My maternal grandfather passed away today. I had just gotten back to Salt Lake after a visit home for spring break, and I got to see him last Wednesday. Everything happened so fast and yet it feels like the past few days have been filled with waiting. I am starting to read the coursework for my doula training that begins in a few weeks, and I am struck by how similar birth and death can be. The way your body sometimes takes over and you know you’re ready. We don’t trust our bodies enough. I am comforted to know that when my grandfather died, he was surrounded by his family and his minister. They prayed together in his hospital room before the respirator was disconnected and this knowledge helps. He left the world on a prayer.

As I ponder reverse flights, black pants and last-minute pet sitters, I nap intermittantly and dream of babies, helping shift a birthing woman into a more comfortable position, the beep of monitors, the smell of a hospital and the miracle of new life. I am trying to stay positive and strong. I am thankful for prayer and friendship.