Reflection: 100 Births

I drove home from my 100th birth feeling tired but proud, with that otherworldly feeling of spending a day in the liminal space of birth lingering as the clouds of Canadian wildfire smoke swirled around me. What does it mean to welcome babies as the world burns around us?

Maximum dystopia on my drive home

I have been looking forward to crossing this threshold since I was a baby doula in 2020 who got turned down by a potential client because they were looking for someone who had been to "at least 100 births." I was crushed. I knew I would be good if given the chance, but for those first births it is hard to find people who trust you with such a vulnerable moment in their lives. Being at a birth is an honor. I appreciate all those folks for being picky and finding the right fit for them. I ended up a all the births I was supposed to be at.

A baby doula at birth #2 in Brooklyn, 2020, wearing a homemade cloth mask that I sewed myself

At 25 births I was no longer new. I remember understanding why that is a number often quoted as the threshold that ends the beginning of doula work. By that milestone, I was rarely stumbling through data to answer every question. Births stopped feeling like a high stakes arena for learning where I grasped breathless at my training. I had seen some major complications. Knew the general cadence of unmedicated birth. Supported cesareans. I started to feel the rhythm of birth, even if every individual one was a different song.

My 25th birth was a seamless induction that went quickly. The biggest hiccup was the door latch. The handle was so busted that the door kept opening. My client was unmedicated so let's just say that everyone could hear that she was in transition, which is probably why maintenance kept coming to check if they could work on the door. We just kept sending them away.

A lesson: Often birth just works and there is nothing you can do to quiet that rhythm.

Me with family number #33 (and who later also became family #71)

As I crept toward 50, I was more and more settled in Chicago. I had started to build a community in this home away from home. I had referrals. Providers recognized me. The gays had found me. My people! The more births I went to, the more confident I felt. Now I could hear the rhythm and pick out different instruments in the song. The trumpet of hospital birth, the bass of home. The orchestra was starting to make sense to me.

My 50th birth was one of those appointments-that-turns-into-an-induction. My clients called me panicked. Understandably. The pregnant person headed to triage. I sent a message to the partner who was driving home alone to get the birth bag with some fast ways to settle their nervous system:

1. Call a trusted friend

2. Take a quick shower

3. Crank some music & sing along

4. Drink water

5. Take 10 deep breaths

6. Spend a few minutes with your pet

7. Eat something

8. Scream

I was working hard on my own nervous system so that I could guide others through crisis moments. I knew that I could not get caught up in the urgency. During that birth I witnessed a beautiful and powerful unmedicated birth, AND the most intense postpartum complication I had seen to date (retained placenta).

A lesson: Birth contains multitudes. Thank goodness for life saving medicine that turns an emergency into a mere complication.

Me at birth #53 captured by the talented Erin Loughlin

Then, at 75 births I started to get reactions like, "WOW OH MY GOD THAT IS SO MANY BIRTHS!" I began to wonder if the difference between 75 and 100 would be discernible. In a field where there everyone is on 24/7 call, there is a lot of burn out. Many doulas don't make it past their 5 certification births. And yet, there are many wise ones in my Chicago community who have much more experience than me. Thank goodness for people like Sue Gottschall who have been doing this work since before I was born. Right as my confidence was rising, I realized that birth will always leave me wide-eyed and guessing. As a lifelong learner, that is one of the things I love about birth: you never arrive. Ok, the orchestra makes sense, but what about the symphony?

I was honored that my 75th birth was the birth of my nephew. His was a spontaneous labor that escalated quickly, to say the least. Contractions picked up and we got to the hospital just in time for an epidural. I settled in for what I thought would be a long epidural nap. Instead, an hour later he was ready to be born. In fact, he was so ready that he got some assistance in coming out. I felt so much gratitude for the doctor who stayed so calm in a moment of crisis, took charge of the room, and made some quick and strategic decisions. Talk about a dang expert.

A lesson: A calm leader can make all the difference.

Nephew! Birth #75

Spoiler: I can feel the difference from 75 to 100. For one thing, I have experienced all sorts of rare complications. I keep joking that the universe wanted to make sure I was seasoned by 100 births. 😮‍💨🥵 I've now seen a prolapsed cord (0.1% of births), severe HELLP (0.5%), a placental abruption (0.4%), and cholestasis (0.3%) - and that is only to name about half. I feel like I am learning trial by fire. All of these births have been a reminder that we don't get to choose the labor and birth that we are given.

I see influencers online who imply that if you just <blank> you'll <blank>

• just don't go to the hospital, you'll will avoid any and every unwanted outcome

• just follow their exercise program, you'll have an easy recovery

• just do 1000 kegels, you'll spontaneously eject your baby from your body

There is no "just" in birth. Anyone who says there is, is selling something. You cannot know what birth will ask of you. What karmic lesson is being offered up for you to learn from. In what way you will be asked to surrender to your experience. When people ask how long I've been a doula, I usually answer, "Long enough to know that I don't know shit." In other words, the longer I do this, the more I understand the infinite possibilities. The infinite lessons. The level of surrender that birth demands.

Me at birth #100: birth is tough but so are you!

During this 100th birth, my client asked for an epidural. Some places allow one support person to stay, others allow the whole team to linger by the door. UChicago kicked us all out. Unsurprisingly, this was one of the most difficult moments of my client's labor. The procedure took a long time and my client is struggling with how difficult it was even weeks later. When will hospital providers see doulas for what we are, support? I don't enter a room ready for confrontation and combat. I enter strategically, thinking about how best to smooth the communication and ease the experience. How can we find ways to turn toward each other, rather than away?

A lesson: Doulas matter. Support matters. Community matters.

What does it mean to support people who are bringing in souls in this wyld time? To me, it means community must always come first. That we take care of each other. That as the upheaval swirls around us, we must hold each other up. Lean on each other for the strength to resist. That all of the children - every Palestinian child, Sudanese child, immigrant child - EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. They are all ours. We must protect them. Be their voice.

And that work starts with birth.