The same kind of different

I feel like last night was another kind of midwifery for me.  This time we were waiting for life to pass instead of life to arrive.  But it still felt like midwifery.  

A room filled with women...women gathered to offer strength, honor, love.  

A space to be "held", dignity to be watched over.  

Loving touch, relaxing massage, caresses; comfort measures. 

Beautiful, soothing, relaxing music.  A harpist, no less.

I love you's

I love you too's

Hands held, hair brushed, kisses to forehead, sweat wiped from a brow.

Instead of listening to fetal heart tones, we listen to each other, to ragged breathes, small sighs.  

Hours to pass, weariness, grace.  

Prayers offered up.  

Prayers answered.

When life left, it was beautiful in its simplicity.  Just one small sigh and she was gone.  The emotions at that moment were just as raw and just as real as at any birth I've attended.  It was the same, but different.

The same kind of different.

The tears are the same, only different.

It's goodbye instead of hello

The same but different

The honor of attending, the same but different

Relief that it's over, the same but different

Joy in the moment, the same but different

Birth and Death, it's all just the same kind of different