By Katie Diltz ‘10 M.A.Theo.
Assistant Director of Echo, McGrath Institute for Church Life

My husband and I are expecting our first child. Currently in my third trimester of pregnancy, I find myself reflecting on how my body is preparing me for motherhood—or, in other words, how my body is preparing me to love in a profound way that I have yet to fully comprehend.

Early in my pregnancy, during that nerve-wracking time when miscarriage is common and the only obvious reminder of pregnancy is the constant feeling of nausea, I found myself having to put a great deal of trust in God (and my body). Most days I didn’t “feel” pregnant; I had no way of knowing if everything was progressing as expected. To be honest, when we had our first ultrasound, I was a little surprised to see a tiny, squirmy baby and hear a strong heartbeat. I half expected to see nothing there! Even after seeing that very real evidence of our baby, I spent the next couple months having to trust what I couldn’t see but knew to be true—a tiny human was in fact growing in my belly.

In the second trimester, the nausea subsided, my energy levels were restored, and, although I still couldn’t feel much movement from the baby, my growing stomach was slowly beginning to reveal to everyone that I was pregnant. All of the healthy choices I had been making for the baby—no drinking alcohol, cutting back my caffeine intake, powering through headaches without medication, changing my exercise routines, and giving myself permission to relax or simply do less when needed—became a little easier once I actually felt pregnant and had the growing belly to prove it. Each of these sacrifices, some more significant than others, slowly helped me to relinquish a little bit of control in order to care for my child.

If you ask my husband or coworkers, they would likely tell you that control isn’t something I part with easily. Now in the third trimester, I’ve learned quite a bit about giving up control. The pregnancy hormones alone, which seem to have ramped up in the last few weeks, are a not-so-subtle reminder that, try as I might, I can’t control everything. I am an imperfect human being who is very much in need of God’s mercy and grace.

I have also found myself relying on my husband more (and not just for his forgiveness when I’m crying uncontrollably over something any rational human being would consider silly or insignificant). Something as simple as holding onto his arm while trekking through an icy, snow-covered parking lot is a reminder that, while certainly I could brave the journey on my own, allowing myself to receive the love of others is a much better way to move through life.

All of these experiences—trusting that God is at work in the growth and development of my baby even when I can’t see it, learning to make sacrifices for the care of another human, and living into the reality that I am in need of the love and mercy of God and the community around me—are preparing me to love in a deeper, more profound way. I do not yet know what motherhood will be like after this squirmy little baby is born, but I am grateful for the ways my body is preparing me to love my family and my God more fully, and to receive their love in return.