From the Archives: Children of God

Posted by Kathryn Soper | April 22, 2011 | 19 Comments

This post was originally shared on Maundy Thursday, the commemoration of Gethsemane. During those evening hours, readers posted their reflections on the atonement of Jesus Christ. On this Good Friday, I invite us all to do the same.

It’s a given that childbirth is painful. Even with the pain relief measures I’ve accepted each time, it has still hurt. A lot. But Thomas’s birth was in a whole different category of pain. He is my seventh child, born ten weeks early after two weeks of hospitalized bed rest. And his delivery brought me to the lowest point I’ve experienced in this mortal body.

It was precipitated by a combination of factors—the physical and emotional stress that had built up for two weeks beforehand, the uncertainty and fear that likely accompanies every premature delivery, and the out-of-my-element feeling that resulted from having this round be so unlike my other childbirth experiences. I didn’t know my own body, I didn’t know what would happen, I didn’t know anything. Every expectation I had about what my labor and delivery would be like was turned on its head. The baby, while appropriately turned on his head, must have been facing the wrong way, which meant that he wasn’t moving along the way he should have been. The anaesthesia failed. And the Pitocin-fueled contractions were enough to push me right over the edge of composure.

Now logically, everything was just fine in that birthing room. The atmosphere was tense because of the increased risk of problems with the baby’s health, and while all possible preparations were in place to temper a full-blown medical emergency, we never had one.

But I had a little emergency of my own.

It came right at that apex when the pain is intense enough to make me wish for a hasty exit from earth, or at least the freedom to curl up into a tight ball and preserve all my strength for weathering the pain. That’s the exact moment when I’m expected to assume a very un-curled-up position and somehow channel all my strength elsewhere. Of course it’s hard. But what I felt went way beyond hard. Suddenly and unexpectedly, I was walloped with a feeling of hopelessness I’ve never felt before during childbirth.

This was new and unthinkable territory. The determination that had kept me engaged thus far—I have to get through this, for the baby’s sake—began to slip. My concern for self was eclipsing concern for other—and not just any other, but the most innocent and vulnerable and dependent and deserving other imaginable.

“Push!” the nurse barked.

“I can’t!” I wailed. “Please get it out. Please.”

The doctor spoke in that calm voice reserved for hysterical patients. “The baby is too small to use forceps safely, Kathryn.” And I didn’t care. I didn’t care. I just wanted to be free from the burning despair that filled my skin, the helplessness of being required to do the impossible.

Despair, for a mother, may be defined as this: being in so much pain and desperation that you consider abandoning your child in order to bring yourself relief.

***

In young adulthood, when I was first awakening to Christianity, I found it difficult to fully sympathize with Jesus. I didn’t doubt that what he endured was awful, much more awful than anything that man has endured. But after all, he wasn’t a regular guy. Didn’t being a demi-god give him just a wee bit of an edge?

But as my understanding began to mature, I realized that Jesus’ super-capacity did not work in his favor, so to speak. Actually, the opposite was true. Yes, he was stronger—much stronger—than any of us. But that just meant he was able to bear far more. It didn’t make it easier. It just made the depths much, much deeper. And that’s just the beginning. Not only did the depths exceed any place within our ability to grasp, but he also had the capacity to free himself from those depths at any given time.

This realization impressed me afresh every time I read scripture and commentary regarding the atonement. But it wasn’t until Thomas’s birth that I developed true awe for this stunning center truth of Christianity: Christ not only voluntarily suffered beyond our puny mortal comprehension, to free us puny mortals, but also sustained his suffering through his own power. As he made his atonement for us, he didn’t merely submit to pain, he enabled it. The circuit could remain open only through his own unflagging will.

I still cry every time I think about Thomas’s delivery. I’m frightened by the memory of pain so keen, despair so thick. And I’m ashamed of my weakness, ashamed that I had, even for a fleeting time, looked for an out.

But the Lord is wise enough to not offer us outs in times of creative, redemptive extremity. No, that’s a torment he reserved only for himself, in Gethsemane and on Calvary, as he labored in sweat and blood to deliver children of God.

Category: Daily Special

Comments

19 Responses to “From the Archives: Children of God”

nanajan
March 20th, 2008 @ 11:41 pm

Wow! I related to your post on a deep level having given birth six times and having many of those same thoughts and feelings, especially during my two “unmedicated” births. I remember having nightmares about the pain afterwards and waking up in a cold sweat. But,I also was led to ponder on the Savior’s suffering and how incomprehensible it must have been having had just the tiniest taste of pain and suffering. Thank you for a poignant reminder at this Easter season.
Jill
March 21st, 2008 @ 11:31 am

I think also of the emotional pain he was burdened with as he took upon himself all of our hurts, all of the wounds to our souls. I take comfort in knowing that He knows how I feel and can make me whole again.
FoxyJ
March 21st, 2008 @ 2:17 pm

Although I have two children I have actually never experienced labor or the pain of childbirth. Last year, however, I went through an exceedingly difficult time in my life. The emotional pain was so, so horrible. I just wanted to curl up in a ball in my room and never come out again. I remember saying a lot of prayers that were something along the lines of “make it go away, I don’t want to deal with this”. It never went away, but somehow I found the strength to keep going and to face my life. I’m grateful that we have opportunities to grow, even though growth can be so painful at times.
m&m
March 21st, 2008 @ 6:19 pm

What a powerful piece. Thank you.
Emily M.
March 21st, 2008 @ 11:59 pm

Wow, Kathy. Thank you for this insight, which hit me hard:

“Yes, he was stronger—much stronger—than any of us. But that just meant he was able to bear far more. It didn’t make it easier. It just made the depths much, much deeper.”
cheryl
March 22nd, 2008 @ 9:43 am

That was beautiful. Experiencing the pain of childbirth has also brought me more knowledge about some of the pain our Savior suffered; if only knowing that He felt my pain.
Kathryn Soper
March 23rd, 2008 @ 9:33 pm

Thanks for your comments, ladies. I appreciate the reminders that the Lord fully understands our pain and that our painful experiences can work for our good.

I hope you had a joyous Easter.
Points of Interest, 3/22 « Mind, Soul, and Body
March 24th, 2008 @ 5:29 pm

[...] Lenard Soper, at Blog Segullah, has a magnificent and powerful essay about Childbirth, and the epiphany it gave her, into understanding the true nature of the atonement [...]
Ice Cream
April 30th, 2008 @ 7:38 pm

I very much needed to read this today. I am about to give birth to #5 and I sit in fear of not being able to do it one more time. I give birth naturally and the pain just gets worse and body weaker with every baby. I needed to hear the correlations between childbirth and Christianity. We are here to try to become more like our Savior. I think I can do this one more time.
Sharon
April 22nd, 2011 @ 8:07 am

I have felt emotional pain so deep that my heart physically hurt.

I have often wondered if, when on the cross the Savior again experienced the pain of Gethsemane for a second time, if that emotional pain was as excruciating as the physical crucifixion. I believe it was.
Angela
April 22nd, 2011 @ 9:24 am

Beautiful, Kathy. Thank you.
handsfullmom
April 22nd, 2011 @ 11:21 am

Beautiful. Thank you.
Linda
April 22nd, 2011 @ 2:19 pm

Thank you for acknowledging Holy Week A) in this moving way and B) at all. Like Advent, Holy Week doesn’t get the airtime in many LDS settings as I’d like.

Courageous, candid sharing. Thanks so much.
Strollerblader
April 22nd, 2011 @ 5:26 pm

I stand all amazed at the love Jesus offers me; confused at the grace that so fully He proffers me. I tremble to know that for me He was crucified; that for me, a sinner, He suffered, he bled and died.

But now, He lives.
He lives to comfort me when faint;
He lives to hear my soul’s complaint.
He lives to silence all my fears;
He lives to wipe away my tears;
He lives to calm my troubled heart;
He lives my hungry soul to feed;
He lives to help in time of need.
He lives, my kind, wise, heavenly friend;

He lives and loves me to the end.
Kerri
April 23rd, 2011 @ 3:38 pm

I loved this, Kathy.
Sage
April 23rd, 2011 @ 9:14 pm

Thank you for sharing this, Kathryn.

I know that point of giving up during childbirth (I had four without medication and one c-section). Relating that pain to Christ’s helps in a small way to see how pain can bring about something wonderful. I like your last phrase that he is giving birth to children of God through his efforts. A beautiful way to see Christ’s atonement.

Happy Easter! (and I’m with all those who wish Mormons had better Easter traditions. Is there even an Easter fireside from the first presidency?).
Melissa M.
April 23rd, 2011 @ 9:47 pm

Kathy, this was such a beautiful post. You helped me get in the right frame of mind for Easter. Thank you.
Sharlee
April 23rd, 2011 @ 10:36 pm

So beautiful. Thank you, Kathy.
Ana of the Nine Kids
April 24th, 2011 @ 10:55 am

Thank you so much for this!