imposing life

It’s a delicate place to stand—between love, medicine, and the natural rhythm of life.

Sometimes we are brought into the world without choosing it, and often we are kept here by the will and care of others. Our lives are held, extended, and shaped by the love and decisions of those around us.

Watching my grandfather at the end of his life has made me reflect on this deeply. At 93, he seems ready to go. He has lived, he is tired, and yet his family does everything possible to keep him here. If he forgets his medication, is that his way of letting go? And if we make sure the nurse gives it to him, are we supporting him—or preventing him from leaving? Where is the line between care and control, between forcing life and honoring someone’s readiness to go?

I find myself asking similar questions about birth. How often do we intervene with inductions or synthetic oxytocin? Of course, there are moments when medical intervention is necessary and lifesaving for both mother and baby. But are we always fully informed about the real risks and the real needs? When a woman’s body isn’t ready to give birth, do we pause to ask why? Is her body closed because it doesn’t feel safe yet? Because something in her environment, her nervous system, or her story is asking for more time?

I’m not rejecting medicine. I’m questioning where we place our trust. At what point do we rely more on intervention than on the intelligence of the body? How do we balance doing what is “right” medically with trusting nature, cycles, and the deep wisdom within us that has always known how to begin and how to end?

Perhaps the real question is not whether to intervene or not, but how to listen more closely—to the body, to the person, to the moment. How to support without forcing. How to accompany without controlling. How to love someone enough to help them live, and sometimes, to let them go.

With love,
Marine Sélénée