Between Earth and Providence
July 7, 2024
When I was pregnant 25, 22, and 17 years ago, I knew nothing about Doulas. After my children were born I heard about Doulas the way one hears of the ghosts living within the crumbling walls of the dilapidated mansion in the cul-de-sac up the street. Doulas were intriguing, unfamiliar, missed connections for me. There was no one in my familial, friend, or acquaintance circle that lived as a Doula, or even spoke about them. Which means, I knew more about the Loch Ness monster than I knew about these living, breathing, Healers and Caretakers.
Which begs the question: who taught me about compassion, healing, and caretaking?
Whether experiencing trauma or loneliness, I was never comforted as a child. In my most heart-wrenching seasons of life, there was no one to turn to as an advocate, sage, or guide. I was always directed to the Church to heal my brokenness, and bind my wounds. But the Church was a cold and indifferent space, with fangs hiding behind ceramic smiles, and venom injected into rehearsed platitudes.
Libraries became my refuge. Books invited me into adventures that allowed me an escape from my painful reality. Enveloped between beige walls and all-too-thin carpet, I could travel the world. I would vanquish the evil monster, and rise from being the pummeled underdog. Most importantly, I found unconditional love that tended to my ailments. I learned to arm myself with knowledge and wisdom as a superpower. I didn’t find words written in those pages. I found friendship and companionship. I found freedom and empowerment. I found love and empathy.
It’s been a year since I went through the 200-hour training to become a Certified Professional Doula, and this pathway has opened my life up to more love and adventure than I ever thought possible.
Throughout my life, I’ve felt connected to a lot of my volunteer and employment positions. But none of them have felt like a finely interwoven tapestry of passion and purpose, like I’ve experienced while working as a Doula.
I’ve held the hands of the one shaking with fear while waves of doubt crashed over her, moments before she held her first child.
I’ve brought warm blankets and dignity to the couple about to meet their tiny one that never had a chance to breathe air into her lungs.
I held a little one for hours, while stroking his eyebrows, and singing lullabies because his parents were in the next room—unwilling to leave their precious child alone—yet, unable to bear witness to their tiny lion that never had a chance to marvel at the beauty of earth with his own eyes.
I’ve walked with loved ones that were convulsing in sobs, overcome by the love and elation they now had for the newest addition to their family.
I’ve calmed parents that were terrified about their babies being on the verge of giving birth to babies.
I’ve run from hospital basements and through crowded hallways, to bring life-saving blood products to a new mom tiptoeing onto death’s doorstep.
I’ve witnessed birthing people plan for unmedicated births, and have it go completely opposite as planned, yet they are confident they had the most perfect birthing experience.
I’ve witnessed Mamas prep for months to have a medicated labor and delivery, but their babies and bodies had a different plan in mind.
I’ve prepped baths, beds, peanut balls, chairs, rebozos, squat bars, diffusers, TENS units, massage guns, and essentials oils on masks and washcloths and pillowcases.
I’ve wiped tears, snot, vomit, feces, urine, amniotic fluid, meconium, and blood from every surface of a birthing space.
I’ve witnessed many birthing people dancing and hip-swaying their babies through the birth canal.
I’ve seen countless pregnant people do the exact thing that they thought they couldn’t do.
I’ve been witness to the shock, fear, certainty, doubt, fatigue, curiosity, marvel, joy, amusement, gratitude, dismay, terror, hope, grief, anger, whimsy, peace, determination, love, admiration, rest, and rejuvenation swirling about the birthing space.
All of it has felt holy and natural.
Birth is carnal and primal and spiritual and gentle and peaceful and heartbreaking and life-giving and wild and beautiful and messy and perfect.
The Birthing Space is everything about this one life we have to live, and it’s everything about who we are as human beings.
And I am profoundly in awe… so grateful to be invited in… into this tension between Earth and Providence.
