Sister Monica Joan is taking on the issue of ageism with great passion. Despite concerned protests from her colleagues, she steps up to help during the gastroenteritis breakout. She does so brilliantly, using her honed skills to assess an infant’s danger then wisely steps back to allow her younger colleagues to do their job, and a precious baby is rescued.

“I am not merely ancient, I am wise”, she declares to the board of examiners after apologizing for the intrusion of their meeting with Phyllis Crane. I don’t take her apology seriously. I hear no regret in her tone just as she heard no respect in the tone of the examiners. She is not a bit sorry for her deliberate insertion into the room to support her friend, her colleague, her sister in purpose. I delighted as Sister pointed out that, despite the board’s questioning of fitness to serve due to advanced age, Phyllis was junior to all in the room. Not just wise; she is sly.

Stepping back, this week, from the heavy history of the midwifery profession, I focus on my own history within midwifery. I did not reach the age of three score and ten before my retirement as did Sister Monica Joan. A score of years is twenty, if you did not know. There are many factors that go into a decision to retire, including family, health, alternative goals, and passions. Calls to purpose take many forms. Before my retirement, I worked with a wise midwife past the usual age of retirement and she was a rock to our practice just as Phyllis is described as the backbone of Nonnatus House.

I offer tribute to Thersa O’Rourke, my mentor and trailblazer, as one of the first licensed and credentialed certified nurse-midwives in Michigan. I knew of Thersa’s legacy before I met her. In the early 1980s she cared for the women in Oak Park, a suburb north of Detroit, housing a concentrated community of conservative Jews.

When Thersa’s practice moved to a neighborhood far from her Jewish patrons, the birth center where I worked as staff nurse, took in many of her clients who sought a culturally and religiously respectful birth environment. It was from them I heard Thersa’s name invoked with gratitude as they relayed their birth experiences with their trusted midwife and expectations for subsequent births.

In the 1990s, Thersa became one of my several formidable preceptors during my midwifery education. Upon graduation, I practiced near Royal Oak and continued to care for those whose first exposure to nurse-midwifery was in Thersa’s competent care. Thus, I built my own midwifery practice on her sturdy shoulders.

In the new century, at the end of Thersa’s career, when she was well into her seventies, I worked side by side with her as a colleague in the same practice. I am grateful for her steadfast wisdom. She inspired many to trust the importance and impact of their work with birthing women. She now enjoys the peace and comfort of a well-earned retirement. She professes no need of a uniform to know who she is.

Before my own retirement, I attempted to pass on that wisdom to those who came behind me; the student midwives, resident physicians and any who crossed my path. Legacy is not just what we do but what we inspire others to do. I want those midwives and others to stand on my shoulders to view their rightful place in their profession and society, then guide and inspire those behind. And I want all the ancient and wise souls in our world to continue to do the same. If we can slip in some slyness, all the better.