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Victoria Wilson Says Birthing Babies is All About Jesus

praise jesus

My wife and I have six children, ages 23, 24, 27, 32, 35, and 37. Polly had all of the children vaginally, without epidurals. Over the years, I have stood in the background and watched as Polly traded birthing war stories with other mothers. Mothers love to talk about length of labor, epidurals, methods of birth, breast feeding vs. bottle, cloth vs. disposable, and various other things that only those who have been to war can talk about. For the record, Polly breastfed and used cloth diapers for all our children. Do these stories make her some sort of Super Mom? Hell yes, they do. Due to living in poverty — thanks Jesus — Polly had to do without. Sure, she would have loved to use Pampers, but we couldn’t afford them. Sure, there were times bottle feeding would have given Polly a break, but we couldn’t afford formula. Yes, it would have been nice for Polly to have been pampered at an upscale obstetrician’s office, but we couldn’t afford it. Instead, Polly went to the local state-funded clinic for care — often waiting hours to see her doctor. If awards were given for Suffering for Jesus, Polly would surely receive the highest honor. To this day I applaud her willingness to soldier on, while at the same time hanging my head in shame, knowing that my dear wife deserved far better.

In a July 6, 2016 The Gospel Coalition article titled, Moms, Jesus is the Hero of Your Birth Story, Victoria Wilson rebuked women for the stories they tell one another about the births of their children. You see, according to Wilson, Jesus should get all the praise, honor, and glory. Suggesting that women had anything to do with their babies births is pride. Wilson wrote:

During my first pregnancy, I drank the birth junkie Kool-Aid poured out by my foremothers. I practiced relaxation techniques and did my Kegel exercises. I read childbirth books and watched an inordinate number of water births. The contractions came, and I never asked for pain medications. I had a natural birth. And I was proud of it. In fact, I recall asking my husband if he made sure our family knew that I did it naturally.

After my “successful” natural birth, I felt a real sense that I had earned my stripes. Friends began to ask me how I had achieved this task, and I reveled in answering their questions. My husband quietly observed this trend for months. He saw my desire to walk alongside new mothers and eventually suggested I become trained as a birth doula.

But my husband, being a godly man, also notice an unsavory characteristic developing: pride.

How did such pride exhibit itself? I would judge the birth experiences of other women. I might have congratulated the new mom, but I was truly convinced that I had the better accomplishment.

My professional circles [Wilson is a doula] place great emphasis on the “innate strength” and “goddess-like beauty” of a woman’s body. It is tempting to get caught up in their excitement. But worshiping creation rather than the Creator is sin. God pours out wrath on “all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men” who “exchanged the truth about God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (Rom. 1:18, 25). Why would we worship our own bodies when the God who made them demands exclusive praise?

When Wilson asked her husband if she could at least take a little bit of pride in her successful labor and delivery, her worship leader husband replied, “No, babe. No. You can’t abide the tiniest bit of sin.”

Wilson concluded her article with a call to repentance:

I pray you will examine your motives and consider how you have been telling your children’s birth stories. Have you written yourself in as the main character? Have you been robbing God of any glory? Have you missed opportunities to communicate the gospel?

Learning who God is shows us who we are not. God, not birthing women, is the Creator and giver of life. If you’ve been claiming responsibility and praise for giving life to your children, repent.

I have no doubt that many of the mothers who read this blog will find Wilson’s words to be, not only offensive, but outrageous. Wilson lives in a make-believe world where Jesus is given credit for everything. If women have an “easy” birth, praise Jesus! If women have a “hard” birth, praise Jesus! and remember pain in childbirth is due to original sin. No matter the scenario, in Victoria Wilson’s world all the praise and honor goes to Jesus — a single man who never had sex with a woman or watched his wife go through great suffering to bring another vile sinner into the world.

Here’s what I know: for the Gerencser family, all the praise, honor, and glory belong to a strong woman who endured suffering, pain, poverty, and neglect as she carried her children to term. This strong woman washed thousands of cloth diapers and was the primary caregiver for six children. Her busy pastor husband — the head of the home, as Jesus ordained — rarely helped with childcare. From the early morning hours to late into the night, this strong woman nursed her babies, never complaining about a lack of sleep. There was never a time someone named Jesus showed up to give this strong women a respite. Day in day out, for two decades, this strong women was a wonderful example of a mother who loved her children.

So what do you think of Wilson’s groveling before Jesus? Please share your thoughts in the comment section.


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    Nope. Or as my daughter would say (when cranky), no no no no no!!! “Jesus” didn’t push a baby out of my body, put up with my husband’s bad jokes during delivery, or tear in a “W” shape. When Jesus does those things, then he can get credit, not before.

    Polly on the other hand is incredible… I know I couldn’t do all that without going crazier than I already am! 🙂

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    Just another way to keep the wimminfolk down……….Jesus H Christ, yep, all praise to him /sarc. After 4 children – the last one at age 44, all I can say is, All PRAISE to the medical profession for epidurals!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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    Well, just another bald example of how poison Kool-aid affects the thinking brain.
    (I give all glory to Gawd for the above insight and praise his holy fame for helping me see that I have done nuthin’ am nuthin’ and unworthy to even enjoy a decent bowel movement unless he squeezes it out for me!)
    My mom had six too while a preacher’s slave for gawd, playing the piano at services when needed and being a registered nurse as well to bring some actual money to feed us while Jesus helped dear preacher dad stay good and poor, preaching. All praise to Jesus! Thank-you so so much! Mom deserved more thanks than she ever got but the point is to harm oneself and others not just roll in the joy of high belief.
    Oh my oh my, how religion poisons everything.

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    I really, really, really, really don’t get why white, conservative males think that their operating knowledge of the female reproductive system is far superior than that of say actual females!

    This is why seeing clowns like this dude and Republican Legislators talk about women’s health like they are “god like” in their knowledge defies common sense.

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    Karen the rock whisperer

    I’ve never been pregnant. That makes me all the more respectful of women who have endured pregnancy and delivered children. Nature has pushed the size and complexity of the human brain enough that people babies are HUGE relative to the birth canal, and yet are born incredibly helpless. It’s kind of amazing that births don’t have more complications than they do.

    I want to hop in the Doctor’s TARDIS and go back in time to chat up whoever came up with that original sin BS, and so conveniently blamed it on women, the members of society who were already treated like crap. Even in that science fiction universe, one can’t change the past, but at least I could give the guilty party a few whacks upside the head with my trusty cane.

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    J.D. Matthews

    The one time that my wife has given birth was to a breech baby, and thus it was a C-section. Oh, and that was in a small town hospital. In China. Sterile operating rooms? In her dreams. The window was open, and as a concession to her, she finally persuaded them to at least close the door so that she couldn’t see the operation going on in the adjacent room. After the fact, she was basically tied to the bed with a pain meds machine that someone had helpfully forgotten to install a battery into. Of fucking course she got pneumonia and nearly choked to death several times on phlegm that she couldn’t cough out because, y’know, her abdomen had a big rip in it and she didn’t want to pop a stitch.

    So basically Jesus can go fuck himself with a flaming cactus dildo. That woman of mine is the Super Badass Bitch (I have her permission to call her that) who can do things that make my testicles quiver in fear. Dying on a cross would be child’s play for her. She’d probably do that on a Monday morning and be home in time to give our beautiful healthy daughter her evening bath. And that beautiful healthy daughter will no doubt grow up to be tougher than any of the punk ass boys she plays with.

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