Most people come to end-of-life work after a loss.
I did too—through two kinds of surrender: first to chronic pain, and later to my mother’s dying. Between them, I learned that when we feel powerless, intention can be the difference between fear and presence.
In mid-life, I was blindsided by a chronic pain condition that came out of nowhere. I spent days in bed. I missed many days from my job—and it even impacted my ability to be there for my children.
I did what you are supposed to do. I went to my doctor and to many specialists. I tried medications. I subjected myself to test after test. I researched invasive procedures that doctors suggested. At my lowest point, I remember being told—while I was in excruciating pain on an exam table—that it might all be in my head.
It was a lonely place to be.
And it was the beginning of a different way forward.
Listening to My Body
For the first time, I stepped off the path of traditional medicine and began to work with my body more intentionally. I changed how I ate. I went to acupuncture. I started spending time in nature every day. My pain didn’t go away but something inside softened. So, I kept going.
I began exploring holistic practices—yoga, sound healing, creative movement, ancestral work, and shamanic healing. Nothing was instant, but I wasn’t searching for a quick fix. I was searching for the wisdom my pain was pointing toward.
Slowly, things began to shift. The pain receded. And eventually, it disappeared and never came back.
I didn’t know it then, but learning to listen—to pain, to breath, to what was true beneath fear—was training for the kind of presence I now offer others at the end of life.
Witnessing the Gaps
Not long after my own body began healing, my mother got sick.
For two years, I was her primary caregiver through Stage IV cancer. I had no medical background. Yet I had to learn how to help her in a time of high stress and through my own grief. I was raising children at the same time, and I felt sandwiched between what my mother needed and what my children needed – and exhausted from trying to hold all of it with love.
Like many families, we assumed the system would cover what mattered most. Between the hospital, rehab centers, and specialists, surely her needs would be met.
And then we learned what so many people learn in real time.
There were gaps everywhere.
When my mother began home hospice, I was naïve enough to believe a nurse would be with us for hours each day. Instead, hospice visits were brief—one or two hours a week—and the rest of the time was up to our family and the hours we could afford with a private caregiver.
We had no experience with how to support someone through serious illness. We were devoted and we did our best. But we quickly became exhausted.
We were 100% focused on supporting my mother’s medical care. We didn’t have the time or guidance to pause long enough to ask the deeper questions.
How was my mother feeling emotionally?
What was she thinking while she went through all these procedures and tests?
At what point did she realize she was dying and did she hide that realization to protect us?
Even though we surrounded her all the time with our physical presence, did she feel alone?
Why I Created Cardinal Light Doula Services, LLC
After I had time to reflect on how we cared for my Mom, I wished I hadn’t been so full of fear. I wish I had known how to create more room for her own wishes and intentions. We followed the medical path laid out before us because we trusted it, and because we didn’t know how or when to question it. Looking back, I can see how easily the goal of prolonging life can take over before a family has had the chance to ask what kind of life, what kind of time, and what kind of ending their loved one wants.
I wish we had conversations earlier over whether that was how my Mom wanted to spend the rest of her precious time. I wish we had spent more time talking about what she wanted to carry forward and what she wanted to leave behind after she was gone.
I created Cardinal Light Doula Services, LLC to offer the kind of guidance and presence I wish we had. I am proud to serve as a death doula in my community of Baltimore, Maryland and the surrounding areas.
I offer elevated, non-medical support for those approaching the end of life—steady presence, practical guidance, and space for the conversations we tend to postpone. I support you so you can find clarity, meaning, and intention during this transition.
If you sense that the end of your life deserves the same care and intention you’ve given to living, I invite you to reach out to me and schedule a free 30-minute consultation.