Waiting for Deliverance: How the Final Weeks of Pregnancy Point Us to Christ

As I write this, I’m in the last lap of pregnancy—that dreaded space where time seems to slow, everything hurts, and you don’t know whether the end is coming tonight or three weeks from now. Sleep isn’t happening, walking becomes waddling, and I’m washing everything in sight—just in case. The birth bag is packed, the childcare instructions are posted on the fridge, the final appointments are scheduled, and I’m just holding my breath now . . . waiting. 

Even though we endure the discomforts and agitations of pregnancy for nine whole months, there’s a unique restlessness of the final weeks. It’s why moms ask each other “How are you feeling?” and reassure that “You’re getting so close!” with a special depth of empathy in our eyes and hugs—the warmth of “I’ve been there. I know it’s hard.” Even years out from birth ourselves, we can poignantly remember that feeling of just wanting to be done—but also the lack of control over the timing or outcome of that long-awaited deliverance. It’s an uncertain, uncomfortable place to be for sure.

We know (at least logically!) that we won’t be pregnant forever, but when we’re stuck in the holding pattern of those final weeks, our anxious longings reflect the ultimate deliverance we’re all awaiting in Christ. Here are four gospel parallels we see that can help turn our hearts back to him in these antsy moments:

Daily Discomforts

I’ve yet to hear any mom describe the last stage of pregnancy as “comfortable.” The closer we all get to giving birth, the more we seem to struggle with the growing weight, the pressure on our joints and muscles (and bladders), the shifting positions of baby, the insomnia, the pelvic tingles, and more. Simple things like driving or loading the dishwasher or tying our shoes become Herculean tasks, complete with sighs and breath breaks and groans.

Similarly, the longer we journey on this side of our heavenly rebirth, the more we feel ill-at-ease with this fallen world. We recognize viscerally that we weren’t made to be here forever, but we feel stuck in the meantime in an uncomfortable world full of injustice and uncertainty. 

Romans 8:19-22 reminds us why. Since the first sin in the garden, creation has been subjected to futility, bondage, and corruption, and it groans continually now in anticipation of redemption. What we feel in our bodies, on the cusp of childbirth, reflects this global agitation and desire to be “done.” Done with suffering, done with grief, done with sin and conflict and brokenness and pain. This isn’t where we were made to stay.

Painful Passage

The process of getting to the other side of deliverance, though, doesn’t happen without some amount of agony and loss. Even the most straightforward, on-plan birth comes laced with struggle because sin and suffering touch every inch of our human experience. And certainly for many of us, we don’t have easy or joy-filled deliveries—there are sudden deviations from expectations, unforeseen complications, and long hours of suffering with little to no progress felt. There may be tears and hemorrhages and C-section scars and more ahead of us. So whether it’s our first birth or sixth, the pending pain can loom over these weeks, filling our hearts with fear and dread. We don’t know exactly when it will come and what lies beyond.

On a larger scale, no one gets to heavenly deliverance without passing through death’s shadow. And dying isn’t pretty—it’s a passage full of mess, blood, loss of faculties, separation, and pain. The fall has made these realities inevitable; the Bible promises us both pain in childbearing[1] and tribulation in life as a whole on this side of redemption[2]. So, as we anticipate the labor ahead, it can remind our hearts of our even greater need to be set free from this “body of death” (Romans 7:24).

A New Normal

We feel an acute restlessness during these remaining weeks of pregnancy, yet we still endure them with hope. Why? Because we trust that the painful passage through a delivery room will usher us into a season of joy and flourishing. A whole new person awaits us there—someone we will kiss and love and nurture and delight in. Our family and our motherhood will both grow and transform as we greet this child and fold him or her into our daily lives. The space before that feels long and arduous, but the wonder of seeing by sight what we have only known deep inside propels us to persevere.

Here too, we see a glorious connection to the larger gospel story. On this side of our spiritual rebirth, we press on by faith. The face of a Son—“the firstborn of all creation” (Colossians 1:15)—awaits us just beyond the veil, but we can’t see it quite yet. When we’re finally in his presence, we’ll step inside a whole new life—an expanded personhood full of wonder and celebration. The groanings and tears and pains of this “last trimester” will all be behind us[3], not even worthy of comparison to the joy of our new normal.[4]

The Comforts of Christ

But here, in the “already-but-not-yet,” we still groan. We long for birth to be over, empty arms to be filled, and troubles to cease, but we’re not quite there yet. And so we cling to Christ—both as mothers trekking towards a birthing room and pilgrims traveling Home. What he has called us to, he will “restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish” us for (1 Peter 5:10). He came to take on the struggles of flesh and blood as our great Mediator, and he destroys “the one who has the power of death” (Hebrews 2:14). Therefore, we can hide all of our fears of pain and suffering and unknowns in Jesus’s safe and loving hand, trusting that he will go before and behind us in all that’s to come.

Once we get through these final weeks of pregnancy and, Lord-willing, hold a precious baby close, we still face the realities of raising him or her in a fallen world. And that’s where the parallels break down between these two great “deliverances” we await as expectant moms. Labor and delivery might offer us some temporary relief from swollen feet and raging hormones and aching backs, but we still have to face postpartum. We still have to walk through the inevitable sorrows of mothering this child in a culture that doesn’t yet recognize Christ as King. We still have innumerable losses, pains, and discomforts that will pierce our hearts once today’s trials are over.

Our ultimate hope, then, can’t be short-sighted. We fix our eyes not just on the deliverance that is seen and temporary but on the eternal one to come.[5] This is our true and lasting joy—what we taste in part when we finally get to hold our newborn child and what we continue longing for and leaning towards every day yet to come. 

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! According to his great mercy, he has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead” (1 Peter 1:3).

[1] Genesis 3:16

[2] John 16:33; 2 Corinthians 4:8-10; 2 Timothy 3:12; 1 Peter 4:12

[3] Revelation 21:4

[4] Romans 8:18

[5] 2 Corinthians 4:18