Essays and Writings
On Becoming a Doula
I can remember the first time I heard the word "doula." A co-worker, expecting her third child, but her first in over eighteen years, was talking to me. She was talking about all the things that were "new" since the birth of her children years before.
"Have you ever heard of a 'doula'?" she asked.
"No," I said. I looked to her for an explanation.
She went on to explain what a doula was, and then finished the conversation with:
"The word 'doula' means a woman's servant. Isn't that a great word?"
I had to agree. The word, and the description behind it, intrigued me. A woman helping another woman in labor? Calming her? Comforting her? Reassuring her? Serving her? How beautiful. In reality, it wasn't a new idea at all. Just one that had been lost for too long. I casually tucked the word in the back of my mind, hoping to make use of it again one day.
It was a year before I recalled it again. When I did remember the term, I knew I'd recalled it too late. Sitting on the other side of a traumatic birth experience, I remembered that conversation from so long ago, and ached for not recalling it earlier. Calm. Comfort. Reassurance. Service. All the things that the birth of my daughter was not. I resolved it wouldn't happen again. And, it didn't. Two years later, I witnessed the calming comfort of a doula attending the birth of my son. She wasn't the only reason I had a positive experience, but she certainly was integral to that experience.
And now, I'm about to embark upon a journey to become that source of calm and comfort for others. A word, once tucked in the back of my mind, is now at the forefront, and may, one day, become essential to my own self-definition.
But why am I doing this? Is it out of some desire to heal my own pain? Certainly, the question must be asked. True, perhaps I would have never pursued this quest were it not for my experiences. Had I not experienced the trauma of that first birth, that word might have remained forever tucked in the back of my mind, lost to the ether that is insignificant encounter. But I did experience the trauma. And that encounter from so long ago became utterly significant to me. That trauma and my pain, then, might be the genesis of my journey. For that I am entirely grateful. But they are not part of this journey as I move forward. My pain is not behind me -- it never will be -- but I have come to gratefully accept it as a part of me. The journey towards my own healing, then, is complete. This journey -- becoming a doula -- is an entirely new pathway.
So, why, a doula then? I've thought about this often, and I can come up with only this answer: I believe in it. A simple answer, but a telling one. I believe in it. Those first thoughts upon hearing that word so long ago? They still ring true to me, louder now, than ever before. Nothing new, really. As old as Woman, actually. Calming. Comforting. Reassuring. If I can be this to someone else, and, in the process, let her come to know the power and beauty that she is herself, then I will have fulfilled my job. Nay, I will have fulfilled my passion.