Tag Archives: Labour

Blood splattered socks

Blood splattered socks

On any other day she would be considered unkempt. Her loosened hair is now matted amongst three day old braids. There are fluids staining the back of her blue gown. She has unbrushed teeth, despite vomiting all the curry from the night before. She’s eaten only popsicles since, and those too, pink, purple and orange,… Read more

Dutch Tulip Red

Dutch Tulip Red

I’ve watched a woman’s toes in labour enough to know. Enough to know when she’s reaching her limit, enough to know when the true labouring of labour has begun. There are the toes that curl into tight, whitened balls, or those toes that stretch, splayed further apart than they have ever gone before, looking to… Read more

When I knew I loved you

When I knew I loved you

I found out I loved you today. Today was day four, and together we walked the woods, our chosen path, the two miles we’ve walked together these past few weeks. It was all too familiar for us, only this time, you heard my heart beating from chest level on the outside, but I held you… Read more

After the storm

After the storm

There always comes a calm. That moment when the pain slips away into her distant memory. That moment when it becomes worth her sacrifice. Everything before the calm was either a nightmare or a dream. Everything was either nothing she needed or everything she required. Everything is a chapter closed. I can promise you the… Read more

Turning into our mothers

Turning into our mothers

Sometimes as a doula I make women cry. Sometimes without warning, the tears start to flow. But more often than not I see it coming. My questions are asked intentionally so to roll that boulder from off of that cave, to uncover her hidden burden. I want to get there. And I don’t do it to be cruel,… Read more

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