My name is Julie, but I go by Wren. The name shift was inspired by my husband, who told me that as I was learning to move my life in my own direction, I was free to create my own identity in any way I wanted. I find wrens (and small birds in general) quite amusing with their short wings and bopping about. The spiritual meaning of the wren resonates with me - it represents determination, enthusiasm, change, and happiness. The Celts believed the wren's song was a message for the future, and I aspire to live with that same sense of adaptability and unseen resilience.

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I've been married for over 20 years and have two children. My son, Buck, is a witty, creative, and amazing high school student. My daughter, Scout, graduated in 2024. She has since married her high school boyfriend who is as much a family member as my own kids. Scout is too smart for her own good, which is why I affectionately refer to her as a nod to the character Scout Finch from Harper Lee's novel To Kill a Mockingbird. My husband and these kids are the heart of my world, and I grow more fond of them every day.

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For 8 years, we lived on a farm in Colorado, raising turkeys, chickens, ducks, and sheep. It was a time of great growth, not just for our livestock, but for our family as well. We've since scaled back to a homestead in West Virginia, but the lessons we learned on the farm remain. It was our experience with raising animals for food that ultimately led me to work as an End of Life Doula.

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When it came time to cull some of our turkeys for Thanksgiving meals, the decision was not one to be taken lightly. We loved these animals and had put great effort into ensuring they lived good lives. We chose which turkeys to keep based on their personalities, how well they functioned as a flock, and whether they got along with our other farm animals. Saying goodbye to the ones who would become our food was still difficult, but we were determined to maintain control over the entire process to ensure humane deaths and safe food handling. As the processing date approached, we offered our turkeys extra treats, personal attention, and opportunities for enrichment and play, wanting their final days to be as peaceful and meaningful as possible.

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This concept of providing great lives with one "bad day" has become the foundation for how I want to live my own life and the lives of the families I work with as an End of Life Doula. My goal is to help make whatever time we have left, whether decades or hours, as peaceful and meaningful as it can possibly be. Death is inevitable, but it doesn't have to be met with fear. The emotions we've been taught to avoid - fear, anger, sadness, longing - are all integral to our experiences, and we can feel them and still be complete.