The Circle of Life: Part 2

Last week I wrote a little about my thoughts on watching my friend B give birth to a new little girl, and how birth is both similar to, and different than, death. I’m going to continue in that vein here.

In that first post I talked about how there can be beauty in death.  However, as someone (my mother) pointed out, some deaths are not only emotionally heartwrenching, but also very physically painful to both endure and watch (and, at times, very messy).  That, of course, is also true.  Sometime soon–maybe next week–I’m going to write a little about what a “good death” looks like, and if that’s even a valid concept.  For the time being, let me acknowledge that some deaths are not beautiful, on any level.  That being said, some deaths are, which I think is a very comforting thought.

Anyway, on to the topic at hand: birth v. death 😉

This being modern day America, drugs are often involved in both birth and death. Of course, there are always people who prefer to do both without them. I’d say that was more true in birth than in death, but I’m not actually sure that’s the case. The drugs can make you loopy or sedated, of course, and that can definitely alter your experience (see my story from last week). When pain medications are used, comfort is the goal in both cases. We often see families struggle with how much pain medication to give for fear of overly sedating the patient. It is a delicate dance, but I think the dance is pretty similar for birth, too.

The human body is made to endure all of these experiences: being born, giving birth (well, at least females are), and dying. And left to its own devices the body will usually prepare itself for each of them. I think we are probably all familiar with the work the fetus and mother go through–it’s pretty dramatic, the change from a cell to a full-fledged human; the ability of a woman to pass a bowling ball from her cervix. But the body prepares for death, too, when allowed to. As the body shuts down and rejects food and water, the body creates its own pain medication and the dying often seem to be awash in peace. They say that the dying also do lots of internal work as well, preparing for their final journey. If you really want to be amazed by the experiences of the dying, read Final Gifts.  Part of them is here with us and part of them has gone on to their next destination. They are not really still in this world, at least not completely, even if they are technically still alive. While there are certainly exceptions, many times the dying just slip into a coma-like state. Things can be very peaceful, they slow down, and then they are gone. And, as one of you pointed out last week, often times people manage to do it just when everyone has stepped out.  I will write more about that some other time, too.

Both birth and death can be incredibly stressful situations, and they are both, to some extent, beyond our control. There is usually little sleep to be found amid either type of situation, which in itself is stressful. In my opinion, you should never underestimate the power of sleep.  Due to the uncertainty of the process and/or the outcome, in both birth and death people are often struggling to gain control. The labor and delivery nurses at B’s hospital were joking that whenever they saw a woman bring in a “birthing plan” it meant one thing: they would end up with an unplanned C-section (my birthing plan, by the way, consisted of only one thing: Have a baby.  But I got that unplanned C-section anyway). Both situations require a lot of work and help. And, in both situations, all of that stress can cause a lot of discord and meltdowns. In death it is complicated by grief and loss; in birth it is complicated by hormones. I was surprised to find myself talking to my friend and her family in much the same way that I do in hospice: “Everybody is overtired and stressed out, and may not be their best selves right now…it’s natural to try to control things when they seem out of control…just try to go easy on each other…” When I was a new mom, exhausted and sleep deprived from working (unsuccessfully) ’round the clock to increase my milk supply , at one point I had a complete fit because everybody else went to check out the new Target while I stayed at home to nurse.  I was voted “nicest personality” in high school, but I literally screamed at my in-laws.  Yup.  Stress…it’s really something.

Stress can come not just from lack of sleep, but also from the unknown.  From predicting sleep cycles (for both newborns and the terminally ill) to what happens to us after we die; how we are going to live with this new child or how we are going to live without someone we love…well, we just don’t know.  For both newborns and the dying, often times the only constant is change.  Just when you think you have things figured out, it all changes: sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.   You can’t plan ahead: the only thing you can be certain of is that at some point it’s going to change again.  There’s that control thing again; the only reassuring part is that if things are bad, at least you will never have to live through that particular day again.

In some ways, it seems like there’s a little more certainty in death.  It’s a bumpy road getting there, of course–I don’t mean to minimize the terrible despair that often goes hand in hand with knowing that death is near.  But, once you are at the point of knowing that it is going to happen, that’s pretty much all that can happen.  Assuming pain is controlled, there really isn’t a “worse case scenario” (though some deaths can be very difficult, as mentioned above).   With birth, there’s very little certainty.  A million things can go wrong.  My friend B, like myself, is not a spring chicken–I think some of her lady parts were described as “geriatric.”  She was all too aware of all of the things that could go wrong, and I think that’s why she wanted me there.  Even though we didn’t talk about it, there was an undercurrent of worry in the room.

B flew through the birth with flying colors. Our worry for her health and the health of her baby were for naught. Of course, we all knew what was going to happen next. As soon as that baby was out, the real work was going to begin. Babies, as it turns out, are a lot easier to take care of when they are the inside of you than when they are on the outside. At the end of life, the physical work comes to an end when the life ends, for the most part. The work of grieving, however, can last for a very long time.

That being said, I’m sure that most of us would prefer being born to dying, either as a witness or a participant.  That’s not a shocker.  Birth is generative: another new life is created.  We end up with this cute little thing in our arms.  With death, someone has left us.  One is a gain, the other is a loss.  They are a package deal, of course: we are all born mortal, and to be born is to eventually die.  Birth is almost always met with happiness, and death almost always with sadness.  We do live on, though.  Our lives may end, but our impact can be immortal.  What starts with the miracle of birth need not be diminished by the miracle of death; it is merely transformed.

Oh, well, so much for me not being sentimental–those last couple of sentences there were pretty mushy.  Sorry about that.

So, what do you think?  Every birth and death experience is completely unique.  Do your experiences gel with mine?  Do I seem way off to you?  Share your thoughts on the comment link below–I’d love to hear them.  And, as always, thanks for reading.