I’m new to this idea of putting my voice out into the air. So, I’ve been searching for people to connect with as I write. One person I have begun reading and enjoying is Sarah Bessey. So today, when she invited people to link up on the topic of spiritual midwives  — women who have helped me as God gave birth to some new part of me — I decided to give this a try and jump on in.  (She also spoke of Patron Saints as people we don’t know personally who have helped us or that we want to emulate – but I have lumped them together for today.)

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My children were born at the hands of a midwife.

I too, have been born again at the hands of spiritual midwives.

The way my daughters were guided – with wisdom and help but never interference.

I have been guided but not controlled. Coaxed into a New Life.

Basically, women have come alongside me and helped me survive my spiritual births.

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I’ve had two women I LOVE give birth this month. Two new babies born into this version of life – Beautiful, strong, fragile, life-threatening and life-affirming birthing stories.

So, I have been thinking about the truth of birth a lot…
the awesome and the ugly.

How scary birthing is.
How no one can control it.
How birthing is messy.
How it is so messy.

How it pulls us back to the bones of living, exposing the ways we cover our nakedness in the day to day.

How it requires us to open up areas we absolutely did not and DO NOT want to see. (No thanks on the mirror on my wide-open vajewels.  I did NOT need to see THAT part of me at that angle, thanks!)

And no person’s birth story is the same. Absolutely no one can predict how or when a baby will be born.

We can get along just fine in life with very little help, taking care of the world and our selves, but at a birth you need help.

BTW – God bless the women who have orgasmic birthing stories. God bless you. The stories I most often hear are more warlike than dreamlike. Before I actually experienced a birth, I thought it would be one gorgeous day of finding my strength and beauty as a woman and mother.

“Giving birth is so natural and beautiful!! Giving birth rocks!”

I truly believed that would be The Way for me in childbirth.  Orgasmic in a sense … and, it wasn’t really.

I forget that God is the author of life. I forget that I can draw parallels between Him and His creation – his Words he spoke into being.

Daily, I forget  —
The way it is for physical birth is often the way it is for spiritual birth.

I still sometimes think that spiritual birth and growth is going to be this beautiful, natural experience – An experience where we move from one day to the next becoming closer to God and wiser as a person. Our skin will start to glow and we will walk around with people wondering how we got so beautiful and happy.

Think EAT, PRAY, LOVE… Isn’t that part of why we all bought that book? I too can have a beautiful awakening and rebirth into my true self and all I need to do is eat whatever I want then spend lots of freetime just breathing and sitting still and then fall in love in a foreign country.  AND DONE.

“Being a Christian is so natural and beautiful and happens in ways I can write so easily about!!  Being reborn rocks!”

But I am, honestly, in the middle of a spiritual birth and am reminded daily (whether I want to or not)

How scary even spiritual growth is.
How no one can control it.
How it is messy.
How it is so messy.

How it pulls us back to the bones of living, exposing the ways we cover our nakedness in the day to day.

How it requires us to open up areas we absolutely did not and DO NOT want to see. (No thanks on crying in staff meeting! Or at Starbucks when someone is says a harsh word.)

How no person’s spiritual birth story is the same. Absolutely no one can predict how or when each of us will find God in our lives or have a new epiphany about life.

How we can get along just fine in life with very little help, taking care of the world and our selves, but at a spiritual transition or birth you need help.

We need help in our spiritual births as well.

It’s funny, I would NEVER have considered giving birth to my babies alone with no help just because my body was made to do it and I believed it would be natural and beautiful.

I sought out a midwife to help and guide me. And she did! She checked my progress. She prepared me for birth. She was there the whole way. She cut the cord when it was around my baby’s neck.

I need to remember on days when it is difficult to grow in my life with God that my spiritual midwives are just as important.

My girl friends, my favorite author-friends (who will someday be my friends if all this Eternal life stuff is really real), my MOM, my sister, the writers all around me in the air blogging their spiritual stories. — all of them are my midwives at different times and in different ways.

They check on my progress. They encourage me. They give advice and then allow me the space to feel it all out. They also cut the cord if it’s starting to strangle me.

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If I am honest, though, I struggle with being honest.

I hate being vulnerable or open or messy. I do not let people come too close too often.  It’s only in extreme cases that I call on a midwife for intimate help.

So, my prayer is that I allow people into my mess and see what kind of birth story comes out of this year.

Prayer: I pray that I will continue to allow people into the intimate, messy, unpredictable parts of my life and that I can do the same for others. I pray for bravery, courage, and extreme humility and confidence at the same time.

Blessings on all of you, my future friends!

-Nicole