Why Did I Become a Doula?

When I was 6, I looked at my mom and said, "You're pregnant." She looked shocked and asked how I knew. She had just found out herself. Doula work came for me early.

Fun fact: I can still usually tell when someone is pregnant, which got me into a bit of trouble in my 20s when I would blurt to people before they told me. I would just be so excited! I've come a long way since then and keep my lips zipped until people are ready to share their news. Your secret is safe with me ;)

Doula work also came to me in a sort of round about way. As an adult, I attended my aunt's death at home with hospice. I communicated with the medical staff, handled logistics and medicine schedules, and made sure everyone ate and rested. She died surrounded by her closest people, loving her, talking to her, and singing. It was a dignified death. I told her story to a friend who taught me the word, "doula."

Photo by Jacinta Lagos

Immediately, I was doula curious. I felt like I had finally found a word to describe my propensity for liminal spaces. Soon after, a friend was pregnant and asked if I had ever considered becoming a birth doula. It was the final little push that I needed to start seriously looking for a training program.

I knew I wanted to support a local Black-owned business supporting low-income people. As a lover of learning, I also knew a one-day crash course wasn't going to satisfy me. For 12 weeks in 2019, every Tuesday and Thursday, I biked over to Ancient Song in Brooklyn, NY.

I sat at the feet of amazing teachers like Erica Hart and Chanel Porchia. I learned quickly that birth doulas much more than just snack-pushers or hip-squeezers. There is a maternal mortality crisis in the US, and it disproportionately affects Black women. Doulas are advocates, witnesses, and guides. We support people in some of their most vulnerable moments to feel empowered.

photo by Erin Loughlin

Looking back now, it feels inevitable that I would end up in this work. I come from three generations of caregivers running the spectrum from infant/childcare to elderly care. I was giving rides to Planned Parenthood in high school before I even fully realized that was "controversial." I went to Wellesley, a women's college outside of Boston, and it rewired my brain: I learned what it meant to come from a low-income background, and how that intersected with my white privilege. My Rosie the Riveter feminism blossomed into progressive values.

My first career after college was teaching kindergarten and leading and coaching in early childhood. Small children puking directly into your hands definitely prepares you for some aspects of birth! I've worked with young children and families my whole life: my own 5 siblings, babysitting in my small town in MA, researching imagination in preschools during college, joining Teach For America on the West Side of Chicago, and leading an elementary school in Harlem, NY.  All of those experiences made me a calm presence in a crisis, another strength in the birth room. I'm hard to surprise!

When I first because a teacher coach, I read adrienne maree brown's now classic Emergent Strategy. It was another major turning point in my life. The final death knell of my belief in individualism. Here was a doula and an organizer pulling all of my own world views together for me. As a queer person, I have experienced plenty of healthcare snafus. Inclusion is good for everyone because it makes space for all different people, outcomes, and needs. To me, queerness involves a lot of questioning, especially because the world isn't usually made for us. To to this day, I ask, "Why?" a lot. That questioning is a strength and one that I aim to bring to all births.

me at my second birth in early 2020, homemade mask and all

In hindsight my path feels like a snowball rolling downhill, but as a new doula (amid the pandemic in 2020) I was terrified that I'd be useless. To my delight, everything clicked. I knew when to hold a hand, offer water, or silently hold space. And, I knew immediately there was no going back. I left thinking, "Shit. Time for a career change." I feel lucky that my second birth was at a birth center where I witnessed client-centered, empowering care. Seeing undisturbed birth supported by midwives early on in my career was a gift.

Some moments call for humor, others need puzzling

I am genuinely in awe of birthing people. Giving birth is a rite of passage, regardless of how the baby is born. I love witnessing people as they transform from pregnant person to parent, and I am honored each time I am invited into someone's birth space. Birth never goes as planned, but if you are satisfied with your options and choices, then I know I've done my job. It's normal to want a healthy baby AND also a good birth experience because a good experience contributes to you and your baby's health.

Last year, I attended a birth with a long pushing phase with the baby in a tough position. My client was attended by her husband and sister who gave her the support she needed to keep going. This year, her sister interviewed me to be her doula and she said, "I could see you constantly doing the doula math. How can we make this better for her? Easier? What positions might move the baby?" That is who I aim to be in the birth space. The quiet strategist. My friend and colleague Carly Ann Braun reminds me that sometimes birth is a mystery that needs to unfold, rather than a puzzle to solve. I do really love to puzzle though.