Essays and Writings
in the doula spirit
A good friend recently told me that she could not imagine waking up in the middle of the night to go to a birth. She said that she did not know how I did it – being on call all the time, constantly having to plan for child care “just in case”, being with someone in labor for more than twenty-four hours without sleeping and barely eating . . . the list, as you know, goes on and on.
As she was talking, all I could think was that I could not imagine not doing it.
We doulas are an unusual breed. There is something deep within us that beckons us into the mysterious and magical world of birth, and then holds us there like a child captivated by her first glimpse of the ocean. We are awed, humbled, sometimes torn down and then uplifted by the births we are privileged to attend. It feeds our spirits, and we, in turn, give that back to all of the birthing women with whom we cross paths. Likewise, when a long and difficult birth drains our spirits, it is the women and their beautiful new babies who fill us up again and enable us to continue on this path.
I attended my initial doula training more than eight years ago. Since that time, I have had two more children of my own, been with nearly seventy birthing women and have been blessed to have found a wonderful doula partner with whom I share this incredible journey.
She and I often laugh and reminisce about the places we’ve been and people we’ve met while doula’ing.
We have slept on the couches and floors of countless strangers’ homes. We have been on midnight walks around unfamiliar neighborhoods while pausing for each contraction. We have cooked meals in other peoples’ kitchens and cleaned strangers’ bathrooms. We have had our shoes vomited upon and our shoulders cried upon. We have spent many hours in cramped bathrooms, darkened bedrooms and sterile-feeling hospital rooms providing unrelenting counter pressure to the backs of laboring clients. We have given nervous dads-to-be reassuring smiles and pats on the back that say “everything is just fine”. We have seen women give in to the intensity of birth and we have seen women fight it every step of the way. We have witnessed the distinct differences in births that occur in the home, hospitals and free-standing birth centers. We have had moms (and, once, even a dad) shamelessly disrobe in front of us and surrender to the primitive call of labor. We have watched siblings stare wide-eyed as their brother or sister enters the world. We have laughed, cried, bitten our tongues in frustration, been jump-out-of-your skin excited and been bone tired. What other job could provide such a range of raw emotion?
So, why is it, after all those late nights, missed holidays, and postponed vacations, is my doula flame not yet beginning to burn out? In fact, I am surprised and delighted to find that I still get a rush of “birth adrenaline” when I hear my cell phone ring in the middle of the night. I still find that being with a laboring woman is often like entering into an entirely new dimension. I still feel an incredible surge of excitement for the couples I’m with. Most surprisingly, I am still amazed every single time I witness an actual human being emerge from a woman’s body (as though I had never seen such a thing!).
When I am with a laboring woman, I am completely awash with the feeling that I am right where I am supposed to be, doing just what I am meant to do. I don’t always know the answers, but at each and every birth, I take away many valuable lessons that will help me the next time I am with a client. I have slowly learned to let my instincts guide me, just as I encourage the women I am with to listen to their own inner voices.
I realize daily that I could not do this work I feel called to do without the steadfast support of my family and friends. In eight years, my husband has never once balked at my going off to a birth; he simply rearranges his schedule, jumps in and takes care of everything while I’m gone. I am also fortunate to have a very good friend with whom I share child care responsibilities. When the need arises, I care for her three children and, she, in turn, cares for my three. In fact, the six children are together so often that they feel like they are one big family. In addition, my mom now lives with us. She is busy with her own blossoming career as a postpartum doula, but, when she is not working, she is a tremendous help to me and my family. Without my amazing support network, I would never have been able to continue doula’ing for so long.
My answer to the often asked question, “What is a doula anyway?” has changed over time. I used to go into great detail about all the things I had learned during my doula training – leaving people with a sort of glazed-over look in their eyes as I rattled on about statistics and comfort measures. Then, I adopted the standard response that I was a “professional labor coach”, providing women with physical, informational and emotional support. Sounds pretty official, huh? But my various responses never quite seemed to hit the nail on the head.
These days, I often tell people that I feel as though I am a tour guide through the Land of Labor. As someone who is familiar with the landscape, I can help laboring women and their loved ones navigate the often confusing and tumultuous path that leads to them to their final destination: the birth of their baby. I try to point out the sights along the way, I help them trouble shoot when bumps in the road are encountered, I suggest things that they can do to best enjoy the trip and I frequently give them a “heads up” for what is to come. However, like any good tour guide, I try my best to allow them to enjoy this intimate journey without intruding on their private moments. Though there is really no accurate way to put into words what it means to be a doula, I have found that this is an explanation most people understand, and, it always seems to spark their interest.
Time and again, I have seen emails, articles and letters signed with the phrase “In the Doula Spirit”. To be honest, when I first saw this, it seemed a bit new-agey to me. Eight years later, I am stunned to realize the truth held in those four words. Doulas do indeed have a certain spirit about them. I know that my doula partner certainly does, as I have seen it absolutely radiating from her pores when she is with any of our clients. I have seen it in the eyes and heard it in the voices of other doulas as they talk about birth. In fact, when a group of doulas are together, their combined energy seems to charge the atmosphere with a special kind of electricity.
I hope that the day never comes that I tire of this way of life. I hope that I am always able to be with laboring and birthing women and their loved ones. It provides such an intimate, tender glimpse of what life is really all about. I have found that it is impossible to leave a birth and not feel awestruck by the wonder of it all.
We care, we guide, we comfort, we give, we empower, we protect, we nurture, we listen, we celebrate and then we let go. And we do it over and over again. We do it with our voice, our hands, our hearts and our soul. We do it in the doula spirit.