Doulas and crying

Kristin is out of town, helping an old, dear friend give birth to her first baby. I’m so glad and proud that I can support her, taking the boys alone while she performs her doula duties. That support is my gift, as well as hers.

And yet, telling my neighbor about it on the phone, I felt like crying.

I felt like crying because, when I said that Kristin birthed her babies quickly, I felt like I should be saying that about me, too. And when I spoke of her client laboring for over 24 hours, I felt like I should be saying that about me, too.

But I can’t.

It seems so wrong, so surreal, that I can be such a woman, and yet have a body that won’t do woman things.

It’s a hollowness, an ache, a loss that cannot be contained.

Thank god for the boys. At least I can mother them.