‘No man knoweth the hour’: The biblical case for ditching due dates

“When are you due?”  

In the case of our most recent child, my wife and I would answer, beaming: “St Paddy’s Day”.

The questioner might remark that was a good day to be born, or that the date is their mother’s birthday - or something along those lines. All-in-all, the conversation would confirm that humans feel that such date predictions are meaningful - and largely accurate.  

And yet, just five per cent of women give birth on the due date given to them by doctors. It does not even necessarily give a good ballpark: according to a 2015 review, about two-thirds will give birth within eleven days of their due date. The rest fall outside that fairly wide span.

Given how many factors can be at play when it comes to gestation, it makes sense. A recent study found pregnancy lengths could differ by over a month - and that doesn’t include babies born preterm. 

Perhaps a ‘due window’ might be a better term - it might help us to more fully enter into the eschatological mystery of childbirth

A definitive due day is also a relatively recent thing, too. The method of counting a week from a woman’s last menstrual period (the LMP) was the brainchild of a Dutch doctor in the mid-18th century and, until ultrasound arrived, was the best we had. But even ultrasound has a margin of error. Its predictions are based on the size of the foetus, which means big babies can sometimes be assumed to be older than they are, and smaller ones, younger.  

Coming to the end

But so what? The unknown is all part of the fun, isn’t it?

During my wife’s two pregnancies, the unreliability of due dates really got her down - and perhaps you can relate. They have promised a glimmering finish line - sweet relief from backache, heartburn and an inability to find a comfortable position to be in. When the expected delivery date rolled past - by a fortnight on each occasion - she felt inferior somehow.  “Why do I cling onto them?” she would ask, only half-jokingly, using words like ‘iron clad’ about her cervix. There was a feedback loop of anxiety which hardly helped speed things along. 

And perhaps it didn’t help us exercise patience, either. It helped for planning holidays, sure. But not for submitting to God’s timing.

A recurring theme in the New Testament is the unexpectedness of the eschaton - or “the end” - when Jesus returns to the earth to judge the living and the dead. We have to be ready, but we can never certainly know: “concerning that day and hour no one knows” except the Father, says Jesus (Matthew 24:36). Elsewhere in the Bible it is, fittingly, compared directly to the arrival of a baby. The new creation will emerge from what Paul calls “the pains of childbirth” (Romans 8:22).  

Medical intervention in childbirth has risen dramatically over the past decade. It is now thought that a third of UK women are induced. In many cases, this is necessary, but some medical professionals believe all is not well with the increase in inductions. In the US, as many as 15 per cent of deliveries are voluntary inductions or caesarean sections occurring at 39 weeks - despite research showing that 40-week terms are vital for brain development. 

Giving up control

This is not about conflating doing things au naturale with God’s will. But it is about the human desire for control – and where that causes problems. The instinct to make childbirth manageable finds its most controversial expression in surrogacy, cases of which are on the rise, despite our ethical debates struggling to catch up. We are seeing heartbreaking cases of women from lower-income backgrounds having their wombs ‘rented’ by affluent couples who have not considered whether they can offer the child an appropriate environment. In my own Catholic tradition, the desire for control is seen as something which infects our whole attitude to babies, from conception to birth. 

During our two pregnancies, the unreliability of due dates have really gotten my wife down

But we might start with due dates. Perhaps a ‘due window’ might be a better term - it might help us recognise the uncertainty of the process; to more fully enter into the eschatological mystery of childbirth.

I am aware of how a man advising women that they need to be more patient might sound in this situation. When my wife was pregnant, she suddenly found one of Jesus’ sayings quite irritating. In John 6:21, Jesus compares the sadness the disciples will feel about his crucifixion to a labour: “She has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish”. Fine for you to say, she thought. You didn’t have to give birth! 

Yet, as my wife would later say, Jesus is right. Joy really does come in the morning. And he proved it by putting it to the test himself. If Western society were to reverse current trends by opening ourselves up to more uncertainty, there would be a call on both women and men to model something patient, loving, hopeful and sacrificial. We’d have to live joyfully in the tension together.

“When are you due?” someone might ask. “No man knoweth the hour” might be the reply.