Gathering Bones: The Pause Before Change

We've made it. The end of 2025.

What a year. Some were tested in ways they never anticipated. Others experienced the year they'll always remember—welcoming a child, getting pregnant after a long fertility journey, birthing a book, or fulfilling a life-long dream. It's been a wide range.

And if you're anything like me, you're feeling it all right now.

I get reflective this time of year. Maybe it's because I was born between Christmas and New Year's, or maybe it's just the end-of-year programming built into us. There's something about this week that puts me deeply in my feels. Does it do that to you too?

The Liminal Space Between Years

This time between Christmas and New Year's is profoundly liminal—transitional, uncertain, ready for change. The word comes from the Latin limen, meaning threshold.

Maybe I become melancholic this week because the stimulus is stronger now. All that's been weathered, experienced, and lived in 2025 comes flooding in to be felt.

Like pregnant clients standing on the edge of what was, transitioning into what they can't yet know, we're looking into 2026 with only broad strokes. We actually know nothing of what will truly occur. Navigating the unknown is part of the journey.

Finding Guidance in Story

So what do I do when I want to make sense of the tangle inside me? I find a guiding story. This year, that story is La Loba, the Bone Woman.

La Loba is one of those stories that lives like a small animal inside the chest. You can go a long time without thinking about it, and then suddenly it stirs. A glint in the sand. A bone you didn’t expect. A season that asks you to slow down and listen for what is asking to be restored.

In this episode, I tell the story of La Loba and sit with the parts that matter most, not as a literary exercise, but as a way of finding guidance. Stories are not meant to be “understood” like a math problem. They are meant to be entered, chewed, felt, and lived with.

Gathering Bones The Pause Before Change podcast episode

The story of La Loba

It is said that in the deserts and arroyos near the borderlands, an old woman roams alone. She is bent and weathered, sometimes large of body, often overlooked. You might pass her without a second glance.

But she is doing sacred work.

She is gathering bones.

She finds them half-buried in sand, scattered in dry riverbeds, tucked beneath stones. She gathers the bones of many creatures, but her favorite are the bones of the wolf. Day after day, she searches. Sometimes she goes digging for what she knows is there. Sometimes she trips on what she did not anticipate. Sometimes a bone catches the sun and calls her attention.

She brings the bones back to her cave and begins to assemble them.

One bone at a time, she reconstructs the skeleton. A leg. A hip. A spine. Ribs. A skull. She works patiently, not knowing how long it will take. She does not rush. She does not demand that it be finished by a certain date.

And then, one day, the skeleton is complete.

This is the part many people miss. The part many of us resist.

She does not immediately move to the next phase.

She waits.

She waits for a song to come into her heart.

Because bones alone are only structure. They are shape without breath. They are possibility without vitality. La Loba sits with what she has built and waits until the song arrives, the song that belongs to this moment, the one that can bring life back into what is assembled.

And when the song comes, she sings.

As she sings, something astonishing happens. The bones begin to knit. Muscle returns. Tendons reconnect. Skin forms. Fur grows back. Breath enters the body. Life returns, not through force, but through song. Through presence. Through devotion.

The wolf reanimates.

And then the wolf runs.

It runs across the desert, moving farther and farther toward the horizon. And as it reaches that far edge of sight, whether by sunlight or mystery, the wolf becomes a wild woman.

Britta Bushnell Quote

The takeaways: Bones, Pause, Song

When I sit with La Loba, I always ask: what juicy morsel is calling to me today? Which motif grabs my attention and won’t let go? That is often where the medicine is.

Here are three takeaways I keep returning to.

1) The bones are what you have lived

The bones are what remains after life has moved through you. They are the durable pieces. The experiences you cannot pretend didn’t happen. The truths that persist even after the soft parts have been worn down.

Some bones you go looking for. You choose the lesson. You seek the growth. You willingly dig.

Other bones you trip on. You didn’t ask for them. You didn’t want them. They arrive anyway.

This matters because so many of us judge ourselves for the bones we didn’t choose. We call them detours, disappointments, failures. La Loba does not sort bones into worthy and unworthy piles. She gathers what is there. She understands that the whole creature cannot be made from only the convenient pieces.

So a question to sit with is simple and profound: what bones have you gathered? Which ones did you choose, and which ones chose you?

2) The pause is not a mistake

After the skeleton is assembled, La Loba waits. This is not a delay in the story. It is the story.

The pause is the place where many of us feel stress. We want momentum. We want progress we can measure. We want the “after” without honoring the “between.”

But there is wisdom in waiting when the bones are in place and the song has not yet come into the heart. Waiting is not weakness. It is the willingness to let something true arrive rather than forcing something false.

3) The song is what animates

The song is not decoration. It is not a finishing touch. It is the animating force.

Sometimes the song is literal, a creative act, a voice reclaimed, a truth finally spoken. Sometimes it is less obvious. It can be rest. It can be friendship. It can be grief fully felt. It can be a return to the body. It can be asking for help. It can be letting yourself be met.

The question is not “What should my song be?” The question is “What song is asking to be sung?”

Britta Bushnell Quote

A final reflection

La Loba does not rush. She gathers what is real. She assembles what has been lived. She waits without apology. She sings when the song arrives. She watches the wildness return.

If you find yourself longing for the horizon, for the part where the wolf runs and becomes the wild woman, remember that the running only comes after the bones, after the pause, after the song.

And if you are not running right now, that does not mean you are failing.

It may simply mean you are gathering.

Or waiting.

Or listening for the song.

Resources Mentioned in This Episode

  • The story of La Loba is drawn from Clarissa Pinkola Estés’ Women Who Run With the Wolves.

Continue your exploration with more Transformed by Birth podcast episodes, and connect with us on Instagram @transformedbybirth where the conversation keeps unfolding.

 

About Dr. Britta Bushnell

is a writer, teacher, storyteller, and mentor who blends her eclectic training, years of experience, and areas of study into a unique offering for individuals, couples, professionals, and groups. Britta is currently deep at work writing her forthcoming book, Transformed by Birth: Illuminating cultural ideals to enhance the experience of childbirth.