Tending the Threshold: Midwifery, Motherhood, and the Liminal Lessons of Samhain
As the light fades and the veil between worlds grows thin, we arrive at Samhain — the ancient Celtic festival that marks the end of the harvest and the beginning of winter. Known today as Halloween, Samhain was once a sacred time of pause, reflection, and reverence for what had passed. It was a time when the boundaries between the seen and unseen blurred; when ancestors were honoured, hearths were tended, and fires lit to welcome the turning of the year.
Samhain reminds us that life is cyclical — not linear. That endings are not failures, but thresholds. That darkness is not to be feared, but embraced as the fertile ground from which all new life begins.
As an independent midwife in East Sussex, the rhythm of Samhain feels intimately familiar. Birth, too, is a crossing — a liminal space where two worlds meet, where time softens, and where what was once hidden becomes known. Midwifery is the ancient practice of tending that threshold. It is not just clinical care; it is a form of holding — of honouring what is sacred in the act of becoming.
Samhain, the Turning Point
Samhain (pronounced Sow-en) marks the final spoke on the Celtic Wheel of the Year. For centuries it was celebrated as the Celtic New Year — a time to give thanks for the harvest and prepare for the dark months ahead. People gathered around fires, shared food, told stories of ancestors, and reflected on what needed to be released before the earth turned inward once more.
Today, many celebrate Halloween without understanding its roots. The dressing up, the skeletons, the imagery of death — all echo a time when we sat in deeper relationship with life and death, trusting both as natural, cyclical, sacred.
In this sense, Samhain belongs deeply to women and to birth. It calls us to remember the rhythms of our bodies, our intuition, and our ancient role as life-bringers and threshold keepers. It whispers: tend your fire, rest in the dark, honour what has passed.
The Liminal Space
Anthropologists call it “the liminal space” — the threshold between what was and what is yet to be.
Birth is liminal. So is death. So is the space between contractions, between breaths, between who we were before we became mothers and who we are still becoming.
As midwives, we dwell in this space often — between the measurable and the mysterious, between the physical and the spiritual. Continuity of care allows us to stay present within it; to truly know our clients, so that we can discern when to act and when to simply be.
Just as Samhain teaches us to watch and wait, trusting the dark, so too does physiological birth teach us to honour the body’s rhythm without rushing it. Both require courage — and trust.
The Feminine Wisdom of Darkness
We live in a culture that resists darkness — that glorifies productivity, busyness, and constant light.
Yet in the natural world, nothing blooms all year round. There is a season for growth, and there is a season for rest.
Pregnancy, birth, and the postnatal period all echo this truth. The body knows when to open, when to pause, when to heal. As an independent midwife, I see again and again how rest and reverence allow healing to unfold — not through doing, but through being.
Samhain calls us back to this knowing. It invites us to soften into the quiet, to release our need for control, and to trust the sacred timing of life.
Continuity as a Sacred Practice
Continuity of care is, in many ways, an act of tending the threshold.
When you are cared for by someone who knows you — who has sat at your kitchen table, shared your hopes and fears, listened to your heartbeat and your baby’s — you are held in a web of safety and connection.
Safety is not the absence of risk. It is the presence of relationship.
This truth echoes through every part of midwifery and through every season of life.
Independent midwifery, though not accessible for everyone, offers something deeply ancient — a re-membering of how birth once was: relational, rhythmic, respected.
Just as our ancestors lit fires to guide souls safely through the dark, we too can light metaphorical fires — of care, of attention, of love — to guide women safely through the passages of birth and into motherhood.
Honouring the Thresholds in Our Lives
As the earth grows quiet, you might ask yourself:
What am I ready to release?
What am I still tending?
What seeds am I holding close, ready to plant when light returns?
Whether you are preparing for birth, in the postpartum cocoon, or years beyond that threshold, these questions help you live cyclically — in rhythm with nature, rather than against it.
We are all tending thresholds, all the time.
Sometimes between life and death. Sometimes between identities. Sometimes simply between one breath and the next.
Samhain reminds us that tending these thresholds — with love, courage, and patience — is sacred work.
A Modern Reflection
Today, Halloween can feel far removed from its origins — commercial, loud, performative. But underneath, the essence remains. It is a time for courage, for reflection, for tending the unseen.
In our hurried, bright world, reclaiming this sacred pause is a radical act. To gather, to reflect, to remember that we, too, are nature — ever changing, shedding, and being reborn.
For mothers, for midwives, for all who care, Samhain offers a whispered invitation: slow down, listen, and trust the turning.
Resources & Rituals for Samhain and the Threshold Season
Reading:
Podcasts:
The Wild Mother Podcast
Revolutionary Midwife
What Goddesses Watch
Instagram accounts to follow:
@birthsongmidwifery
@cloveryogapostpartum
@rachelreed_official
@themotherbeacon
@sarahwickhamuk
A simple Samhain ritual:
Light a candle.
Write down what you wish to release — habits, fears, griefs, expectations. Burn or bury the paper in the earth.
Cook something warm and grounding — soup with root vegetables, or baked apples with vanilla ice-cream.
Give thanks to your body for all it has carried, birthed, and tended this year.
