Chapter 24 - Midwifing the Dying

      Five days ago I was so sick, it felt in some way like I was dying. I had a raging fever. Weakness and fatigue clogged every cell in my body, making it impossible to surface into any functional level of consciousness. I felt buried in a stupor I couldn’t climb out of. I was sinking. I faded in and out of awareness, and in my oppressive fog I imagined—if I were in fact actively dying—how would I be? What would I need at that moment?

     I knew… A midwife. I would need and want someone with the qualities of a midwife… to sit with me, to bring their strength and wisdom to my bedside, and to hold me with their calm, fearless presence—someone unafraid to bear witness to my suffering.

     I am a hospice nurse now so I am with the dying almost every day. I see them move through the various stages of their final journeys, each in their own unique way. I watch them struggle, as they come face to face with the raw truth that they will soon leave this life.

     Just as in giving birth, there comes a time when this struggle usually gives way to surrender. They go to a place no one else can go—tucking in, letting the wave take them. At this time they are crossing over—whether giving birth or dying— because both are dramatically leaving the known and opening to the unknown.

     It is my experience that to accompany someone at that time is to enter into their dance, to ride their ride, and to match their courage with our full attention. It’s all about them. It’s their time. They need us to support their letting go, and to help ground them with our presence until they do.

     Midwives do this extremely well. I believe that’s why so many are called into hospice work.

     I am on the mend now, but in the peak of my illness, I had the gift of a very tiny glimpse into what it might feel like to leave my body. And knowing what I felt I would need, I hope, will make me a better hospice nurse who can provide that for others.