These beads began as a fun craft project. They were a way to keep a count of the births of all the babies for which I was the doula. When I first began to compile them, I poured over birth notes and stories written 15, nearly 20 years ago to find gender. Information was scattered in several places in the beginning of my doula work. My record keeping became more streamlined in recent years. But I was determined to have the right number of blue and pink beads. (FYI, the early numbers were a guess since I did not note gender of the very first doula babies.) But as I dove deeper, I reacquainted myself with the stories behind every single bead. And I was humbled and overwhelmed. And the colors of the beads paled in comparison to the rainbow of hues represented in each journey.

Such a great number of these babies were born over many hours of difficult decisions that required their moms to let go and let the journey unfold. Some came in a straightforward way that was surprisingly normal, as far as birth goes. But is birth ever normal, really? Friedman’s Curve tries to put it in a box of expected duration and contraction pattern, but we all know that birth is inherently wild and unpredictable. There was the time that a baby was born in the parking lot, or the one born right outside the ER entrance, or the one most recently born in the bathroom of the hospital lobby. And there was the baby that was born in the foyer of the house before anyone got there because the shower was such an effective comfort measure, she relaxed herself into transition, and crawled out of the shower to give birth in the entryway. That was an accidental homebirth, by the way, not intended for home. Baby chose home. And I can’t forget the time, only once, where I was there at home alone with my client and realized too late it was time to leave for the hospital. (The midwife had told us to wait.) And my client’s water broke and I did what I had to do and I caught the baby. Then we called 911. It is the only time I ever caught a baby but even today remains one of the highlights of my life.

There have been tears. I’ve seen women cry tears of disappointment, defeat, fear, and sheer exhaustion. But I have also seen joyful tears of jubilation, euphoria, relief, and pure love at the sight of a child born. Fathers cry too, for all the reasons just listed and more. They shoulder a huge responsibility to keep their birth partner safe and cared for, and the baby makes that responsibility multiply in significance. It’s a lot on a person, especially the first time. And those daddy tears are moving.

I have sat outside OR doors with nervous fathers, retelling fond memories of their courtship, or confessing their fear and concern for the woman they love heading into surgery. I have picked up the pieces after a birth that didn’t go as expected, or a birth that went all wrong. I have walked through the wreckage of birth trauma and even the loss of life. The white beads in the jar are for the babies who did not survive. I remember them all by name. Those beads are the most precious of all.

I have also seen healing in birth. Many clients who experienced loss or trauma, sought my assistance to walk beside them to a new day, a birth that was healing and redeemed a previous experience that left a painful scar. Those births are like a salve. It never erases the previous experience but adds richness to it and can empower the one birthing and facilitate a solid postpartum recovery as well. Those births often bring tears to my eyes too. Those and the really long ones. They are a struggle for everyone. Being tired just makes everything more difficult.

As of today, my bead jar numbers 924 babies, but tomorrow it will contain 925 beads. I will keep counting to 1000. After that I’ll likely keep counting. I will never fill the jar. I would have to attend births for 20 more years at the busy pace I have maintained the last 10 or so. And I know I can’t do that. These beads have shown me all I have poured into my work over the years. And they have also reminded me painfully that my body can only do so much. One day I will have to stop the birth work. But not yet. Not today. I will keep going, but at a slower pace. I will continue to bear witness to the journey and stories contained within the beads of this jar, past, present, and future. You may see blue, pink, and white, but at their core, the beads are as varied as the subtle nuances of color in our technicolor world. Every birth as unique as the birther and the baby being born. And I am honored to be there for it.