“I’m Hannah’s husband…” I said to the midwife wearing all white, which grew into the color of her long and wise head of hair.

“I know who you are…come in!” she said in an excited whisper.

I walk past a beautiful old black and gold stove that has cooked hot meals for many exhausted Mommas after giving birth to their sweet little ones. I am nervous and intimidated by these midwives – not so sure why, only because I think they come from the Earth and not a womb. I come to see them as mystics. I suppose it is all the same and I’m learning to see it that way.

I thank one of the midwives for doing such a great job as she points to my sister-in-law, Leah, and says, “It was her…she did everything.”

My wife, Hannah, was her sister’s doula and no doubt, all pieces of this birthing process were so equally important. Bryan, Momma T and the midwives were welcoming in a son, a grandchild and my newest nephew, Wellington Ray. I was simply in awe that a birth could be such an intimate and spiritual moment.

I always seem to contemplate on life and how two of the most influential women in my time on this earth are doulas of the beginning and the end of our journeys. I get the humbling opportunity to listen to these stories – stories of joy, struggle and mourning. I say this as the words joy, struggle and mourning can account for all areas of life.

I sometimes refrain from using the term, “death doula”, only because it sounds quite grim, but it should not be so. It is what it is and those who have experienced hospice care know the benefits of those final moments of peace and being surrounded by those things that comfort you. My mom is good at what she does. She has held many hands and has comforted the lives of the Beloved.

We are often kept away from these moments that claim our existence. How often do we get to be a part of an intimate birth or hold the hand of a person who is taking their last breaths?

It surely shakes our bones. It turns our thoughts back to mortality and flesh and time.

As I saw baby Welly for the first time, one thought among many was, “Wow…this guy has no cholesterol…” And to my amusement, it was real for me to see all things new again — new heart, lungs, fingers and toes. [And precious little bits they are at that…]

Many of us come into this world wrinkly and bald – and many of us leave the same way.  Needy, tired and always learning.

To the women in my life – always growing into gentle forces of nature. Sweet mommas, nurturing wives and mystics who bring life to our world; and for those who walk people through the end of their journey…

Thank you…

thank you…for giving us life and helping us to further understand its beauty.