The hush at the start of December provides the body and soul a halcyon period to reflect on the beginnings to come around December 21, the time of the longest night in the Northern Hemisphere.
In my home tradition, we use this time to put plans into action as the light half of the year begins. While many religious traditions enjoy some kind of celebration of the light returning, it is an overall symbol of renewal and a reminder of the cycle of life.
What dies, lives. What lives, dies. The dark half of the year comes to a close with a whimper and a softness that embraces the start of the light half of the year.
Seven Decembers ago, on the first day of Mercury Retrograde in Sagittarius under overcast warm skies, and barely a week after the second month of my mother’s passing, I took a certification course in Death Midwifery. I signed up perhaps six weeks prior to the start of the class, and barely a month after my mother’s passing. I don’t really remember why I did, except that there was a spot left, the hotel was down the street from my neighborhood, and I somehow thought that it sounded like a positive and engaging method to socially engage with others while re-entering the world of the living.
In short, grief appears and resolves itself in mysterious ways.
At the time, I had vaguely heard of the term “midwife” and “doula.” They appeared to be interchangeable, at least in terms of babies. Perhaps it would be the same with death.
What I did not know then, were two things: first, it would change my life and second, etymology makes a difference.
Unanticipated initiations are sometimes the best ones because there is so little time to be frightened or nervous. I had arranged and attended the second of two memorial services for my mother the Sunday before. The twelve hundred mile drive to and from the service was some of the best I’d seen in November in a very long time. The clear blue skies, moderate and slightly warm temperatures in the forties reminded me of past travels with family, friends, and partners where the destination was never quite the goal.
Motorcycles Caravan Following – a last picture by my father and so typical of being out on the road. [C. Ajana]
Death midwifery asks us to face personal and societal mores surrounding death, dying, and transitions.
After all, dying is the ultimate road trip. Who knows what is at the end? Depending on one’s faith or spiritual tradition, the end can be a type of paradise, a place of agony, a glorious reunion with loved ones past and present, or the ultimate understanding of life’s mysteries. Think of driving a car on a long road as we crest a rolling hill.
Road [Pixabay]
Do we know what lies on the other side? We might think you do, but until we cross that threshold, we don’t really know. We take comfort as human beings in reassurances through prayer, meditation, our communication with the gods (or god/goddess/deity), but we are faced with the understanding that we can only attempt to prepare to cross that threshold.
This is the twin opposite of life, when we exit the birth canal with no memory of what came before while we were in the womb and uncertainty as to what awaits us as we enter the cold air and take our first breaths as independent creatures.
The draw to death midwifery comes in this realization that we need each other towards the end of life far more than at any other time. We have chosen, for better or worse, to live our lives as best as we know how. Long or short, we enter this world alone, and usually, we leave alone. The comfort we give each other during our lifetime is what we hope will be extended to us during the actual process of dying, as well as the moments surrounding death.
This was the lesson I would understand, not when I was gaining it as a caretaker for my own mother, but through the Death Midwife training itself. Seeing what death is, how death is viewed around the world, and the different ways in which we can choose to approach death as the person who is dying and as the loved ones or friends who choose to hold our hands as we enter and cross into the final phases of our existence humbled me. Through films, conversation, keen insight into the burial process, and the group desire to be of service to the dying and family of the dying, I learned then as I continue to learn now.
My work with Hecate, Laima, and Tiamat continues to nourish the call to engage with various aspects of death.At first, I thought it was an extended desire to grieve in form of serving others. In actuality, the practice encouraged me to think about how I live in a culture where death is another commodity, a practice made predictable in too many cases by the lack of a coherent death culture.
What I mean is that when one is approaching the end of life now, it often means spending one’s last days in a hospital, a hospice space in a hospital or facility, or if one is lucky, in one’s home. While the perceived good death too often portrayed in the movies is one of peacefulness, dying at home with loved ones surrounding you, for many this is not the reality.
Once the death happens, the call to the funeral home occurs with either a prearranged service or the dreaded necessity of making the rounds for the loved one- perhaps after the actual death to make the arrangements for a service that the beloved might or might not have wanted in the first place. This can range from family fights over having an actual funeral or even just a burial instead of a cremation because that is what certain family members want to paying an astronomical amount for a casket and flowers that the beloved might not have wanted and will never see.
Too often the funeral as a show remains how many of us were raised to see end of life services. One of the most crucial roles a death midwife can do is to support the family during this time through conversation, discussion of end of life plans, and for the option of using home services, home funerals, and green funerals, if that is what the dying person wants.
We hate to keep asking, but it is serious. Costs have hit us too.
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As a child, I thought that the rites of death and usage of a funeral home were the norm, and the option to not just die at home, but to have the funeral at home with loved ones decorating the casket, or the exploration of other options beyond burial and cremation, were foreign to me. After training to become a death midwife, I see the world of dying quite differently. As an adherent of an earth-based tradition, the beauty saying farewell to my friends, loved ones, and this lifetime in my own way, without the use of embalming fluid, a casket that will just pollute the earth, or cremation which has its own ecological side effects appeals to me.
Choosing a green funeral, including a funeral pyre, allows a twist in the normal path. It may also end up being a bit more economical overall, as much of the costs for a typical funeral end up with the casket and various fees ranging from picking up the body, embalming or other preparation of the body, services both at the funeral home or other site including the graveside service, and transportation of the body throughout the process. Funerals are a business and they provide necessary services. Funeral homes and their staff deserve to be paid for the work they do.
Although I started to use the terms “death midwife” and “death doula” interchangeably, I realized that etymologically, the term “doula” did not fit my personal beliefs, because the word “doula” is Greek, with the original meaning of “slave.” Being a descendant of slaves, I do not like anything that is even remotely associated with the use and terms of slavery.
Indeed, etymology makes a difference.
Now, many who use the term doula as “companion”, for either helping with birth or death might or might not be aware of its origins.
For many, the past 50 years, since the term “doula” was utilized in the 1955 text by Dana Raphael, The Tender Gift: Breastfeeding regarding necessary support for breastfeeding women, our societal reaction to the term “doula” is to think of new mothers and the process of bringing babies into this world. Add the word “death” as a prefix and the idea is that of ushering individuals transitioning out of this world.
What is often not commonly discussed however, is the meaning of the words “doula” (feminine), “doulas” (masculine) and “douloi” (plural) forms of the Greek word for “slave.” This word remains in existence in classic and modern Greek, which means that every time one uses the term “doula” or “doulas” the underlying meaning is not “companion” as many might understand in contemporary 21st century Western (American terms) but servitude.
Known for its gifts to modern civilization, Ancient Greek society was hierarchical in nature. As such, individuals were born into and there were certain expectations of each rank or class in society. The primary beneficiary was male with full rights to participate in society, including the right to vote, the right to hold public office, and the right to own property. These rights were not available to women, children, immigrants, laborers, and slaves. In contemporary parlance, a large portion of the 330+ million Americans would not have the very freedoms we treasure and revere in the 21st century.
Douloi, or specifically slaves, were a status symbol of sorts, greatly desired, and without rights except for those who might buy their freedom in certain professions, or win their freedom as a reward for exemplary victories in military duty.
Yet, if one examines the duties of those closest to the home, including slaves who served women or slaves who served men, these were the most intimate aspects of life, including bathing, dressing, and the like. Perhaps this is one reason Greek companions have fought to use that term “companion” and not the term “doula.”
To call such a person a companion misses the underlying point: affection might grow between the owner or full citizen and the slave, but the individual is still a slave – without rights, the ability to vote, the ability to property, and the ability to be a full and free citizen regardless of gender.
Although some of my male relatives served in the Civil War, I remain a descendant of an enslaved people in the United States; therefore, I cannot with full awareness use a term that recalls the harshness my own ancestors endured.
Likewise, I wonder how many individuals who value the current democratic system of justice and the promotion of freedom, choice, and the right to vote as full and free citizens for all adults can use such a term knowing its etymological history.
Words matter.
Ignorance does not eliminate the right the persons who utilize the word to know exactly what is being promoted with the usage of the word.
What I do as a death midwife is not slavery in any part, or even just “attending the death.” It involves caring for the needs of the family, the loved one, and providing a safe space during a rough time. We are not medical professionals, nor do we seek to replace funeral homes. When I think of the traditional meaning of the term “slave,” even with the use of household slaves in the United States, the implication is for services beyond just bringing the food or changing clothes, but tending to personal intimate needs. Slavery, by its nature, is not voluntary, so using a term so closely connected to a lack of consent bothers me, as a woman of color and as a Witch.
One woman’s choice nearly 70 years ago to introduce a term in contemporary usage with a different meaning than its original one should not be a permanent reason to use that same term once the full awareness of its origins is brought to light. Occasionally, there is a dissenting opinion defending the right to use the term “doula” as a more modern definition; however, I wonder how many of those who use the term “doula” would agree with its traditional definition if they knew about it.
As a death midwife, I embrace a return to the old ways, the acknowledgement that we can help each other to prepare for our journey into Death’s embrace before we are forced to face it. Perhaps it is planning our own funerals, green burials, celebrations of life, and death party preparation.
Yes, I did say “death party.” Think about it. We welcome a new life into this world with great fanfare and excitement. We gather all who would bear witness (and whom the mother would allow in the hospital room or home setting) to support and be present. Surely we could do the same for those who are leaving.
As a celebration of a long life lived, we honor loved one through our presence and through carrying out that person’s wishes regarding how they wish to exit life. Some want silence. Others want a big party or certain people around.
At this time, I give gratitude for the lessons learned and the reality revealed through the training as a death midwife. It helps to see the world around me more clearly and to prepare, as always, for the start of the new year with the return of the light.
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