The In-Between
If there is an existence beyond this one, the “in-between” of birth and death offers a glimpse into what it might be.
Jean Corlett: October 1924 - May 2024
My grandmother, Jean Corlett (known to her grandchildren as “Nan”), was born in October 1924 in Seaham Harbour in the north of England. Her father was a coal miner who ventured to Australia looking for work shortly after Nan was born. Nan, her mother, and older sister, Maude, moved to Australia a few years later.
It was a tough life that forged a tough lady. Despite having to leave school at the age of 15 to help support the family, she was highly intelligent and entrepreneurial. Her talents and positive disposition led to a happy life and a loving family.
A couple of months ago, Nan passed away gracefully and peacefully at the age of 99 years and 7 months.
The days around her passing felt so sacred. It was raw and real, grounding and peaceful. She was surrounded by her family, and it felt like we were also embraced by a greater presence, one that felt connected to Nan and all of us.
Hayes William Corlett: May 4th 2024
At the same time, we were blessed with a new life in this world, baby Hayes William Corlett, our third child. Having one child is a huge blessing, having three is really something special.
His journey into this world was a few days short of forty weeks. On the day of his birth, I felt that same sense of sacredness that I felt with Nan’s passing. It was raw and real, grounding and (mostly!) peaceful. There was that same feeling of a greater presence.
Mel birthed Hayes at home. So, like Nan, he was surrounded by his family in a safe and familiar environment for his transition from the world he knew to the one he is in now.
The in-between
Having two major life events within such close proximity has brought up much to reflect on. At face value, they appear to be a coincidence of opposites—life and death. But, instead of feeling that these events were two ends of a spectrum, they felt like two parts of a whole—like the inhale and exhale of a breath. They shared the same feeling of sacredness. They both felt like they connected this physical world to an existence and “life” beyond it.
The phrase “the in-between” was introduced to me by Hadley Vlahos, a hospice nurse who wrote the book with that title. “The in-between” is the period immediately before and after someone passes. That period can be days or weeks on either side of the physical body dying.
Death is a process, not an event. During this period, I believe one is in between this physical existence and whatever comes next. Through my own experience, I have come to believe that death is a transition between two different forms of consciousness and two different perspectives on our existence.
“The in-between” can make it possible for the dying to touch both sides of these two forms of consciousness; to see and communicate with loved ones who have passed when they are still predominantly on this side; and to see and communicate with us as they transition to the other side.
I felt this shift with Nan as she peacefully passed to whatever was next for her. I like to think that her mum and dad were there to receive her, that she could finally meet her twin sister who died at birth, and that my grandfather, Jim, was there to embrace her and join her for the next adventure as he had always done in this world.
It was through this lens—being surrounded by loved ones on either side—that I felt so strongly the commonality with Hayes joining us.
Birth is a process, not an event
Birth is a process, not an event. There is, objectively, an “in-between”—the period from conception to the weeks immediately after a baby comes into this world.
During Mel’s pregnancy with Hayes, he was surrounded by the beautiful, loving mayhem and chaos that is our family environment. Hayes heard the voices, laughter, screaming and crying that fill our home every day. From his perspective, these sounds would have just been associated with the safe, happy place where he was growing to prepare for birth.
I can imagine birth might be scary for a baby. It’s a huge transition. I think about death in the same way. It is a transition where we don’t have the full perspective; we move from the known to the unknown.
If there was any fear for Hayes, it dissipated almost instantly as his mum held him on her chest and his brother and sister jumped into the birth pool and smothered him with love.
In the weeks following Hayes’s birth, I watched him awaken to the new world around him. It was a gradual transition from the “in-between”. He now understands that those sounds were more than just noises—they are the voices, laughs and cries of the people who love him.
Birth and death
During the “in-between” of Nan’s passing and Hayes’s birth, I felt a profound connection to something greater—a spiritual force momentarily tethering the family that had come before and the family yet to come. I felt the inhale of a breath with Hayes and the exhale of a breath with Nan.
Nan’s passing felt as much like a new beginning as it did an end. I know for Mel in particular that Hayes’s birth felt as much like an end as it did a beginning.
These are sacred moments in life. If there is an existence beyond this one, the “in-between” of birth and death offers a glimpse into what it might be. But even if there isn’t, these moments are opportunities to feel reverence and gratitude for the life we have now, and the new beginnings that will follow after us once our time on this Earth is done.