In response to the birth of a child, the thing to say is often, “oh, how beautiful!”
In response to someone who is grieving or going through a transformative time, the tone shifts: “oh, that’s so hard.”
Birth and death (or a person, hope or relationship) feel like opposites, at completely different ends of the spectrum of human life experiences.
But what’s there to discover is that it’s just not true: each are both.
Grieving and giving birth are both beautiful and intensely difficult.
Grief and loving are opposite sides of the same coin.
Grief is simply the form love takes after the beloved is gone.
In the same way, we receive and we lose parts of our hearts over time, and the experience changes us.
In both birth and grief we want to rush through the hard parts and get right to healing.
As a doula, it’s my job to remind you that you can try to bypass pain, but it’s like skipping over many miles between here and there. If you stop too soon, you don’t end up where you wanted to go. You end up somewhere else, stopped along the way.
And there’s no epidural for the loss of someone you love. It honors the person, relationship or hope you’ve lost when you give them the love and mourning they’re due. When you tend the recognition of loss, you honor what’s gone in a quietly profound way.
Yes, it is extraordinarily painful to look at and be with what hurts.
Doing so may fundamentally change who we are, a frightening prospect from the outset.
But look, life has already changed. Life asks that we change ourselves in order to stay with what’s true and real.
How does that happen?
- A day, a moment, a breath; one contraction or one wave of grief at a time.
- Getting connected with your body, as it is, and as it isn’t, right now. Then losing it, and reconnecting a thousand times or more.
- Using comfort measures to keep your head above water. Enjoying the sunshine and ease when it comes, for as long as it lasts.
- With patient and loving support.
Some of these things, I can help with. Others, I can help you find if you need.
Blessings to you, your grief, and your (re)birth, beloved.
