Across our beautiful island home, we celebrate the mothers and mother figures who birth, nurture, and care for Bermuda’s next generation. As we honour Mother's Day, I offer this devotional reflection – particularly meaningful for me, as I recently welcomed a new little life into the world.

Last year, I shared insights from my first pregnancy, focused on the wonder of abiding – how my baby abided in me, just as I abide in God. This year, however, my reflections have taken on a more sobering tone. While every pregnancy is different, this time I was more aware, more seasoned – and more spiritually stirred by what was ahead.

Throughout the pregnancy, I found myself repeatedly drawn to the scriptures where Jesus compares spiritual trials and the end times to labour pains. Consider:

“For many will come in my name, saying, ‘I am the Christ,’ and they will lead many astray. And you will hear of wars and rumours of wars. See that you are not alarmed, for this must take place, but the end is not yet. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom, and there will be famines and earthquakes in various places. 8 All these are but the beginning of the birth pains.” (Matthew 24:6–8, ESV)

“There will be earthquakes … famines. These are but the beginning of the birth pains.” (Mark 13:6–8, ESV)

“Truly, truly, I say to you, you will weep and lament, but the world will rejoice. You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy. When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world. So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.” (John 16:20–22, ESV)

Jesus uses birth not only to describe suffering, but to illustrate the hope and joy that follow. As I watched the world around me – political unrest, road fatalities, a rise in gun violence – I began to feel these scriptures in a new way. Like labour, we are in a season of intense pressure. And just like labour, this season is moving us towards something.

In my eighth month, I found myself praying, “Lord, I’m ready.” I was tired. I knew what was coming, and I was willing to go through it for the joy of holding my child. That moment sparked a spiritual realisation: as Christians, we must get to a place where we are no longer attached to this world.

We must be ready – ready to endure, ready to let go, ready to see Jesus face to face. Just as I wanted to be done with pregnancy, we should long for the day when this broken world is no more.

Another key moment came during labour. I was grateful to have my mother by my side as both my mum and doula. She helped me labour at home for over 20 hours before transitioning to the hospital. My birth plan was to go natural – no medication, no unnecessary intervention.

But upon arrival, every moment brought pressure to accept some form of medical assistance. Despite the staff’s good intentions, it felt like my plan was constantly being questioned. At one point, overwhelmed and nearing eight centimetres, I asked for the epidural – but it was too late. My mother reminded me I could do it. And I did. I tapped into a strength that I believe only God can provide.

I want to be clear: thank God for medical interventions. So many lives – babies and mothers alike – are saved because of them. Two truths can coexist: medical help is both necessary and sometimes overused. What stayed with me was not a critique of medicine, but a spiritual lesson.

Here’s what I learnt: there is a difference between people who respect your values and those who share them. Respect is valuable – but when you’re in the trenches, when you’re facing trial or temptation, it’s the people who share your faith who will speak life into you. Who will point you back to God. My mum did not just support my birth plan – she shared my belief in it. That made all the difference.

This Mother’s Day, I invite you to reflect. Are we ready for what’s ahead? Are we willing to endure, not just for the sake of enduring, but for the joy set before us? And who are the people walking beside us – do they respect our walk, or do they share it?

This pregnancy did not bring the same warm and fuzzy feelings as my first. But it brought wisdom, depth, and truth.

I hope these reflections encourage you to consider where we are in God’s timeline – and how we can be intentional about the people we walk with, the faith we hold, and the journey we’re all on together.

Blessings.