Death came first for me....

Thirteen years ago I began my career as a doula. My very first year I “dove in” and attended 6 births….I thought I was knowledgeable enough, I mean I had given birth 3 times myself, I had attended the workshop, been checked off by doctors and nurses….surely I knew enough to make a difference.

Looking back, I knew nothing about anything, except that I wanted these women to experience the best possible birth scenario. It took me many years and many births to understand that their ideal birth experience and what I would consider my ideal experience would never match up….

What was being a doula all about for me? I was a hospice nurse before I became a doula, helping patients on their journey out of this life. What had I learned and seen as a hospice nurse that could help me on my new path? How could the years I had spent holding someone’s hand while they drew their last breath compare to watching a new baby take air for the first time? Well, what I know is that everyone of those experiences where I witnessed the calm, peaceful, feeling of a soul leaving this earth to move on to the awaiting paradise, where his or her ancestors awaited, was one of pure honor.. A feeling of true joy would pass over me as I washed them one last time, brushed their hair, closed their eyes, and placed their hands beside them. Why did I feel that peace?  I know now it was because from the second I met them as patients, I began informing them, educating them and their families about what to expect; I would bathe them and guard them closely to insure their dignity and comfort.  I would advocate for their wishes, even when they could no longer speak.  I knew when the time was near by the sights, smells, and sounds. I knew when to let family know to say their goodbyes.  Some would hold on, waiting for a daughter, a mother, a friend, and not let go until then. Some would lose faith and hold on for fear of what was (or was not) waiting on the other side, and some, most of my patients, would slip softly away.  However it happened, it was their journey.

My peace came from knowing that I did all I could to calm their fears and allow them a hand to hold and a voice to whisper “It’s okay”. My heart was full in knowing that they left this world knowing I would be beside them until their last breath…

So how on earth is birth and death the same?  How could someone even compare the two?  I get it, it sounds morbid, but I have to assure you the two are very much the same.

When I am invited to a birth I have learned that it is not about me or what I believe.  It is not always about having a non- medicated birth and it is not my goal to change the minds of mother’s who want the opposite of me. I believe it is my job to offer information, education, and peace. Peace happens when the fear of the unknown fades away. When you offer a mother the tranquility of knowing that all is well and that everything that she is experiences is normal, her heart is calm. When you allow her to have the information to make choices, she will never look back and regret the choices she made. Faith, after all, is by definition; believing in something when common sense tells us not to….We all know how hard it can be to have faith, especially when we cannot see what awaits us on the other side…meaning when you are in labor, felling contractions, it is hard to imagine there is truly an end in site. Even I, after having 5 children now, could not get over how incredible it is to push another human being from my body. Even I had to be reminded by my doula, whispering “It’s okay”, that I could indeed, get through this labor and delivery.

If there is anything I would never want to do alone, it is give birth or die. I know I want as much information about starting life, for my children, and about ending life for me and my loved ones. Those two things are the biggest things we will ever do in this lifetime….breath and stop breathing.

Now, I have walked hundreds of miles with women in labor, done thousands of hip presses, and as I call them “ghetto adjustments” (thanks to the amazing Autumn Gore, DC for teaching me), arranged many a leg into the pretzel position, fed ice chips while, holding a leg and a camera in my other hand, poured water over a belly in a bath tub even though my hand was, surely, going to break off at the wrist. I have guided relaxation, given acupressure massage, offered advice on herbal supplements and touched more boobs than any heterosexual women (outside of my profession) would ever care to admit.

I can tell when a woman is in real labor just by the look and smell of her, and dilation by the sound. I know that just like my hospice patients, mothers will wait to dilate if they are not relaxed, comfortable, or surrounded with the people they want.  I know that some are still working through “letting go” of control. Others will just let their babies slip softly out….however it happened, it was their journey.

I know now why my calling as a doula came to be…not because I was looking for my life’s work but because it knocked on my door.  I am so glad I answered this call to service. I am so blessed for the witness I have been privileged to bear. I have seen the hand of God work in the two most beautiful and vulnerable times in life and will never forget any of the hands I have been honored to hold.

Often times, a family will say to me “I couldn’t have done it without you” and my reply is always “ Yes you could have, but thank you for inviting me.”