My First Doula Client: A Birth I’ll Never Forget
I’m grateful to my client and her husband for allowing me to share their story on my blog. Their journey was extraordinary, and I’m honored to have been part of it.
Please note: I am not a doctor and I am not giving medical advice. Information on this website is not intended to diagnose or treat any form of any disease or medical condition. This article is for informational and entertainment purposes only.
How it started
There I was again. I had just met this woman at the wedding shower we were both attending and somehow I had, yet again, steered the conversation to the nitty-gritty and unglamorous details pertaining to birth.
“Something's wrong with me,” I thought to myself, “here's a perfect stranger and I'm talking about pooping during labor.” I took some comfort in knowing that if she thought I was a total nut case, I'd just be dismissed as some random crunchy wacko she met at her friend's party.
We spoke for a long time. Twenty minutes? An hour? Maybe more?! By the time we finished, almost all the guests had left, our husbands were nearly done breaking down the tables and chairs and my kids were exhausted.
We took a couple family photos, got the boys into their car seats, and headed home.
Fast forward a couple months, and the bride-to-be whom we were celebrating calls me. We chatted for a few minutes about her wedding. I gave her the information she was calling for and we were wrapping up the call, when I mustered up some courage and decided to seize the opportunity.
“Since I have you on the phone,” I say, feeling a little awkward, “I am starting a project - I'm calling it Sensible Mama. I want to help expecting mamas take control of their births through knowledge. I'm making myself tell everyone I know so I can hold myself accountable and actually see this through.” I give her a clumsy elevator pitch, wholly unpracticed and probably terribly confusing.
She expresses polite support. Then she pauses.
“Wait,” she says, “did you talk to someone at my shower about home birth?”
“Yes…” I cringe a little, remembering my borderline obsessed ramblings to that poor woman.
“My friend just told me she's pregnant, and she mentioned she wanted the contact info for my relative that does home births that she met at the shower. I had no clue who she was talking about! I'm so glad you mentioned this or else I never would have known!”
She passed on my info. We had a wonderful call. And, long story short, that's how I got my first ever client as a doula.
Preparation
As the due date approached, we discussed her birth goals. We went over comfort measures (she wanted an unmedicated birth - something I strongly support). I met with her and her incredibly supportive husband and we finalized their birth plan. I gave her some educational resources, helped install the car seat in their car, and we went about our lives awaiting the arrival of their little one.
The morning came when her labor began. Seeing her texts around 7am, I jumped out of bed, left my husband to wrangle our boys, jumped in the car, and drove the hour and a half to the birth center, feeling excited.
The big day
I am crazy about the topic of birth. I have watched countless videos. I read so many birth stories. I listened to podcasts. I host a podcast. I have a blog on this subject. I read books. I wrote a book. I was immersed.
And yet, I had never witnessed a labor (other than my own two) before this day.
It was incredible.
Labor is called “labor” for a reason. It is not for the faint of heart. Men are strong, men can care for us, provide for us and protect us. But women are a force to be reckoned with. What a woman does to bring life to the world is beyond comparison.
This mama was a champion. Her labor was long. It wasn't easy. She barely got a break all day.
Her team of midwives, her husband and I supported her, encouraged her and helped her. Ultimately, though, the labor was HERS and she charged through it bravely (despite the occasional promise to her husband that she'd never do this again). There was a powerful and raw beauty about her as she surrendered to the rhythm of her contractions.
The intensity was unbelievable. I recalled my own labors and realized I'd forgotten just how powerful the forces of labor are.
The sun set, the stars shone, and the finish line was in sight. This mama was so ready to meet her baby.
It was now after 10 pm. She'd been pushing for some time, when her wise and very experienced midwife said, calmly but very urgently, “I need you to get baby out in this next push.”
It wasn't a suggestion. She didn't say any more, but it was crystal clear from the tone of her voice that, for the sake of the baby, it was go time.
Mama understood the assignment. She cast her fear, apprehension and doubt away. She gave it all she had. She pushed her baby out. The little girl was gorgeous. A head full of hair, sweet, round cheeks, the most perfect little toes.
Only there was no breath.
The midwives were already in action, taking the steps necessary to help baby girl get this new body going. Like clockwork, they took every step with confidence and determination. Though from the outside they appeared to simply be going through the motions they had clearly trained on carefully, a closer look would show a very human side. In their eyes, an unwavering resolve mixed with a deep care for the life of this new baby. Their hands slightly shaking from the adrenaline coursing through their blood gave away the strength of their emotions.
Dad was at the foot of the bed, head bent, praying over his wife and their still unmoving child.
Mama was talking to her baby. It was as if she was reaching, with her voice, past the material world and into a spiritual realm. With all her love and all her strength, she tugged on this new soul and urged her to come, to start her new adventure.
She held my hand with a fierce grip, as if I was a tether to the physical universe.
Seconds turned to minutes.
Paramedics arrived.
The cord was cut.
Resuscitation efforts continued.
And in the wild flurry of activity, finally, a little, almost imperceivable gasp from this blue, seemingly lifeless infant.
With that brief breath she told everybody in the room, “I'm here! I'm fighting! Don't give up on me!” and no one did. Not even for a moment.
The baby was whisked away to the hospital with her dad and a small army of medical staff.
Mama and I sat in the bed. It was quiet now. I held her hand and marveled at her strength.
Some time passed and we got a call from her husband. Baby girl was alright. She was strong. She fought well. And she won.
With a sigh of relief, we turned our attention to getting mama ready to be able to get up and head to the hospital.
I will spare you the details, but as if she hadn't already been through enough, she had to overcome further challenges and complications and endure still more discomfort after the birth. In spite of this, she was steadfast, brave and determined to get through it. No hurdle would get in the way of her holding her precious new baby.
Finally, we went to the hospital, where mama finally got to snuggle her perfect little girl for the first time.
I stayed for a while, until I felt certain the new family was more or less settled and everyone was doing fine.
As I got ready to go, I took one more look at the mama. She was smiling, even laughing, as she watched her husband and daughter interact with each other. You would never know, looking at her now, the extent of the ordeal she had just gone through.
I marveled at her strength, her resilience and her love.
In closing
I drove home in the wee hours of the morning.
It was a quiet, peaceful drive where I considered the events of the day.
Witnessing and supporting a mama bringing life into this world had been such a powerful experience.
Doula work is not easy. It's demanding - physically and emotionally But it is also unbelievably powerful, uplifting and spiritual.
In spite of the challenges of the day, and there were many, I felt such deep conviction that I had been exactly where I needed to be.
I felt humbled.
I felt inspired.
Above all, I felt profoundly grateful.
I got home, quickly showered and got into bed. I hugged my kids a little tighter than usual, and went to sleep, knowing I had set my feet on a path that was not simply a new career; it was a calling.