things that matter.

But ultimately, I give this birth to You.

And if it doesn't look like the picture I have in my head, I know You will still be there.

That is very different from passivity.

Find your people before you give birth

And finally, identify the people who will walk alongside you afterwards.

Not just people who will pray for you (although that is important too).

People who will make you dinner, hold your baby while you shower and who will listen when you say:

“I'm really struggling with what happened.”

Without immediately replying:

“But you're both healthy. That's all that matters.”

Because it isn't.

You can be overwhelmingly grateful that your baby is alive and simultaneously devastated by what happened during their birth. You can thank God for protecting you while also grieving the experience you had.

Those emotions are not mutually exclusive.

You need people who will allow you to be honest about that.

Good Christian community should point us back towards God, absolutely. But sometimes it should do that while simultaneously loading the dishwasher.

Prayer and practical support belong together.

And it is worth identifying those people before you need them.

So what is an ideal Christian birth?

I don't think it is a pain-free birth, a physiological birth, a birth without medication or one where we didn't ask questions.

Perhaps an ideal Christian birth isn't actually defined by the route your baby takes into the world at all. Perhaps it is one where you are free to bring your whole self. Your body, mind, faith, hopes, fears, preferences, questions and vulnerability.

One where you are informed about your options and supported to make decisions about your care. Where your faith is welcomed rather than something you feel you need to leave outside the room. Where you can seek God's wisdom while also listening to or questioning medical advice. Where you can pray boldly for the birth you desire while surrendering the outcome to Him. And most importantly where, if everything changes, you don't leave believing that you failed.

Because whether you birthed your baby peacefully in water without experiencing pain, screamed your way through every contraction, asked for an epidural, needed forceps, or met your baby in an operating theatre:

God did not leave the room.

Your birth outcome is not a measure of your faith. And perhaps that is one expectation around an “ideal Christian birth” that we really do need to let go of.