Ryanne Molinari

I am going to say something very unpopular as a married Christian woman: I am not really a baby person. I believe that children are a gift from the Lord and that human life is valuable and worth protecting from its very beginning. I genuinely enjoy children; I just have never shared the bubbling-over baby-fever of so many of my friends. Baby dolls creeped me out even as a little girl. When I was a teenager, I would only babysit for potty-trained kids who could string together enough words to let me know what they wanted. I volunteered in the church nursery one time and one time only.

But now I’m pregnant with my first child. (Surprise!) In about six months, I won’t have the option of not being a “baby person” because I will be caring for, well, a baby person. I will welcome, love, and care for my child. I will raise him or her in the grace and truth of the Lord. But in the meantime, I find that I am still not big on babies or pregnancy. I asked my mom to curate my registry because I’m also not big on shopping, and I have preemptively told my friends that they are not under any circumstances to throw me a baby shower.

A Missed Opportunity

Throughout the past few years, I’ve been thinking about how we treat expectant mothers in the church. There are many compassionate resources for women and couples facing infertility—for those who want but cannot have children. There is also an ever-growing list of Christian books that celebrate parenthood. However, I don’t know of any resources to counsel women who struggle with ambivalence toward pregnancy and babies but who are stepping into motherhood as an act of faith. I also do not know of any resources to help churches care for such women.

I wrote a paper on this lack of literature last year. In it, I explained that the pain of childbearing described in Genesis 3:16 extends beyond labor pains to include the distress of women before, during, and after pregnancy. We need to be sensitive to the fact that, for many women, the pain of childbearing is not primarily physical but mental and emotional. We also need to be aware that this pain may be compounded with the pain of being misunderstood by those around them.

All that said, I want to humbly offer a few suggestions to help you deal gently with expectant mothers who are still processing their feelings, who are sorting through mixed feelings, or who are struggling through negative feelings about pregnancy and parenthood.

1. Please do not pressure her into telling you about her pregnancy.

My church has been remarkably respectful of my privacy. Very rarely have I had people ask me when I was going to have children, though it has happened. Usually I respond by saying (truthfully) that it all depends on the Lord’s timing, but I know from experience that such comments can inflict unintended injury.

The reality is, you simply do not know someone else’s situation. You might ask a woman when she is going to have kids without realizing that she has been crying over negative pregnancy tests for months—maybe years. She might have had a miscarriage not long ago and your question is tearing at wounds not yet healed. She might be in the early stages of pregnancy but not ready to tell anyone.

This last scenario happened to me. Shortly after finding out that I was expecting, someone asked me more or less directly whether I was pregnant. I was not ready to share, but did not want to lie. I immediately regretted my decision. I felt like I’d been coerced into sharing something precious and private before I had fully processed it. Please don’t do this to the women in your life, even if you are friends. Please let them tell you when they are ready, whether that’s right away or months down the road.

2. Please do not force her to have a baby shower.

When I was little, I stopped having birthday parties because I couldn’t bear the attention. After my friends departed, I would cry in my room from overstimulation. I wept after my wedding for the same reason. I was happy to be married, but managing 100 family members and friends was too emotionally taxing.

Anyone who knows me well knows that the things I care about the most, I tend to hold the closest—and the quietest. Often, rather than talking openly, I prefer to treasure and ponder such things in my heart like Mary the mother of Jesus (Luke 2:19). But the problem with being pregnant in the church—especially as a pastor’s wife—is that I cannot keep this part of my life private, no matter how hard I try. That is why I do not want a baby shower. People do not believe me the first time I tell them, but I mean it. I could not bear the attention, especially surrounding something so intimate.

If a woman in your church is expecting and you want to bless her, ask her directly whether she would like a baby shower or not. If she says no, take her at her word. Also, do not—I repeat—do not, attempt to surprise her with a shower. As an introvert and planner, I cannot imagine anything worse than a surprise baby shower. My heart sped up a little just thinking about it. Celebrating expectant mothers is a good thing, but if a woman tells you that a baby shower would leave her more haggard than happy, please honor her “no.”

3. Please be careful about commenting on her body.

I’ve written previously about my history with body image issues, and I’ve read enough statistics to know that I am not unique. If you can find a woman who does not struggle with body image, you might want to make sure she isn’t a robot. We all struggle, and pregnancy has proven my ultimate challenge.

As a Christian, I have always believed that my body is not my own; it belongs to my Maker and Savior and is to be used as his instrument. But pregnancy is forcing me to reckon with the brutal reality of this. What I eat or avoid is controlled by a person I’ve never met. (Weirdly, this tiny chef loves vegetable and bean soup.) My mile times have decreased by at least two minutes. I can’t watch TV without falling asleep. My clothes don’t fit as well as they used to, which is doubly aggravating because, if you remember, I do not like shopping!

If a woman you know is expecting, please be careful when commenting on her body. “You’re getting so big!” is not going to land well, even if her size signifies a healthy, growing baby. It is probably best to not comment on her physicality at all unless you are her doctor or close friend. Please be sensitive. It’s tough being a woman in an Instagram era.

4. Please feel free to talk about other things.

One of my biggest concerns is that, now that people know I’m expecting, that’s all they will talk to me about. It will become, in their eyes, my entire personality. I get it: my baby will have to be, second to my husband, the most important person in my life. But he or she will not be the only person or passion in my life.

Please don’t assume that pregnancy and babies are all expectant mothers want to talk about. Ask how she’s doing, but also ask what she’s reading and listening to. Talk about work, hobbies, and school. Tell her what’s going on in your life. Joke and laugh as usual. Let her bring up pregnancy and babies if she feels comfortable, but please don’t make this your only point of conversation.

When I first heard my baby’s heartbeat, I was shocked at how excited I felt. This little person (who had been there all along) suddenly felt real, and I couldn’t resist calling one of my best friends. We talked all things cravings and aversions, worries and hopes. We exchanged obstetric information with transparency and interest. This is the sort of conversation I needed to have with a trusted friend after a momentous appointment. But it is not the type of conversation I want to have with everyone, all the time.

I am reminded of Mr. Knightley in Jane Austen’s Emma. His stoic front baffles the emotive and high-spirited Emma. In the end, he explains:

“If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more.”

Every time I reread Emma, I underline this quote. It is exactly how I feel and have always felt about the most intimate parts of my life. I do not post much about my husband on Instagram, not because I don’t love him but because I love him too much to turn him into “content.” In the same way, I want to keep much of my pregnancy private. I want to journal about it to my heart’s content and then talk about other things at church on Sunday or at work throughout the week.

Please respect that some expectant mothers will want to verbally process their experience, while others will want to keep it more private. Feel free to serve such women by carrying on your ordinary conversations.

5. Please do not compare your experience to hers.

Having children is one of the most personal and miraculous parts of human life—which also means it is one of the most emotionally-charged. If your experience with pregnancy and parenthood differs from a woman you know, please do your best to avoid unhealthy projection or comparison.

You might have been elated when you found you were expecting, but a friend of yours is primarily terrified. Comfort her and walk alongside her without making her feel worse for not immediately celebrating. You might be grieving another negative test while your friend is struggling to come to terms with a positive one. This will be hard, but strive to support one another with patience and understanding—and without envy.

Finally, when sharing your experiences, please do not tell your struggling friend about your traumatic birth story unless she specifically asks. Everyone I talk to agrees that this is unhelpful, so can we as women unanimously agree to keep our horror stories to ourselves unless asked? Let’s take care not to heap unsolicited anxiety onto women who are already anxious.

Conclusion

The last few months have made me realize that there are more women like me out there than I realized: While we are thankful to be able to have children, we struggle with the uncomfortable change and unwanted attention that come with pregnancy. I hope that, as Christians, we can learn to care for such women with compassion. I am continually grateful to the friends and family members who have honored my desire for privacy and normalcy as I navigate this sweet yet stressful season.

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