Why do so many women—especially midwives—struggle with imposter syndrome?
First, let’s define it. To begin, imposter syndrome is the nagging sense that you are not enough. Let’s be honest here. You are not enough. You were never intended to be “enough”, that is in fact, the very point of the Gospel; no one is enough. So let’s just agree with that truth, because it is truth, you and I are not enough. In this heavy work we need each other and we need the One who designed us. —Now let’s turn our attention to the part that is the lie, because a good lie always comes with just enough truth to catch our soul’s attention.
So, how else does imposter syndrome show up? What is the part we can dispute? Imposter syndrome shows itself as self-doubt, perfectionism, unrealistic standards, fear of exposure, and the haunting thought: “I’m a fraud— a complete deception.” Isn’t it fascinating that the word at the center of this struggle is deception? The whisper behind imposter syndrome is this: “You are deceiving yourself and others. You are not who you say you are.”
And here is the irony—those of us who are called to tell the truth about birth, to point women back to God’s good design are inwardly and outwardly accused of being deceptive. The accuser, the father of lies, projects his own nature onto us. He hisses that we are imposters while it is he who has deceived generations about birth, about women, about our food systems and healthcare systems —about life itself. Imposter syndrome therefore is a projection. And here is the important part. We believe him and begin to co-create with him—we co-create doubt and insecurity within ourselves by claiming this identity of being an imposter and walking out in the fear and doubt he has projected onto us, but we are called to be a reflection. Projection can occur in darkness, but reflection can never occur in darkness, reflection only occurs with Light.
We know we are not meant to project insecurity, doubt, or fear—but instead to reflect love, hope, and joy. We are called to mirror the One who not only created us, but also designed birth itself. On our own, we may feel lacking, but when we reflect the One who is always enough, everything shifts. This is possible because of who God is and what He values. Birth matters deeply to God. His design is intricate, intentional, and flawless, and when allowed to unfold unhindered, it always draws us back to Him. When we point women to the design of birth, we are ultimately pointing them back to their Creator.
Birth reveals and reflects God’s heart in ways words can hardly capture:
- Surrender – the yielding of control, an expression of faith and trust.
- Co-creation – partnering with God in the bringing forth of life.
- Unconditional love – pouring out our life for the sake of another.
- Travail –a reflection of the laboring heart of God for His people.
- Sacrifice – pain endured for joy set before.
- Perseverance – pressing through the valley to reach the promise.
- Victory – the cry of life breaking through.
- Compassion – the deep presence of God in pain and suffering.
- Mother-Heart – tender comforter, gentle nurturer, meeting our deepest longings—love responding to love.
Birth is a living story of the Gospel:
- A family co-laboring in birth together with a midwife reflects our partnership with God and others.
- Pain and suffering are not the end—God transforms them into joy.
- Strength is revealed in weakness.
- His presence in found in travail and redemption is found through surrender.
Every birth is a threshold moment—a thin place between heaven and earth, womb and world, hiddenness and revelation, and while the veil is thin our opportunity is thick.
Birth strips us bare, not just women, but midwives too. No mask remains. And in that rawness, we are known by God. Just as creation itself groans for redemption, so too every woman in labor groans for deliverance, and every midwife who sits beside her intercedes for grace in the moment. I have said before, and reiterate here, every groan of every woman on the birth stool is a prayer God intends to answer, so too He hears the cry of the midwife.
So then, if birth reflects the Kingdom of Light, then it makes sense that the enemy of Light would counterfeit it with a kingdom of darkness and fear. The medical system—when applied to normal birth—often mirrors the spirit of darkness and fear— the opposite of light and love:
- Man and medicine are elevated as savior.
- The system itself becomes god.
- Fear saturates the environment.
- Mothers are coerced, manipulated, and silenced.
- The work of labor is removed from the mother and increased for the baby through numbness and disconnection.
- Mothers are disconnected from their bodies, their hormones, their instincts.
- She is numbed to the feeling of labor, and cannot feel or connect to what she is giving birth to.
- Her own intuition is systematically intimidated, shut down and silenced.
- Babies are severed from mothers—cord cut too soon, bonding disrupted.
How then does the system instill fear in us? Fear in birth is not an accident—it is carefully cultivated. The medical system, as it functions in most normal birth scenarios, disciples women (and midwives) into fear through repetition, language, and intimidation.
- Fear of death is the cornerstone. We are told: “If you try for a VBAC, you could die.” “If you birth at home, your baby could die.” The message is clear: without the system, you are unsafe.
- Fear that our babies won’t survive without intervention. Every shot, test, or intervention is framed as a life-or-death decision. Refuse, and you are branded negligent or reckless. Mothers are left believing their bodies are inherently broken, incapable without medical rescue.
- The spirit of intimidation is thick in the room. This is not just about protocols, it is spiritual. Whether you believe in the Holy Spirit, or some other spirit there is very little room if any to denying that birth in itself is a spiritual event and may spirits invade the space to make it their own territory. When providers loom over mothers—or midwives—with “authority,” it’s meant to silence. Imposter syndrome creeps in here too: “Who am I to speak up? Who am I to resist?” If the enemy cannot deceive us, he will try to intimidate us into silence.
- Everything is an emergency. Normal variations are labeled as crisis. Birth is treated as a medical event, not a normal life passage. There is no room to trust, no time to breathe, we are rushed…and we know that rushed is rarely of God.
- Trust is shifted, taken from the mother, from the gentle hands of midwives and given to machines. Machines are trusted more than wisdom, more than the intricate language of the female body, more than hormones or instinct. Technology becomes savior, while the mother’s own knowledge of her body is dismissed and the time tested wisdom and understanding ignored and ridiculed.
- Stories of worst-case scenarios are elevated. Every teaching moment, every prenatal counseling, every media portrayal focuses on what could go wrong. But the Word calls us to renew our minds: “Whatever is true, noble, right, pure, lovely—think on these things.” Yet in the system, the narrative is disaster, not design.
- Disempowerment is the underlying current. Women are told they are powerless, their bodies incompetent. This is a whispered lie from the enemy of our souls, who has always tried to strip women of their authority in creation and in birth.
- Privacy and dignity are stripped away and removed. Women are exposed physically and spiritually, controlled, often mocked or ignored in their most vulnerable state.
- Control replaces surrender. The hospital system seeks to control, manage and dominate what God designed to flow in strength and surrender.
The narrative is consistent—birth is terrifying, women are fragile, doctors are saviors, and midwives are imposters. Language enforces this false gospel: “failure to progress,” “incompetent cervix,” “high risk, “just in case”, “you wouldn’t want your baby to die, would you”. These words disempower women and instill fear, not faith, death, not life, dread not hope. The media then amplifies it with horror stories and worst-case scenarios, discipling us into terror instead of trust and traumatized mothers know no better than to process their own terror with other, thus perpetuating the darkness.
But we must recognize this for what it is: a false gospel. It is not neutral. It is fear-driven, and fear is the opposite of love. Just as imposter syndrome whispers that you are a fraud, the hospital system whispers that birth itself is broken. Both are lies.
—Fear, at its root, is the anticipation of evil. But love is the anticipation of good—for the Beloved.
Ephesians 6 tells us there is an epic war with unseen powers all around us and in this upside down kingdom midwives may look like the least, the smallest servants, but make no mistake—we are on the frontlines and can wield a heavy blow. Every birth attended in love and faith is an act of defiance against the kingdom of darkness.
No wonder the accuser whispers that we are imposters. He wants to steal our confidence, kill our joy, and destroy our trust. He wants us to believe we are imposters. He wants us to quit. If he can convince us to tell ourselves daily that we are frauds and imposters then we do his work for him. We destroy ourselves and lose our authority.
But you must decide: which voice will you listen to? The voice that accuses, condemns and tears down—or the voice that gently whispers and calls us by name?
Take a moment right now. Be still. Close your eyes if you can. Draw in a deep, slow breath, the breath of life that was gifted to you this morning.
Let it fill you—and then release it.
Now think back to yesterday or even earlier today. What words have you spoken over yourself? Maybe they were said silently in your heart, maybe whispered out loud or maybe even spoken to you by someone else. Words like:
“How could I have been so stupid.”
“If ____ happened, maybe birth really doesn’t work, or maybe isn’t safe.”
“How could I have missed this? I don’t even know what I am doing”.
“I should have never tried to become a midwife, I’ll never be smart enough.”
Write down the words that are similar to what is above, but that have been specific to your story this week. What words have you heard. Sit with those words for a moment. Whose voice do they sound like? Do they echo the heart of God?
No. They are not his words.
They are the voice of the accuser, the one who comes only to sow doubt and fear and shame. The voice of God is altogether different. He speaks truth, peace, and identity. His voice may correct but it never condemns it convicts with love, it is gentle, encouraging, instructive and leads you into freedom.
Continue being still for a moment. Take another breath. Take two. Drop your shoulders. Sink into your chair. One more breath.
Now, listen for that quiet, gentle whisper. Let Him define you.
Renew your mind. Daily.
and know this..
You are not a fraud.
You are not an imposter.
You are not a deceiver.
You are a warrior, a truth barer.
Every birth you attend is warfare.
Every breath you breathe in the birth room is prayer.
Every baby you catch is an anointing—a laying on of hands.
This is our time. Our charge. Our ground to take.
Walk boldly into the birth room, in the knowledge of who you are and who you were created to be—chosen, equipped and anointed for this very work. You are not the imposter, you are the evidence of the One who is setting all things right. Every moment, every breath, every prayer has led you here and you do not need to pretend you belong—you are meant to be here, in this exact moment for this very purpose.