From Relic to Ritual

Inviting the Holy Spirit into Labor

It’s my due date week—or, rather, my estimated date, because that’s truly all it is. This arrival can only be chosen by the small life growing within me. All week, friends, family, and this beautiful community have surrounded me, checking in, asking that universal question: “How are you feeling?!”

My response? I am breathing. I say this with intention, truly breathing, slow and mindful. I am moving. Each stretch holds a quiet purpose, each gesture aligned with gentle strength. I am setting aside every hint of labor, letting each wave pass until one finally gathers me whole. I am excited to look into my son’s eyes, yet almost acting as if his arrival is not so near. I’ve planned small joys for the weekend and even a massage for next week. Plans can be rescheduled, but this sense of looking forward feels like an anchor. And I have my “Labor Activities” to-do list, filled with small tasks to keep me focused, grounding my excitement when early labor truly begins like cleaning out my cupboards, putting spices into cute labeled glass jars, and baking cookies.

This past month has taught me the language of my body—strengthened it, prepared it for the marathon ahead. And yet, I realized there was something I hadn’t included in my birth plan: a place for divinity. This revelation came unexpectedly at mass, in Our Lady of Perpetual Help, when the priest called all pregnant women to the altar for a blessing. During this blessing, he held up a relic—a bone of St. Gerard Majella, the very patron of childbirth and labor, who, like me, was 29 when he died in 1755. Relics are sacred remnants, preserved pieces of history that link us to past devotion, strength, and even miracles. This first-class relic, a piece of St. Gerard himself, became a vessel of prayer and protection for those of us standing at the threshold of motherhood.

The story of St. Gerard came to me like a soft roar. They say he once dropped his handkerchief while visiting a family home, and a young girl ran to return it. He insisted she keep it, telling her simply, “You may need it someday.” Years later, that girl, now a mother-to-be, endured agonizing labor. Remembering his words, she grasped his handkerchief, and her pain subsided. Her child was born healthy, and soon women everywhere were invoking his name, finding comfort in his legacy as a patron of safe childbirth.

This blessing at the altar met me with a depth I hadn’t anticipated, a reminder that my birth can be sacred, even holy. We speak so often of birth affirmations, of hypnobirthing, but what about the power of a simple prayer? What about the strength of calling on ancient wisdom, of inviting support from beyond? My body is powerful, yes, and I am surrounded by the love and care of my husband, my midwife, my doula. But I feel called, now more than ever, to invite the Holy Spirit into this space with me. I want the presence of the relic to accompany me during my birthing rituals, so much so that I’ve created sticky notes with words for my husband to whisper, bringing me back to that sacred moment.This blessing from an ancient relic came in my due date week for a reason. And I am holding on to that grace, welcoming it in ways I hadn’t considered before.