With Woman: Seeing God as Midwife in the Wilderness of Birth | MOYOCK, NC
- sydneyhagan818
- Jun 17
- 10 min read
Updated: Jun 28
There is Power in a Name
When I was pregnant, my happy place was a nice, hot shower. It settled my nausea, it calmed me on particularly emotional days, it eased my pelvic pain and prodromal labor, and it was exactly where I wanted to be when I needed to relax at the end of the day. One of my quiet rituals during this time alone was writing my babies names in the fogged up shower door. As the hot water ran and the room filled with steam, I would trace those letters—over and over as they would disappear in the rising steam. It brought me joy to see the names of my babies. It settled me. It was a way I connected with the unseen life growing inside me, a way to speak love into the womb and cherish the personhood already forming.
Months later, in a season of personal heartache, I found myself again in a steam-filled shower on Father's Day. The heaviness in my chest needed somewhere to go. I thought back to those times I found peace and joy in writing in the steamed glass. I pressed my finger to the glass and began writing again—but this time, I wrote the names of God, our Father.
"El Roi. Emmanuel. Abba. YahWeh. Lord. King. Jesus. Father."
One by one, the names covered the fogged glass like a breath made visible. As each one began to fade, I traced a new one in its place.
"Holy Spirit. Jehovah-Jireh. Savior. Refuge. Shepherd. Midwife."
And in that simple, sacred moment, peace came flooding in. Because naming God wasn't just a theological standpoint—it was an intimacy of trust and surrender. It was handing over the authority to Him in my mortal weakness.
That day, I remembered something I had known in the quiet of pregnancy and birth; something I had forgotten postpartum: names carry power. They are more than words. They are connection. To name someone is to call on their character. To name someone is how we reach for presence when its meaning is not yet tangible. To name someone is to draw near to them—to acknowledge their being, their nature, their place in your life and in your story. In this act we claim relationship. And in both creating life and in faith, naming is a sacred act. It is how we make sense of what is unseen. Just as I had written my child's name as a tender act of love and connection, I began writing the names of God as a way to remember who He has always been. As a way to honor Him. It wasn't to remind Him—but to remind me. To anchor my heart in His goodness, His nearness, His care, His authority.
"Those who know Your name trust in You, for You, Lord, have never forsaken those who seek You." —Psalm 9:10
And in that sacred moment of peace, as the names faded and were rewritten, I felt His presence settle in again—like a midwife's hand on my cheek redirecting my focus, pointing my face back towards Him. Steady. Faithful. Here.
That moment brought to mind another woman who named God in the midst of her own wilderness. Abandoned, pregnant, and alone, she met the Lord in a desolate place. And there, in the midst of suffering, she gave Him a name: El Roi—the God who sees me. Genesis 16:13
Hagar in the Wilderness
Hagar was an oppressed, pregnant woman who encountered God in the wilderness and became the first (and only) in the Bible to name Him. I want to go on a short journey through her story and look at the meaning behind names like El-Roi, Emmanuel, and Midwife. In doing so, you may begin to see birth not only as a physiologic event, but as a place of divine encounter with the Holy Spirit. May this serve as a reminder for every woman entrusted with the sacred honor of bringing forth life in partnership with God, that He is not far off. He is with you. He sees you. He stays with you, and He labors alongside you.
Long before sterile halls and latex gloves, before fetal monitors and bright white lights, there was a woman in the wilderness—pregnant, abandoned, oppressed. She ran with pain in her womb and fear in her chest. But in the stillness of the wilderness, an Angel of God met her in her despair. Not with shame, not with silence, but with a promise. And she—a slave, a survivor—became the only person in Scripture to name God.
Hagar ("The Immigrant"), is a marginalized and mistreated servant to Abram and Sarai. Her story is a poignant one of suffering and abuse, but also one of divine encounter. As an Egyptian slave to Sarai and forced concubine to Abram, she faced oppression and many hardships. After a series of abuse and a roller coaster of power struggle between Sarai and Hagar (see The Bible Project Session 14 & 15 for further study in her story), Hagar then flees into the wilderness where she encounters a messenger of the Lord, who provides comfort and a promise for her future if she just perseveres under Sarai's oppression a little while longer. In response, Hagar named God “El-Roi,” meaning “the God who sees me,” marking her as the only person in the Bible to assign a name to God. In doing so, she was acknowledging God’s presence and authority in her life. And in His seeing her, Hagar found herself held.
She didn't learn this name from a priest or a scroll. She gave it to Him herself, because she had encountered His kindness in her most vulnerable moment. And just like that, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob became the God of a runaway servant girl. Naming Him became a way of claiming relationship. A way of marking that holy ground. A way of saying, "I have seen the One who sees me."
In birth, we often name the people we trust to hold space for us—midwives, doulas, sisters, friends. We speak their names as we surrender, breathe, and lean on them for strength. But what if, like Hagar, we gave that name to God? What if we named God as Midwife—not just in theory, but in truth and in trust?
When we name God as midwife we proclaim a sacred truth: He who formed us in the womb is He who guides us through every surge, through every holy threshold of life and of death, every holy wilderness that is birth.
Diving Deeper
In both ancient and modern contexts, naming holds profound significance. A name gives us meaning. It defines a relationship (wife, sister, mother, friend), a quality (such as naming a person Bella, meaning beautiful), a sense of self or importance (obtaining letters such as CNM or MD to go behind your given name). In some instances, it defines to others who you are—whether it be a true assessment or not (disabled, rich, veteran, etc). It also often either obtains or surrenders authority and honor (slave, queen, officer, child, etc). It is more than just a title. In a medical setting, specifically in birth, when we refer to our caregivers by name—"Doctor/OB," "Nurse," Midwife"—we are not just identifying them, we are acknowledging their expertise and authority and entrusting them with our care. Naming them affirms their role. It signals deference to their expertise. It acknowledges, whether we are aware of it or not, that we are placing our bodies, our babies, and our birth, entirely in their hands.
In naming God "Midwife," we honor His authority in recognition, relationship, and reverence.
To name Him is to know Him. To see Him who sees us. It is to draw near to Him. To define our relationship with Him. To give Him back the authority that the world so often tries to hand to others. To name God as midwife is to say: "You are not only my Creator, you are my Keeper. You are not only Sovereign, You are near. All-encompassing. You are my guide through this holy labor. I give You authority over this birth. I place it all in Your hands."
Midwife: "With Woman"
Midwife means “with woman.” Not above women. Not under women. But with women. She holds space for her. She cares for her. She witnesses her. She walks alongside her in gentle guidance. It is presence; it is posture; it is whispered prayers and steady hands; kneeling low on labor’s sacred ground as she holds her through it all. It is no small thing to be with woman as she brings forth life in partnership with Him who was with Hagar in the wilderness, with Mary in the stable, and with you, wherever you are in your journey.
Midwife, originating from Middle English,
“Mid,” meaning “with”
“Wife,” meaning “woman”
Midwifery emphasized the dynamic of woman's presence and support during childbirth. This role is not inherently clinical, but rather a deeply relational, embodying companionship full of guidance, expertise, trust, and advocacy during one of life’s most vulnerable moments.
Emmanuel: "God With Us"
Emmanuel: from the Hebrew “Immanu’el,” translating to “God with us.”
“Immanu” meaning “with us”
“El” meaning “God”
The name echoes in the womb of prophecy (Isaiah 7:14) and cries out again from the manger (Matthew 1:23). And what is birth if not holy ground for “God with us”? He was not only born into the world, but He remains in it—laboring with those in pain and toil, groaning with creation, holding onto and sheltering those who bleed, delivering those who call.
"Emmanuel" expresses God’s intimate presence with humanity during times of joy and celebration, as well as times of trial and suffering.
Embracing the Divine Companion
Drawing parallels between the roles of a midwife and the divine, we can view God as the ultimate “midwife”—present with us in our most challenging and transformative experiences. Just as a midwife supports and guides a woman through childbirth, God accompanies us through our spiritual and emotional labors. All of them. So why would birth be any different? In fact, wouldn't it be even more so since we get to partner closely with Him in the holy work of creating and bringing forth life? By naming God as our midwife, we acknowledge His authority and active participation in our lives, especially during such times of holy transformation.
In many birth settings, naming a provider—be it an OB, midwife, or birthkeeper—comes with a sense of dependence and reverence. We trust them with our bodies, our babies, our birth outcomes. Their presence becomes central to the unfolding of birth. But birth was never meant to be built on credentials—it was designed to be an act of covenant, of faith, of sacred honor and surrender.
God is our Ultimate Provider. The Great Physician. He is El-Roi — who sees us. He is Emmanuel — who is with us and stays with us. Why in birth do we so often forget this truth? When we name God as Midwife, we return what we too often give away—the authority, the trust, the surrender. Not to systems, not to strangers in white coats, but to the One who formed us in the womb and does not flee when those powerful surges come. So, He is Midwife — who births with us. When we name God as the one overseeing our birth space, this mental shift reshapes everything.
He does not abandon us.
He does not numb us.
He holds our hand and labors alongside us.
He whispers courage and casts out fear and doubt.
The atmosphere becomes holy, not clinical. The fear fades and the trust and confidence rises. The pressure to perform dissolves into presence. We no longer birth alone or unsupported, or in fight or flight—not because we have the perfect team, but because we have the Perfect Shepherd, the Divine Deliverer, the Holy Midwife.
In recognizing God as both “El-Roi” and “Emmanuel,” we affirm His dual role as the one who sees us and the one who is with us. This understanding offers profound comfort, assuring us that we are neither unseen nor alone in our struggles. By entrusting God with the title of our midwife, we invite Him into the intimate spaces of our lives, granting Him authority and acknowledging His unwavering presence. Naming Him is not just a theological reflection. It is an act of invitation. A declaration of trust. A way of saying: You may guide my body, my baby, and my breath. I surrender to You—not just in spirit, but in this holy labor.
To the woman in labor—
in flesh or in faith,
in motherhood or in ministry,
in grief or in glory—
Know this: You are seen. You are not alone. God is with you.
He knows how to Midwife, for He was the first and ultimate Midwife.
A Closing Prayer
"God, You are the One who formed our inward parts, who knit our babies together in the womb. You are the One who sees, the One who stays, the One who shelters us in the storm. We name You Midwife—not because You need the title, but because our hearts need the truth. You are gentle with us in our surrender, faithful in our fears, and strong in our weakness. In our birth spaces and in our hearts, be near to us. Guide every breath, every push, every pause. Let us feel You in the waiting, and meet You in the Holy Threshold of Life. We give You back the authority—not only over our births, but in our wilderness of motherhood. Amen."
A Final Note:
If this reflection has stirred something in you and if you feel led to invite God into your birth space and name Him Midwife, I've created a set of 40 Christ-centered birth affirmations just for mothers like you. Each one is paired with scripture to speak truth, strength, and peace over your labor and birth.
You can download the full set as a ready-to-print PDF or choose the editable Canva template if you'd like to personalize the cards with your own touch, or mix and match your affirmations with different scriptures.
Comments