On a fairly regular basis, I have the honor of helping to bring a new life into the world. It is a privilege that I hold in the highest regard. To be present when a family is welcoming a new baby is nothing short of a miracle. Ever. Sometimes I act as a midwife's assistant at out-of-hospital births and sometimes I act as a doula (trained labor coach) in hospital births. I love doing both of these, but my favorite - the role of a doula.
There is just something incredible about being with a woman when she is her most primal role. There is a quiet, passionate strength that a birthing woman has during those few hours that is never again quite as intense. It is strange and beautiful, strong and unique. To be with a woman and, for those few tough hours, to give her the gift of courage and reassurance, is humbling to say the least.
It is most often during that late 'transition' stage that a woman will be unable to open her eyes, will shake her head back and forth, and proclaim, "I can't do it..." Each time I hear that, it resonates with me. I remember that pain, remember that fear, and remember all those nagging doubts and agreements that I had made with myself over my lifetime that culminated in that moment of weakness, the moment just before the relief of birth.
There are voices that I hear in my head everyday. Some days they are bold and speak endlessly, one slew of words piling on top of the next, and they speak of my faults. Some days they are softer and more distant, more of a whisper. But they are there. I guess everyone has these 'voices' or thoughts. They always remind me of the old cartoons where there is a battle of good and evil taking place. On one shoulder of the person/animal/whatever, sits an angelic looking person and on the other shoulder sits a devilish-looking person. Of course, the pretty angelic one is trying to get the person to do what is right and the red one with horns and a pitchfork is trying to get them to do wrong.
If only it were that easy. If only the thoughts whispered in my ear were just a quick choice, a choice to eat the forbidden fruit or not to eat the forbidden fruit. But the voices that whisper in my ear whisper straight to my heart as well. I try to hear that I am a child of God, a beautiful woman, and a loving mother. But sometimes those get drowned out by the little red pitchforked-man on the other shoulder. He taunts me and nags me and speaks defeat and sadness and destruction into the other ear. And there's nothing cute or cartoon-like about this guy.
Like the laboring woman, sometimes I need that soft voice whispering that I do have what it takes because God created me for this very purpose. Sometimes I need a reminder of who I am, who God created me to be. And sometimes, I don't want words, but just the presence of another. Just a presence can ward off those doubts and fears and quiet those nagging voices.
May your voice be louder
May you voice be clearer
Than all the others
May your presence be dearer
May your presence be dearer
May your words be sweeter
Than all the others
In my life
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