The last days of pregnancy are a distinct time of in-between. It’s a tricky time for mothers, as these last few days are biological and psychological events.

You are curled up on the couch, waiting, a ball of baby and emotions. A scrambled pile of books on pregnancy, labor, baby names, breastfeeding … not one more word can be absorbed. The birth supplies are loaded ready for action. The freezer is filled with meals, the car seat installed, Mobile devices tablets Bluetooth speaker charged and ready. It’s

time to hurry up and wait. Not a comfortable place to be, but wholly necessary.

The last days of pregnancy — sometimes stretching to agonizing weeks — are a distinct place, time, event, stage. It is a time of in between. Neither here nor there. Your old self and your new self, balanced on the edge of a pregnancy. One foot in your old world, one foot in your new world!

Shouldn’t there be a word for this state of being, describing the time and place where mothers linger, waiting to be called forward?

Germans have a word, zwischen, which means between

I’ve co-opted that word for my own Doula support. When I sense there may be discomfort and tension of late pregnancy in my clients, I suggest that they are now in The Time of Zwischen. The time of in between, where the opening begins. Giving it a name gives it dimension, an experience closer to wonder than something to be endured.

I tell these beautiful, round, swollen, weepy women to go with it and be okay there. Feel it, think it, don’t push it away. Write it down, sing really loudly when no one else is home, go commune with nature, or crawl into your own mama’s lap so she can rub your head until you feel better. I tell their men to let go of their worry; this is an early sign of labor. I encourage them to sequester themselves if they need space, to go out if they need a distraction, to enjoy the last hours of this life-as-they-now-know-it. I try to give them permission to follow the instinctual gravitational pulls that are at work within them, just as real and necessary as labor.

The discomforts of late pregnancy are easy to Google: painful pelvis, squished bladder, swollen ankles, leaky nipples, weight unevenly distributed in a girth that makes scratching an itch at ankle level a feat of flexibility. “You might find yourself teary and exhausted,” says one website, “but your baby is coming soon!” Cheer up, sweetheart you are having a baby.

What we don’t have is reverence or relevance — or even a working understanding of the vulnerability and openness a woman experiences at this time. Our language and culture fail us. This surely explains why many women find this time so complicated and tricky. But whether we recognize it or not, these last days of pregnancy are a distinct biologic and psychological event, essential to the birth of a mother.

We don’t scientifically understand the complex hormones at play that loosen both her hips and her awareness. In fact, this uncomfortable time of aching is an early form of labor in which a woman begins opening her cervix and her soul. Someday, maybe we will be able to quantify this hormonal advance — the prolactin, oxytocin, cortisol, relaxin. But for now, it is still shrouded in mystery, and we know only how to measure thinning and dilation.

“You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That’s where I’ll always love you, Peter Pan. That’s where I’ll be waiting.” -Tinkerbell

I believe that this is more than biological. It is spiritual. To give birth, whether at home in a birth tub with candles and family or in a surgical suite with machines and a neonatal team, a woman must go to the place between this world and the next, to that thin membrane between here and there. To the place where life comes from, to the mystery, in order to reach over to bring forth the child that is hers. The heroic tales of Odysseus are with us, each ordinary day. This round woman is not going into battle, but she is going to the edge of her being where every resource she has will be called on to assist in this journey.

We need time and space to prepare for that journey. And somewhere, deep inside us, at a primal level, our cells and hormones and mind and soul know this and begin the work with or without our awareness.

I call it Zwischen in prenatals as a way of offering comfort and, also, as a way of offering protection. I see how simple it is to exploit and abuse this time. A scheduled induction is seductive, promising a sense of control. Fearful and confused family can trigger a crisis of confidence. We are not a culture that waits for anything, nor are we believers in normal birth; waiting for a baby can feel like insanity. Giving this a name points her toward listening and developing her own intuition. That, in turn, is a powerful training ground for motherhood.

Today, I am waiting for a lovely new mother to announce that her Zwischen is ended and labor has begun. I am in my own in between place, waiting. My opportunity to grow and open is a lovely gift she gives me, in choosing me to attend her birth.

I am truly honored to support you.

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I would like to share with you a peek into my Doula world…

Some days, my schedule may seem pretty typical: A smoothie and bike ride as the sun rises, a morning prenatal appointment, a post birth check-in phone call or visit with a Momma and baby, grabbing a meal between meetings, classes to teach, a new client consult or two, a postpartum breastfeeding visit… sometimes getting home at 9 or 10 pm and realizing that dinner has yet to be eaten, the laundry needs to be done, the dog needs to be walked and groceries need to be bought. In the spaces between, there are e-mails that need to be answered, records that need to be updated, friends that need to be visited and family members to connect with.

Recreate- rehearse- repeat

Or, none of the above. Any day, any time, no matter what I may have planned, I could be lifted right out. When the “come now” call happens, my life screeches to a halt as I make a quick change, grab my Doula bag, and get in the car. I might be out of bed in the middle of the night, traveling to a distant city other than home I may greet the sunrise through a hospital window, bleary-eyed, having spent the last twelve hours with a laboring mama.

My clients get last-minute calls, telling them I need to reschedule. My friends and family are told that I will have to re-schedule.

I’m sometimes asked, “Isn’t that hard? How do you do it?” In my view, I’m the one who is blessed. I’m getting to do what I love. My needs are met by my getting to live my passion. Sure, sometimes I might have a quick thought of, “Oh, I wish this was happening on a different day”, but when I’m present at birth, most of the time I’m not thinking about being anywhere else. Committing to someone’s birth means giving them the privilege to take the reins over a day in this precious, beautiful life of mine. I get the blessing of being part of a miracle.

I am living out my calling, and my heart is full of gratitude

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