Where there is death, there is (re)birth

It’s been 4 years since I let my world die, rot, and rebirth.

I was a wife to a grocery worker, attending births with my PTO while working my 9 to 5 healthcare job in the wake of a global pandemic. Counting the minutes ‘til my toddler’s bedtime and crying myself to sleep from exhaustion were regular occurrences.

I was emotionally isolated, spiritually starved, and worst of all – this was the average state of most moms I knew, so I told myself, “This is normal. This is motherhood. In fact, this is good compared to [so and so],” dismissing my misery because others were experiencing worse.

Attending births and other pregnancy events gave me purpose and showing up for other parents felt instinctive. The first time I felt like I was really utilizing my natural and studied gifts. And if I’m being honest, it was also a time I truly felt valuable and worthy.

Despite experiencing such profound alignment as a doula, I was still depleted and depressed. My solution was to take a chance on my business and leave my fulltime employment. I really expected that first month of self employment to fix my life, but instead it destroyed it.

Mere days into my “brand new life” I found out I was pregnant and the person I counted on to hold me down through it all could not show up for me. I couldn’t believe this was how my story was unfolding. I thought if I just kept giving and serving, I could somehow free myself from my problems.

I was two weeks into the silent treatment from my then spouse and remember sobbing on my knees asking “what do I do?” over and over and over.

At this time, I didn’t believe I was a spirit medium (although more than one medium had suggested it to me during professional readings). As I cried in despair, I felt a sudden wave of peace wash over my body and I began to laugh.

“It’s all going to be okay.”

This was my first visceral experience of channeling my ancestors and it gave me the proof I needed to believe that there was something beyond the only world I had ever known: A world where mothers are martyrs and accessories to the dreams of our partners and children.

Now, I wasn’t completely detached from my voice and agency prior to this catalyst. I’d always felt spiritually connected. . But this was the moment I understood that communicating with my spirits wasn’t one-sided—it wasn’t a letter sent into the void, but an ongoing conversation I’d been part of all along.

Those words of comfort I offered myself on those exhausted nights. The surge of rage when I faced disrespect and witnessed injustice. That “ugh I knew it!” feeling when something went wrong. That night I realized not only had I been abandoning my inner knowing, but I had the support of my spirit guides and well ancestors within me all along.

I had joined a business program the month prior that placed me in space with other service providers of similar cultural backgrounds who were revealed to be the healers, guides, and friends I needed for my rebirth. In that synchronicity was the proof: I had already been listening, and the support I needed was right there.

Since then, I leaned deeper into my meditation, tarot, and altar practices. I found mentors to teach me ancestor work, reiki, and spirit mediumship. I surrounded myself with people evolving forward instead of trying to stay familiar to the loved ones who knew me pre-motherhood.

I didn’t rush to fill my books with clients. Instead, I scaled back to exactly what I needed to get by so that I could rest, listen to my inner wisdom, and actually honor it for the first time in my life.

It was during that time that I connected with my second spirit baby and, with his loving support, I chose abortion. This decision marked the death of the person I knew and the visions I had for myself, my life, and my family. An acceptance of my highest path forward. Following my abortion, I ended my marriage, moved in with my mother, and decayed into the fertile soil I needed in order to finally grow.

This is only a brief version of how my world ended, but I share this because sometimes we need to let things die so we can live.

When I zoom out to the political climate we exist in right now, I see a paradigm that wants to die. A world built on the self silencing, abandonment, and exploited labor and dreams – of mothers especially.

I know now that I was called to steward birth, death, and other life transitions as a doula because these are microcosms of the greater change and transformation we are being invited into as a society. Childbirth is just one of the arenas to practice the essential skill of honoring our inner wisdom.

If change is one of the few things we can count on in life, why not embrace it and participate in the co-creation of our own worlds?

I have rebirthed many times since that turning point in 2021, but surrendering to that first transformation was the scariest. It was through community, spiritual tools, and the courage to rewrite my own story that I found belonging within myself and now get to offer to others, too.

Now that the decay has led to fertile soil, my world is budding with life: 5+ years of business, a home of my own with my son in San Francisco, opportunities to share my story, and a community where I belong not because I give but because I simply exist.

And if you’re somewhere in your own ending right now, know this: you deserve that, too. If my world can bloom again, so can yours.