When I graduated as a social worker, I served in social service agencies for a few years until burnout and vicarious trauma hit hard. I left the field and floundered for a bit until I opened a newspaper one day and there was an article about birth doulas. What I’d been doing had a name! I began to again look at birth work as a career option, and moved ahead with formal training. It was an exciting time, and my paid work again soon got put on hold as I became unexpectedly pregnant myself! But Life knew what it was doing. I am 100% clear I could not have served nearly as well as a doula if I hadn’t birthed and parented myself, so I was gifted that piece of incomparable education with good timing. I found my personal and professional lives paralleled. My skill set was expanding beyond birth doula work into postpartum doula work, the childbirth education I offered integrated aspects of my social work skills, and I learned more about empowerment by walking alongside folks with fertility challenges and in coming to facilitate parent and baby groups with an emphasis on supporting mental health. 

Along the way, death appeared and I became a full-spectrum doula, able to support families experiencing not only healthy pregnancy and birth, but also those who were to know elective and spontaneous losses of various presentations. I learned and learned and learned, sometimes through formal education, but more so from colleagues and the beautiful families who opened their lives to let me join for a while. My own child grew and left the nest, and I entered a new phase of life, that of caring for my only living parent. Being on call for births was no longer viable. Doing in-person postpartum work with babies and their siblings brought too much risk of infection that I could pass to my vulnerable mother. Again, my personal and professional lives reflected one another and I claimed more time to serve as a social worker, but this time in private practice, offering counseling and psychotherapy to individuals and couples navigating the twists and turns of life. As I moved further into the world of elders as a caregiver, my work role has also placed me more in that position, providing counsel and support to young parents, drawing on the fruits of my earlier career with greater maturity and wisdom. The truths of birth, death, and the short time between them are the fabric of my work.

Can you discuss the parallels of doula work at birth and that at end of life?

Mystery. Totality. Defining. Real profundity.

Mystery in the biggest ways: Where do we come from? Where do we go? When do we actually begin and cease to be, if ever? There are many unknowns in both processes. We don’t know exactly when either will occur for any individual, barring medical control such as a planned cesarean or induction of labor, or MAiD or withdrawal of life support. While there are some common occurrences, signs, patterns in both transitions, there aren’t neat formulas, even when medical interventions are applied. Life always has the final say, and a doula is wise to hold this fact with reverence and help those being served do the same.

Totality in that birth and death are a totality. Whatever exists in life—in one way or another—can show up in both birth and death. Trust, fear, safety, pain, transformation, violation, beauty, mess, poetry, tragedy, connection, trauma, love, grief. The doula role requires great capacity, agility, and courage to be with whatever comes. Defining because someone comes earthside, or they leave. These moments not only serve as the bounds of that individual’s time on earth, they make meaning for loved ones and others whose stories are interwoven. When a child is born, so is a parent, a sibling, a grandparent. When a person dies, someone may become an orphan, a widow, an initiate into the world of grief. As a doula, one is tasked with bearing witness to others being defined and redefined, doing what we can to support that process so that it can be as healthy as possible.

Real profundity insofar as the wonders of body, mind, spirit, and interconnection assert themselves in both mundane and sacred ways. There are fluids excreted, and breath is of chief concern. The mind can be friend or foe. Those involved may find strength in soul work or have zero inclination to engage in that way. When we birth, are born, hold vigil, and die, we do so in ways that cannot possibly be extracted from the biopsychosocial contexts in which we live. For doulas, we can be and do for those we serve in ways that honor the unique unfoldings of journeys as straightforward and complex, surface and deep, everyday and special. Even the simple act of wiping a brow can carry power immeasurable.

What made you want to teach others, and what is your teaching philosophy and style?

My mother was a teacher, and I think I caught the passion for teaching in utero! More accurately, however, I enjoy educating. The Latin term educere, meaning to draw out, is one of the roots of the English word educate. I love assisting others in blossoming, connecting to their wisdom and gifts, helping provide new information and perspectives that may blend with their existing knowledge to expand the impact of their positive power in the world. As an educator, I feel grateful for the growth I inherently experience because of the role. I learn so much from colleagues and students, and when we teach, we get to deepen our understanding of material. In many ways, I teach because I love to learn.

You are co-teaching a series on trauma-informed care. Can you sum up this offering so learners can get a sense of what they might learn?

The Trauma-Informed Caregiving workshop series provides evidence-based information about trauma while integrating my and my co-educator’s lived experiences as social workers and doulas. The first workshop thoroughly articulates what trauma is and isn’t, giving folks a solid understanding of how trauma can be in the room at any time, and the ways in which it might show up. The second workshop details how to provide trauma-informed care both pre-emptively and responsively. The third workshop explores aspects of vicarious trauma and how caregivers can prevent and address secondary trauma for themselves, and we discuss the strengthening possibility of post-traumatic growth.

As you are based in Ontario, Canada, can you share with us how the deathcare system is different from what you know about in the United States? Also, are there any distinct differences in how people approach end of life?

The two major differences in end-of-life care between Canada and the U.S. pertain to hospice and MAiD. In Canada, hospice care is most commonly provided in hospice homes, less so in an individual’s place of residence, whereas in the U.S. the inverse is true. With respect to medical assistance in dying, in Canada the law is federal, so all Canadians have access to this aspect of health care, regardless of where they live in the country. In the U.S., MAiD is regulated on a state-by-state basis, and my understanding is that it is not available in the majority of the states. The criteria for MAiD between the two countries also has some significant differences, with Canada providing this care for a broader range of conditions than most states.

As a member of the LGBTQIA2S+ community, are there perspectives that you want to share about end-of-life care that some may have not considered?

It’s important to educate oneself! From language and regional differences in culture (as an example, in Canada the acronym is most commonly ordered 2SLGBTQIA+ for important political reasons) to having real, congruent implementation of inclusivity, there is always more to learn and room to grow. Virtually all caregivers working in the end-of-life field will serve members of the LGBTQIA2S+ community, and some of them will not be out, so the caregivers may well not be able to know if someone is a member of the community or not. Therefore, we’re all wise to use inclusive languaging and policies and to follow any individual’s lead. Some people very much want to and can be out, and for others it’s just not safe. We must be respectful and supportive in our service no matter which is true. We have the power to create acceptance and safety within our relationship with a client, including if that means we hold the closet door shut for them.

What do you carry with you into your INELDA trainings that can be viewed as a gift for the learners?

While I still have much to learn about the physical and medical aspects of dying, my strong suit is the psychosocialspiritual realm. I’m a very sensitive person, and that has led me to become more and more refined in my use of language, managing healthy boundaries, and other aspects of relating with others. When others hurt or suffer it pains me greatly, and this has compelled me to keep improving in my ability to not be the cause, or to do what I can to facilitate ease when possible. While I obviously still make missteps, I also often manage to engage with compassion and skill born of experience, and I’ve been blessed with enough courage to speak from both my heart and my head.

What would you like learners to walk away from a training with after having been taught by you?

I’d love for folks to walk away feeling more connected to themselves and others, and with skills to both maintain and continue creating connections of value. I’d love people to gain that much more empowerment and liberation, and for that to have a ripple effect in all their circles. I’d love us all to have more reverence for life and death, complexity and grief. I’d love for people to feel inspired to shine their light and take reasonable risks to alleviate suffering whenever they can. My wish is that our collective efforts see life and death informing one another in the most honest, beautiful, and virtuous ways, restoring humans to being healthy members of the earth community.