...and they all lived happily ever after...

I tell my granddaughter stories and I always try to end with '...and they all lived happily ever after..." that's because I believe that one must always end on a good note. It gives Hope; it gives butterfly cells a chance at success; it gives way for yet another story...

When I think back to the various midwifery roles I have embraced, starting from a very early age, when I saw my mother struggling after the birth of my youngest sister, I am deeply touched by my desire, my passion to support women during this profound moment in time. And if I could herald a new age where women are worshiped, bowed down to, as they cross the threshold into motherhood, I might be satisfied that they all lived happily ever after...

But I'm tired now, aging into the elder years and will gracefully bow out of the frontline and allow the younger, more resilient women to move in to take my place. Some will feel the desire to embrace the organised regulated system; others the role of support for the women through emotional, spiritual and social modalities; and still others will find their place in becoming mothers themselves. I hope that all will be satisfied with the where, when and with whom they choose. After all, it is only ourselves that we must wake up to...

I watch as my granddaughter takes her place in this time and space. I wonder what the environment will be like when she reaches that place of decision making.

I might not be there to tell her the stories, about the way things were; the way I wanted them to be; the way that there was so much push and pull, when being sovereign came with challenges that sometimes left a woman crushed and unable to get back up again, while others beamed with delight and joyfulness, strong in their stance and ready to get on with the challenges that awaited them.

I carried her as an egg that nestled deeply in her mother's body. I know her intimately as she knows me. She felt my struggles and elations; my failures and my successes. She knows how much I love her...

It is time to hang up the knitting needles when the back and hips groan at 3 in the morning; when putting out clothes to wear just in case there is a call out becomes a tiresome ritual; when my bed is all I want when a woman is only getting started on her birthing journey; and

when yet another midwife or birth support is legally challenged because that's not 'how we do it' anymore...

And yet... I would do it all again just to see a beautiful, strong, powerful woman reach down and take up the infant that will be her home for the rest of her life... A miracle amongst the every day...

And I will smile when I hear that same woman speak of her newest pregnancy; or the child I once 'caught', sharing the news that she now has a bubba within. My heart will fill with joyful anticipation and I will be there, in whatever capacity I can be there, to support her.

Blessings on us all. For I have been blessed in the knowing of the women's secrets and been witness to the magical, mystical journey of existence.