Due Date

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Today is Lydia’s due date. She’s been with us for 23 days already, but today is when a somewhat outdated calculation said she’d arrive.

I had an inkling she’d be early, so I hadn’t put too much stock into her actual due date, but I still always felt like I should have more time. And, despite being a decent size for a full-term baby and being mostly healthy, she’s classified as premature. Because even though she was premature by less than 2 days, these dates matter. Our medical understanding of what happens in the womb is driven by gestational age. We have to make assumptions about a baby’s health before they’re born because we have few other ways to determine what’s going on. And so we guess, usually based on a combination of the last menstrual period and the fetus’s development at an early scan.

When we think about it like that, it’s odd that parents prepare for their baby’s arrival based on a date that may or may not be anywhere close to the actual birth. I’m not a doctor so I’m sure there’s scientific evidence I’m unaware of that justifies the use of a due date to make medical decisions. And it is helpful to have some kind of ballpark. It would otherwise be incredibly difficult to know how and when to prepare.

I’d been preparing for Lydia’s arrival for a long time before she arrived, but when I went into active labour, I was still surprised. A VBAC (vaginal birth after caesarean) wasn’t the plan! But, in hindsight, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Matthew 6:5-8

This passage from the Gospel of Matthew is very similar to the one I wrote about last week. It’s about doing things in “the quiet places,” not striving to please others but instead seeking to serve God and build an authentic relationship with him. I won’t repeat myself but instead focus on the final verse of the section: “Do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him” (v.8).

Before Jesus launches into teaching the words we know now as the Lord’s Prayer, he says that we do not need to pray in extravagant phrases for God to hear us. God knows the desires of our hearts without us even articulating them.

This raises interesting and complex questions about prayer - what’s the point if God already knows what we want, and does it actually make any difference?

I heard a really good sermon over the weekend in which the preacher talked about some of the big questions around prayer: what it is, and why it is important. He used the analogy of a tug-of-war rope to explain that often prayer becomes about us trying to pull God towards our desires, whereas if we seek to stand alongside God in prayer, he will pull our desires towards those of his heart.

Prayer changes us at the same time as effecting change in our churches and communities. It does make a difference, but only when we accept that prayer is not us coming to God with a laundry list of things we want. It should be our attempt to discern if our desires line up with what God wants for us. Even if we don’t understand what happens next, it is important to consider prayer as a listening exercise rather than a series of pleas. “Babbling like pagans” (as Matthew says in verse 7) won’t get us anywhere because listening should be an important element of our prayer life.

But all of that, while helpful, doesn’t answer the questions raised by verse 8. Sure, listening to God is good, but if he knows what we need, why do we need to pray? And, if God is loving and giving, surely we can receive his gifts without asking for them.

This is where things get complicated, and I can’t claim to understand the verse fully. But I think this is where it’s important to remember that God knows us intimately and has done since before we were born (cf. Jeremiah 1:5, Psalm 139:13). God’s goodness towards us stems from the fact that we are each loved by him. He longs for us to know him and live according to his ways.

However, we are given the free will to choose our own paths. And so, even though God knows what we need, it is not in his nature to force it upon us. We receive when we ask for the things we need (in God’s eyes, not our own) because it is a demonstration of us aligning ourselves with his will. This does not mean we get everything we want in our timing because we don’t always pray for what we need… just what we want.

And in addition to this, we live in a world plagued by sin, which sometimes seems to thwart the plans for goodness to prevail. We need not look far to see evil among us. The horrific contents of the Epstein files provide just one example. But there’s also political corruption, state-endorsed violence, widespread racism and discrimination, kidnappings, abuse and murders… the list could go on.

I don’t have answers for why these things seem to pervade and poison our societies. I don’t believe they are the will of God, and I know many people have prayed (and continue to pray) against such things. And yet, I still believe that prayer is powerful. It appears to be a paradox, but maybe it’s just something Christians ought to wrestle with more.

I wanted Lydia to be born early. I was so sick of being pregnant. I wanted to be taken seriously by doctors and nurses. I wanted the pain to end and the anxiety to disappear. I was adamant that I would have a C-section. Lydia had other ideas, but her birth (as it happened) was what I needed desperately.

When faced with the reality that I was going to give birth the so-called ‘natural’ way, I was overcome with self-doubt. I didn’t believe I could do it. I hadn’t realised that driving my insistence on a second C-section was a deep-rooted belief that I was incapable. I had attributed it to wanting familiarity, which was certainly a surface-level concern. If I pushed myself to be even more honest, it was about wanting control. Neither of these things were bad reasons, and I am adamant that C-sections are neither the easy way out nor a lesser way to bring your baby into the world.

It’s just that it wasn’t until Lydia was born that I realised fear and self-doubt were the things driving me to make the decisions I was making. This wasn’t just true for the C-section decision. It’s been how I’ve made decisions for a long time. I haven’t trusted myself and let desires for familiarity and control override any gut feeling or sliver of self-confidence.

I don’t know for sure if God convened my VBAC, but I do believe that he knew I needed to overcome my fear and self-doubt. I hadn’t asked him to fix that within me… probably because I didn’t realise the stronghold it had. But the VBAC had a significant effect on my self-confidence. I am still so proud of myself, and something within me has shifted. I don’t think I’m invincible, but I feel less captivated by fear.

The prayers I had for the right birth experience weren’t always articulated in words. They were a deeper groaning from the depths of my soul. Lydia’s arrival happened at just the right time and in just the right way. It was what I needed, even if it’s not what I asked for.

Prayer remains somewhat of a mystery to me, and I think it should to some extent. But I am glad to worship a God who knows me so well that he can provide for my needs before I even know what to say. I don’t need to be eloquent or elaborate before him. I just need to bring myself and my concerns to him, and he’ll do the rest.

I hope this was helpful, or at least provoked some interesting thoughts. Please feel free to send it along to someone and encourage them today. If you want to connect with me in other ways, you can follow me on Instagram.

With much love and gratitude,
Stephanie