Sarah D. Shearer

Maranatha’s birth was one of the most humbling and profound experiences of my life.

For some reason, with it being my third child, I thought I was getting the hang of this whole childbirth thing. I had two great delivery stories under my belt, and since both of my other babies were a few days late, I anticipated number three would make his or her appearance a few days after their due date and come out much sooner since they were my third.

Instead, Maranatha decided to come nine days early take a day to get here. Early in the day on Monday my water began to break very slowly. So slowly, I was in complete denial that it was happening and that I was soon to have a baby especially since it was over a week and a half before before my due date.

My sister-in-law who is a labor and delivery nurse, my Midwife, and Lucas assured me that it really was happening, even though I wasn’t feeling any contractions. Contractions finally did come that day , but they were fairly sporadic and very manageable. I knew what intense labor felt like and this was not it.

Fast-forward several hours and I’m still on again off again, but we had already made the journey to the Birth Cottage in Tallahassee and I had already told people that baby was coming. When it seemed like things should really be picking up they completely dropped off and I felt nothing but overwhelming pressure because I knew I was on a clock since my water had broken.

I began to feel really guilty that my Midwife had come and so had my friend Alison who was going to be with us for the Birth. We were all gathered together and I had nothing going on.

My phone was dinging with notifications asking about my progress and I had no progress to offer anyone. I begin to spiral into a deep dark place that lasted overnight into the next day.

I was overcome with guilt that people were going out of their way for me and I couldn’t seem to keep my contractions coming, and I was disillusioned and frustrated that the Lord was dragging this out when I thought it was going to be so quick.

Monday night we stayed in Tallahassee and Lucas and I slept maybe an hour each. I watched the sun come up and I felt no closer to meeting my baby.

During this, I was having an inward dialogue with the Lord, where I was begging him for some sort of encouragement that I actually was going to have a baby, even though the process had become much longer than I could’ve anticipated. I felt like he was trying to teach me a lesson and I wasn’t going to have the baby until I had learned the lesson.

He began to reveal to me how much control I thought I had over my whole birthing experience. How I had gone in with a plan and the plan was not unfurling as I had hoped and because of that, I lost all Joy and hope. It’s always discouraging when you’re faced with a challenge and you respond poorly instead of with faith and boldness.

I couldn’t contrive this experience, I couldn’t make it happen, and I was getting really really tired. I heard my own annoying voice in my head going on and on about how great I was going to do this time around and I was a pro at childbirth because I had done this twice before unmedicated. The depth of my pride was displayed before me and I began to weep.

This was just when my labor decided to really pick up sometime in the middle of the morning on Tuesday. As contractions intensified to an almost surreal level, I begin to repent to the Lord of my performative spirit I had brought to much of motherhood.

I like to win at everything. I like to be good at being a mom. I like to make it look easy. And this was not turning out to be easy at all. I was exhausted mentally and physically and the pain of back labor was almost more than I could bear. As I begged God to get this baby out, he showed me a picture of him carrying me up a mountain. I knew he was saying that he was going to have to carry me this time. I wasn’t going to get the credit for this one. He was going to get all the glory and I was going to have to rest in him and allow him and other people to love me. My birth team never left my side and helped me through the hardest four hours I can remember.

And suddenly, she was here. A brilliant burst of sunglight who came when I had just measured 8 cm and felt no urge to push. In one huge contraction and push —she arrived.

Maranatha, come Lord Jesus. Maranatha, our lord has come. Maranatha, a cry to the Lord which I felt deep in my soul. Please lord, come. I need you! And he did. And he helped me through. My great reward was an exceedingly beautiful baby girl born safely and naturally despite all my worst fears.

An incredible gift who will always and forever remind me of my weakness and my great need for Christ to sustain me.