Working Womb to Tomb

Aren’t God’s plans always so much better than our own? A few months ago I received an email alerting me that my Nurse Practitioner Certification was up for renewal. Basically, if I did not get a job fast, my certification would expire. It was perfect timing, since after a few years at home with my babies, I was itching to wear my stethoscope. My background is in family practice, and my passion in women’s health, but I somehow landed in hospice...Hey God, how on earth did I get here? I thought. End of life…I had just spent years of my working hours dealing with beginning of life. (Soon to come blog about my work as a Fertility Care Practitioner where I help women & couples learn the natural signs of their bodies to track fertility, & use Napro to treat infertility, miscarriage, PMS etc!) How ironic.

Yet, after my first month as a Hospice NP, I can see what He was doing. Oh, how little faith I often have. I entered the medical field wanting to serve the pro-life movement…Now with every reproductive aged woman I teach, and every dying patient I care for, I have the utmost opportunity as a pro-life ambassador. Really, there is no better opportunity than in this work from womb to tomb!

Here is what I have learned - To the tears of joy and pain from positive tests to absent heartbeats, to the frail hands and closed eyes of the elderly, life is precious. Life is worth giving. Life is worth living.

The author of this beautiful book, Midwife for Souls, puts is best:

“The symmetry between natural birth and natural death fascinated me. From beginning to end, the physical, psychological, and spiritual similarities are striking. 

First, there’s the shock of diagnosis. Even when a woman is trying to get pregnant. The news is unbelievable. And even though we all know that we must someday die, we really don’t expect it to happen to us.

The next step is to consult professionals, seeking a good outcome. The pregnant woman absorbs information from veteran mothers, searching for the best way to make this journey. The terminally ill person read articles and consult survivors, searching for an angle the doctors may have missed. 

The last several weeks are a time of spiritual searching and life review. The pregnant mother works on relinquishing her pre-baby life, and the dying person detaches from this world.

The pregnant mother nests. She gathers all the things she’ll need for the baby and prepares her home for the new arrival. The dying person carries out a reverse nesting, giving away belongings, putting business in order, and perhaps making funeral arrangements.

The pregnant mother wonders how she’ll make room in her heart for someone else to love. The dying person wonders how to let go of loved ones.

The pregnant mother may feel out of control, as if her body has a mind of its own. The dying person may see the body as the enemy. As the time of birth approaches, the mother worries about the actual birthing. Will it hurt? Will I have the people I want around me? What will it really be like? The dying person has the same questions.

Giving birth is something the body knows how to do, and usually does quite well if interventions are kept to a minimum. In the dying process, the changes in the body are self-protective. Medical interference prolongs the dying and diminishes both comfort and peace.

The goal of midwifery in childbirth is a healthy mother, a safe birth for mother and child, and a healthy baby. In midwifery for souls, the goal is a comfortable body, a peaceful passage, and a triumphant soul. The family’s active involvement and loving presence greatly assist in the achievement of these goals.

Confusion, dissension, and any form of negativity interfere with birthing and dying, and tend to generate complications. Above all else, fear is the greatest enemy. Both birth and death take great effort, and the labor is easier to endure with eyes focused on the reward.”

AMAZING right??? Whatever you are questioning today, be assured God’s plans are much, much better than anything you are dreaming of.

In Joy,

Alex