
As a Death Doula, these words reflect the heart of my work and the symbolism woven into my imagery – a steady mountain silhouette with a rising star.
It is the promise that no one walks this path alone. Guided in Ascent honors the upward journey each person makes – toward clarity, peace, and ultimately a gentle release. The star represents that quiet point of light we all move toward, while the mountain reminds us that even the hardest paths can be softened with companionship, compassion, and reverence for the moment.

Fear and confusion usually come from not knowing what’s ahead or who to turn to. Experience is the antidote – knowing how to handle what’s in front of you now, and how to head off the hard patches before they arrive. That’s the peace of mind I’m here to bring. Here’s how I help:
Building a plan of care that actually fits you. We start with where you are today… what you’re facing, what you hope for, what you’d rather avoid – and shape a plan around your real life, not a template.
Advocating for your wishes with every member of your care team, so what matters to you doesn’t get lost in the shuffle.
Smoothing the hard conversations – the ones between you and your care team, and the tender ones within your own family. Some are just hard to start. I’ll be right there with you, and when a conversation stalls, we’ll find another way in.
Being the steady presence who stays. Doctors and nurses rotate; I don’t. I’m the one who’s with you through the whole of it… the steadfast hand and the open heart, so your family feels heard and never alone in it.
Telling you the truth about what to expect. So much fear comes from not knowing what’s normal. I’ll walk you through what’s coming before it arrives, so nothing catches you off guard.

Not for aging, and not for helping someone you love reach the end of their life. So most families improvise, making big decisions in a hurry on the hardest days, while the questions circle quietly at 2 a.m.
It doesn’t have to be that way. So much of the weight is really just the not-knowing and a lot of it lifts once you say things out loud to someone who isn’t afraid of them. We’ll go at your pace, have the conversations that keep getting put off, and sort things out a little at a time.
The care you take now becomes a quiet gift to the people you love, so that one day they won’t be left guessing.
A daughter called me last spring. The first thing she said was, “I’m feeling like I’m in over my head. Mom wants to die at home. Hospice is here but everything seems like it’s going wrong.”
Hospice was already there. That’s the part most people miss. She wasn’t shopping for a service she didn’t have. She was missing someone who could tell her what was happening, what was coming next, and what to do about it. She needed a place to ask the questions she was afraid to talk about.
So we met for coffee and she walked me through it.
That’s where I start. Not with an assessment. With coffee, and you telling me what’s actually going on.
Then I go to work. I read the hospice folder with you, page by page, including the blue book nobody opened. I help you find the words for the conversation you’ve been dreading. I build a real schedule out of the people around you so it isn’t all landing on you at 3 a.m. And between nurse visits, I’m watching.
That last part is the whole reason to hire me. I was a hospice nurse in career. I see the bumps in the road early. One man was losing his balance on the way to the kitchen with his walker. His nurse had assessed him the day before, sitting in a chair. She never saw him walk. I did.
You don’t need the right words. You don’t need to know where to begin. You need somebody in the room who’s been in the room before.
Most people put this off because it feels grim, like tempting fate. It’s the opposite. Once it’s done, you stop carrying it. And your family never has to stand in a hallway wondering what you would have chosen.
Aging rarely arrives all at once. It’s the slow pile-up of appointments, changes, and decisions that wears a family down. Maybe your mother’s here and you’re four states away. Maybe you’re the one in the house and you’re running low.
The family thinks they should know what to do, and it’s frightening to find out they don’t. That’s not a failing. Nobody’s done this before.
I have…
Grief doesn’t move in a straight line. It ambushes you in the cereal aisle on an ordinary Tuesday. There’s no timeline and no right way to do it, and you don’t have to pretend you’re further along than you are.

If you’ve found me, you’re likely in a season of uncertainty, a wide range of emotions, and the sense that you need to figure some things out sooner rather than later.
Elder Care Doula, Specialized Companion, Death Doula, Death Midwife, End-of-Life Doula… I answer to many names and wear several hats, all meant to meet you exactly where you are right now, in this moment.
This was my calling long before I knew there was a name for it. Looking back, it’s as if the path kept quietly presenting itself – opportunity after opportunity to grow into this work over the course of my life.
If you’ve reached the point where you simply need someone at your elbow, you’re in the right place.

Tara I.