I've caught countless babies. Why do I have nothing left to give?

You have spent years standing in the room where life begins and, too often, where it ends. You have held mothers who lived and mothers who grieved. That work does not run on the same fuel as ordinary labor — and yours is low. Notice what you are doing right now: naming the exhaustion instead of hiding it. Good. But naming is not enough. You did not run dry by accident — you gave without limit and called it virtue. It was not virtue. It was neglect of the one person you owed care to as much as any patient: yourself. If the weight you carry includes grief you have not put down — deaths you attended, losses you absorbed — that is not something to work through alone at a desk. Find someone trained to help you carry it. What follows here is about the daily choices that either refill you or drain you further.