To Shay

 To my forever favorite midwife. 

You have stood beside me and shared in the stories of all my babies in some way. 

I first met you the night before Jerusha was born. You came to meet her a couple days later because Daniel called and said “can I bring my girl friend, she loves babies and birth and stuff.” He might have predicted you’d be a midwife someday, I’m sure he claims he did..

You were supposed to attend Éowyn’s birth but were stuck at work that night; you came and met her the next day. 

You began your midwifery training with Emmitt and delivered him: our first baby together. 

You did prenatal care for Estel while you could before moving to Wisconsin to further your training. 

You were everything for Ramona and I. 

You cared for Ozella and I, even coming home from Colorado to be my delivering midwife. 

And never leaving so you could marry my brother. 

So you could have your own babies.

And now, you walk a path no mother ever chooses, your world was shattered, your dreams in pieces. 

Your calling as a midwife, set aside, a casualty left on the wayside as you await healing and brighter days. 

No one can know your grief. 

We may all share in it in our own way but no one truly knows yours. 

We too, carry a burden of loss, an emptiness, and a love that seems to have nowhere to land on this earth; but it’s not the same as yours. 

No, the depth of your sorrow is beyond us. 

The gravity of your path, incomprehensible. 

The pain we feel is worlds apart yet somehow shared. 

But you walk, clothed in grace. 

You show the world strength. 

Love. 

Life after death. 

Through you we see hope in tomorrow.  

We see light in the tunnel. 

We see silver lining around clouds. 

We see roses from the ashes. 

In your mourning we see overcoming. 

I wept in guilt as I felt my unborn baby’s movement, still alive. 

I wept in loneliness as I anticipated a birth without the joy of bringing cousins together. 

I wept in fear, mourning a labor without your support. 

And you, my forever midwife. 

You eased my soul. 

You joined my birth. 

You reached over your chasm of grief to give me strength. 

In my hardest moment of labor yours is the voice I heard. 

“You can do this Haley”. 

My friend. 

My sister. 

My midwife. 

Forever.

Shay didn’t attend my birth as a midwife, she attended to share in our joy; because of her love for our family; and it makes a statement about who she truly is that goes far beyond what my words can express. 

Forever, thank you Shay.