Anna Bunting left this life on November 27, 2024, for the mysteries of death that had always interested her. She was a gifted midwife, health practitioner, and hospice nurse, a devoted sister, a good and reliably frank friend, a life-changing mentor, a champion and “auntie,” and a feisty, funny, irreverent force of nature.
From 1980, Anna was a partner in Santa Barbara Midwifery and was a founding member of the Santa Barbara Birth Center. Her contribution to midwifery in Santa Barbara was crucial to its beginnings. She attended some 3,000 births, conducted countless well-woman exams, and shepherded many through their last days on earth. Her hands welcomed life into the world and comforted the dying as they left. She was a consummate giver of care.
Anna was a woman of strong opinions. There was a “right” way to serve tea, butter a scone, or dress for a walk on the beach. As she prepared for death, she made clear that she did not want a tribute or an obit, no celebration of life or memorial gathering. She hated boxes and did not want to be put in one, not one made out of words or out of pine. She half-begrudgingly said I could write this if I really wanted to, but the truth is that I would have done it with or without her blessing. Anna taught a whole tribe of us to love fiercely, to stand up for ourselves, and just how to say, with a smile, “Too bad. I’m doing it anyway.”
Decades ago, I went to see Anna at her home for my first well-woman exam. I had no idea an annual visit could be so full of care and tenderness. Unlike the cold, clinical experiences I had had all my life, she touched my shoulder, spread a soft flannel sheet over my knees, and said, “You have a lovely uterus!” I spoke with so many women who shared fond memories of being seen by Anna. She changed our experience and our expectations of health care.
She crafted exquisite beauty wherever she went. Decorated in every shade of violet, lilac, amethyst, and lavender, her sitting room inevitably held bouquets of flowers, candles burning, or some whimsical offering of unexpected beauty. The way she served cookies or offered you wine, cheese, and crackers made you feel like royalty. She created environments that came straight out of fairy tales.
More than two decades ago, she started a women’s group, the “Biscuits.” On annual retreats, we explored different paths of spirituality, kindness, compassion, and forgiveness. Discussions on how to live fully, love well, laugh more, and prepare for death were punctuated by long meals, games of poker, and shopping trips. She was, and always will be, our mentor in living and dying. All of us in the Biscuits, and so many others, considered Anna as a teacher and a sister. Her heart knew how to make family out of friends.
Mary Ellen, her much adored and only sister by blood, came from the East Coast to be with her oldest sibling in the last months of her life. She couldn’t get over the number of people who came to see Anna, the amount of expressed gratitude for birth experiences, healthy babies, accompanied deaths, and friendship of one kind or another. It seemed half the town came to say goodbye.
Anna had this way of seeing more in people than what they saw in themselves. I know she did that for me, and now I know that she did that for countless others. I’ve heard from women who say they became midwives because of her. Others said they were able to navigate the most difficult times of their lives with resolve, humor, and grace because of her guidance. Women endured pain and brought babies into the world with her reassurance that all would be well. People lost their fear of death because of her gift for helping them through it.
But Anna wasn’t just a wonderful midwife, health practitioner, hospice nurse, sister, and friend. She was an individualist, a rebel, and could be a contrarian. She had a multitude of interests. She was a fine seamstress (she used to reassure women as she stitched them up after birth, “Don’t worry, I won a sewing competition!”) and handworker, a Grateful Dead fan (yes — what a long, strange trip it’s been!), and a lover of detail. She made everywhere she went a bit more beautiful: meditation halls, friends’ houses, a picnic spread, a birthing room. She lived life fully, and on her own terms. She doesn’t fit into a few words.
There are so many things we are going to miss: the way she threw her head back and laughed; the hand-knitted socks she made; her playful mischievousness; what it felt like to share a glass of wine and discuss a book, or a birth or a death; and her unabashed generosity; her deep appreciation of nature and her love of birds; and the way she could spend hours and hours contentedly floating on a lake.
Anna loved poetry, and in particular I remember her loving this poem by Raymond Carver:
And did you get what
you wanted from this life even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
Anna felt herself beloved on the earth because she was.
Our community mourns.
A memorial will be held on Sunday, March 16 at 2 p.m. in Space 5 at Tucker’s Grove Park (4800 Cathedral Oaks Rd., Santa Barbara). All who knew and loved Anna are welcome. Please RSVP to: annabmemorial@gmail.com so the organizers can have an approximate headcount. Donations in Anna’s honor can be made to the Anna Bunting Midwifery Fund to support access to Midwifery Care in care of the Santa Barbara Birth Center, sbbirthcenter.org.
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