The Breath Before the Breath

— a Glimpse of Wonder entry™ (Part 7 of 9) —

A baby’s first breath is a moment we celebrate. Cameras flash. Applause erupts. Tears flow. But long before that air ever fills the lungs, the body is preparing—in ways we’re only beginning to understand.

Inside the womb, a baby does not breathe air. Oxygen arrives through the umbilical cord, carried in the mother’s blood, passed through the placenta. The lungs? For now, they’re closed for business. And yet, they are far from idle.

Around the 10th week of pregnancy, the lungs begin filling with fluid. Not amniotic fluid, but a special liquid produced by the baby itself—rich in proteins, growth factors, and hormones. This fluid expands the airways, shapes the alveoli (tiny air sacs), and keeps the lungs inflated. It’s like blowing up balloons gently over time so they’ll be ready for the big day.

Then come the breathing motions—yes, actual breaths. Even though no air enters, the baby practices. These movements are slow and irregular at first but grow more coordinated as time passes. They help develop the diaphragm and chest muscles and prepare the lungs to one day inflate. But they do more than that. These “practice breaths” stir amniotic fluid, signal readiness, and even impact brain development.

Still, the most remarkable preparation happens in the final weeks.

Just before birth, the lungs begin releasing a signal—a protein called surfactant protein A (SP-A). It doesn’t help the baby breathe yet. Instead, some research, particularly in animal studies, suggests it triggers something astonishing: labor. That’s right. When the baby’s lungs are mature enough, they may send a message to the mother’s body… “I’m ready.” The signal travels through the amniotic fluid, sparking inflammation in the uterus that leads to contractions.

In other words, the baby may announce its own arrival.

Surfactant itself is another miracle. It lines the alveoli, reducing surface tension so they don’t collapse when the baby exhales. Without it, the first breath would be nearly impossible. Preterm babies often struggle because their lungs haven’t produced enough surfactant yet. But in most full-term births, Jehovah has timed it perfectly: just enough, just in time.

What’s more, in the hours and days before labor, hormones begin absorbing the lung fluid. Some of it is swallowed. Some is pulled into the lymphatic system. The rest is squeezed out during birth, especially in vaginal deliveries. By the time the baby enters the world, the lungs are empty and primed—like a dry sponge, ready to soak in life’s first breath.

Ecclesiastes 11:5 reminds us: “Just as you do not know how the spirit operates in the bones of the baby in the womb of a pregnant woman, so you do not know the work of the true God.” And indeed, this silent choreography—the practice, the signaling, the transformation—unfolds entirely out of view.

The breath before the breath is unseen. But it is no less miraculous.

It is preparation without applause. A whisper before the roar.