You can do hard things. Even this.

We’re at the end of our third week being home together, and the end of the second week of more major lifestyle shifts. It’s hard to imagine it’s only been that long.

I feel so deeply grateful for the way this time has been able to be one of rest and quality time for my family. I mean it when I say that there is not a day that goes by that I am not fully aware that we are one of the lucky ones. Though our time is not without its financial strain, fears, and discomfort, it’s an understatement to say it could be a lot worse. I read recently, “Anyone able to be inconvenienced by this is deeply privileged,” and I think that sentiment bears repeating.

Every day or so when I take a little time to process what’s going on, a birth metaphor pops in my head (I only process life through metaphors, so, sorry for those of you that are sick of mine). Am I crazy to see this whole experience as labor? I’m not sure. But since this is stuck in my mind, I had to get it out somehow, so here you go.

It’s a labor of love toward humankind, prioritizing the safety of others over our social calendar and desires, in many cases over our ability to provide per usual, etc. as those giving birth sacrifice themselves for the life of their child.

A labor that is hard work, uncomfortable. Even with all the interventions available, the reality of this labor is unavoidable. There is no pain medication or breathing technique that can take us from where we are.

A labor that will inevitably end better for some and full of challenge and heartache for others.

And no matter how our labor unfolds, it will be an experience that leads to a long recovery period, physically and emotionally.

As a doula, I am prepared for labor. I can coach you on your breathing. I will remind you to drink water, suggest new positions and exercises to help you “lean in". I can offer support, understanding, information and space.

I cannot make labor not hurt.

I cannot make labor uncomplicated.

I cannot remove the hardships of your recovery period.

Just as this will not go by faster, be removed,

be less painful or less hard,

or any easier to recover from

than it is.

I am grateful for the unique perspective I am granted as a birth worker. There is something so grounding about attending births in this season, remembering that life cannot be stopped. I believe the world could use some more doulas right now; doulas in families, friendships and at work. Fellow humans, willing to sit in an honest acknowledgment of the fullness of our circumstance, reminding us of the value of the pain we are enduring. Someone willing to stand with you and say, “I know this hurts, but remember that you can do hard things.”

Because most importantly, I believe this is a labor that will give way to new life for all of us laboring through, but also for a new collective existence to come.

So breathe, drink water, and be a doula for someone else. Trust me, we all need a reminder of the strength that we’ve forgotten.