Doula-ing...it sucks not being a super hero

Okay, so I love my job.  I love helping moms achieve the kind of birth they want.  I love seeing the look in their eyes as their baby is being born.  I love hearing a newborn cry.  I love watching a woman labor down, utilizing the tricks of the trade.  I love hearing a woman say, "I did it!" and "Hi baby.  It's your momma.  I love you."
Then there are days like this.  Days where a beautiful first time momma heads to the hospital intending to birth naturally and without complications...but ends up with every intervention known to man.  Broken-hearted and beaten-down she looks to you for answers, but all you can do is give her information to make her own choice.  Don't get me wrong, information is a very powerful thing.  Letting the momma make a decision with all the information on the choices available at hand is such an empowering gift.  But, when she and her husband are looking at you, not knowing what choice to make, my job sucks.  I want to tell her to get up and walk out and go find a midwife and have a home birth right now.  I want to tell her to keep on trucking because she can do this, she IS doing it.  And I do tell her that.  But she is defeated.  She's tired.  She's hungry.  She's tethered and hep locked.  She's on pit and has an epi.  Her legs are numb and her belly aches.  And then all you can do is watch as they wheel her down the hall, prepped for surgery. 
Then you remember that you're there for support.  And you've done that.  You've provided her with information to make educated choices.  That is your job.  You've applied counter-pressure.  You've massaged. You've listened and validated.  You've supported her decisions.  You've cried in your car on the drive home.