Back in 2018, two boys, who were brothers, set off on a hunting trip to the other side of the country, and they never came home. They were from our town. 

I still cannot find the words that would clearly describe the distress that I feel when I think about these boys, and what took place during this nightmare that I'm sure their parents cannot awake from. To lose one child is cruel enough but to lose two children at the same time, at the same moment, must be hell transformed and residing within your heart and your entire being. 

I read this morning that they had found bone fragments that belonged to one of the boys and they had finally now, after two years concluded that they had identified the remains and notified the family. All these years of not knowing what happened, where they are, are they alive, are they injured, are they dead? It must rip you apart in ways that cannot be described, in ways that cannot be mended. It must destroy a person. 

As a parent, as a mother, my heart breaks for this family, for their mother, for those boys. I pray that they find the other son and that they find closure somehow. I find solace in imagining the two of them together, wherever they are, at peace and reminiscing over the countless trips that they had as children with their Dad. 

My Grandmother was one of these extraordinary women...

Recently, I had been looking for something new to watch on Netflix and the women at work had recommended "Call the Midwife". They had all watched it during the height of the pandemic and loved it. So.. I dove right in and fell in love.

It takes place in the aftermath of WWII in the East End neighborhood of Poplar, London. A very poor section of London. The show is based on the memoir written by one of the main characters, Jenny, and also narrated by her. A memoir that invites you into the lives of not only the midwives, but also the lives of the families that they cared for, their trials and tribulations, their struggles, their joy and pain, their hopes and despair, and also in their times of grief. 

The midwives live in Nonnatus House, a convent that is also the headquarters if you will of their work in midwifery and nursing. The nuns who reside there are also midwives. When I first sat down and started watching, I wasn't so sure I would like the characters portrayed by the nuns. That's what happens when you are raised in Catholic schools, nuns aren't always your favorite people. You remember them as harsh, unkind, and insensitive. But.. the sisters of Nonnatus were the exact opposite. I found them to be compassionate, understanding, loving, and so supportive of these young midwives and the mothers that they cared for. A reflection of the humanity, and their true commitment to service and their calling, that they contained and maintained within the habit and the church. 

These midwives were extraordinary women. On their own, they all contained this unwavering strength, and a deep compassion, which included a world view that enabled them to support these mothers of all walks of life, different situations, different living conditions, in times of uncertainty, and care for them with grace and humility and without judgement. Together they were a force to be reckoned with, especially during a time when women, girls, and mothers, were not even a second thought. These midwives were their voices. With the guidance of the Sisters, no problem was ever too big or too small. 

I also have to make a note of Dr. Turner, who is the General Practitioner in Poplar. He is the kindest, sweetest, caring, most compassionate doctor, father, husband, man. He is also a most valuable voice and advocate for all his patients and the citizens of Poplar. Many times he would open a door that would normally stay closed off to a female voice or concern. 

The stories that are told give you such an eye opening view, an awakening, of what life was like for women during a time that really wasn't so long ago. It touches upon pregnancy of course, maternity medicine, disease, illegal abortion, birth control, abandonment, prostitution, birth defects caused by  medicines prescribed during pregnancy, rape, sexual abuse, domestic violence, discrimination, sexism, misogyny, homophobia, alcoholism, mental health, and so much more. Our grandmothers, mothers, aunts, they all lived during that time, had babies during that time, struggled as women during that time. They all wrestled with similar problems, situations, and uncertainty. They suffered and struggled for just about everything. You realize how much times have changed, how much medicine has changed, but deep down you still wonder.. have times really changed that much, or have they changed enough, or do we still have a long way to go? 

As I binge watch through all the seasons, I'm on season seven of nine, I find myself thinking of my grandmother more and more. My grandmother as a young woman was also a midwife in her town. She shared this huge responsibility with a close friend of hers, who also lived there. A small, rustic, poor town where a doctor wasn't always available or close for that matter, no phones, no ambulances. I start imagining the stories she would tell, wondering if they're similar to the stories portrayed in this show. I wonder how many babies she delivered, how many she lost. How did she come to be a midwife? Did the other women volunteer her or was there just a need and they had no one else? I wish I could ask her these, and many other questions. I find it hard to fathom the courage, and the confidence it would take to undertake such a responsibility. 

My grandmother was one of these extraordinary women.