A Steadfast Heart

When I attended the first births after my initial doula training, I could never have imaged where that would lead. I was pretty green, adorably naive, and ready for anything...so I thought. Now years later, and after the last few weeks of back to back births I wish I could tell that brand new doula...this work will fill your heart, and it will also break it. Being part of one of the most powerful events of a family's life is something I can safely say, I am ready for and well prepared for. It's the rest of the ride and the surprises that birth always seems to have in store that have rocked me to my core and forced me to grow in ways I never knew I could. It's these surprises that allow me to keep learning, to be humble, and to be strong. No one told me how hard it would be. The idea of being a doula was undoubtably romanticized in my head all those years ago. The idea of holding a woman's hand as she labors, wiping her brow, reassuring the partner that "this is normal" and then letting out a group exhale when the baby arrives and starts crying out a birth song, that all seems so lovely. If only it was always that simple.

This work is something that I do because something deep inside draws me to it, even through the most heart wrenching births, I keep doing it. Family holidays are planned only when I'm off-call, dinner parties, birthday parties, coffee dates, meetings, they all come with the caveat of "as long as I'm not at a birth". And when I end up "at a birth", I'm all in. Being fully invested also means being vulnerable. It's hard not to invest a little piece of my heart with the birthing family. Breathing through contractions together, watching her swollen belly tighten and then release, saying something encouraging, or nothing at all, I'm there. Offering sips of water, a smile, a knowing glance before she closes her eyes to rest until the next contractions rises up again, and again, and again...I'm there. Sometimes, when I'm tucking the hair behind her ear and it's been a long journey and I miss my own family I think, I just hope that one day when my own daughter is birthing her babies that someone is there to tenderly tuck her hair behind her ear and just sit next to her and be there for her. There's an instant love for a birthing women that brews every time my phone rings and the voice on the other end says "it's time, can you be with us now?".  The Mother in me cares for birthing women with the same heart I care for my own babies with.

As Mothers, we are given many opportunities to dig deep and get through the challenges. I can only think of myself as being lucky to have been there to love some of those Mothers while they were starting their journeys with the births of their babies. It's those moments that are worth a thousand nights on a pull out chair bed.