Pregnancy & Postpartum

When Birth Doesn’t Go To Plan: Where Is God In A Difficult Birth Story?

When Birth Doesn’t Go To Plan: Where Is God In A Difficult Birth Story?

It took me 14 months and a second pregnancy to admit I had a traumatic birth. Nearly a year and a half later, I finally realized what had been hovering over my shoulder like a black cloud, a haze enveloping me ever since the birth of my first...

I think our deepest fears are faced when we experience trauma. In the moments between my body beginning contractions and finally meeting my son, I came the closest to my mortality as a person I had ever been. Traumatic births bring the fragility of our existence front and center...

But there is hope. Coming to us through the very same process we are struggling through, the very process God cursed: Mary carried Christ for nine months, laboring, groaning, and finally delivering our redeemer in a barn.

God used the curse, to break the curse.

Finding God in My Postpartum Fire*

Finding God in My Postpartum Fire*

The birth of our babies—especially our first—is supposed to be magical. We expect a quick rebound from what’s often the most physically challenging experience in our lives. Messages fired at us on television, through the internet, and on social media aim to convince us: once we embrace our child for the first time, we’ll float our way through bliss.

What if our stories are different?

My first encounter with childbirth, for example, left me feeling as if I’d been tossed into a furnace.
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I suffered, but I didn’t despair. Why not? I credit the hand of God. From the abundance of baby meals sent by friends and family, to the compassionate care of my OB, to the willingness of many to listen as I retold the story of my traumatic birth—I was cared for. The Lord met me in my furnace.

Through the fire, I had my clearest-yet view of Christ. I saw and felt his dedication to me. I learned to trust him not just day-by-day, but moment-to-moment. Postpartum depression slowed me down. I learned to savor the good moments.

A Gospel Prescription In Postpartum Depression

A Gospel Prescription In Postpartum Depression

"The fog of physical exhaustion, emotional weariness, and feelings of constant failure didn’t lift for at least the first year... I simply wasn’t myself; I felt like a hollow shell of a person. I didn’t enjoy being around people, was increasingly short-tempered...The difference was Postpartum Depression...

For those of you in the throws of PPD...You can rest. It isn’t solely up to you to fix yourself - physically, emotionally, or spiritually. Healing takes time. But as you wait, know God is working on your behalf...

By God’s grace, you can be honest with your husband, open with friends, and seek the counsel of medical professionals, boasting all the more gladly of your weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon you. 

Postpartum depression can’t separate you from the love of God, friend (Romans 8:39). Because of the reconciling power of the gospel for believers, “The Lord your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exult over you with loud singing” (Zephaniah 3:17).

Even when you’re hurting, trust the gospel’s prescription for your heart and the healing comfort of his nearness."
 

Hope for Pregnancy and Infant Loss

Hope for Pregnancy and Infant Loss

October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month and we at Risen Motherhood want to recognize all of you who have lost a child too soon. Below you'll find a selection of articles, posts, music and podcasts that we pray encourages a mom in the midst of grief. Just click on the links at the bottom of each quote to go to the original source. 

Why You Don't Have To Love Your Postpartum Body

Why You Don't Have To Love Your Postpartum Body

Gaining and losing nearly 140 lbs. in the span of four years, well, that'll do a number on your body. 

After every baby, at about four weeks post-partum, I've looked longly at my pre-baby jeans and wondered why I ever thought I wasn't skinny enough. I looked at the width of the leg opening, the number on the tag and I prayed that, 1) someday I'd fit into them again, and 2) if I do, that I'd actually appreciate it and love my body for it.