When people find out what you do for a living, as a doula, they tend to assume that you really love babies.
And it’s reassuring that in the future I’ll be able to have baby cuddles, especially as I might not have any more of my own.
But I didn’t get into this work because I love babies, it’s because I love women. I realised the other day I have *one* photo of me holding a baby because it doesn’t even occur to me to ask to hold them.
They are beautiful. They are a miracle.
But the mother?
She is a goddess. A warrior.
Attending a birth is like falling in love. You become entirely focussed on this one person, to the point that nothing else matters. Time becomes blurry. You learn to anticipate what they need, sense changes in their body language, it’s an intricate dance going on between the mother, her baby and her birth supporters.
Once I heard a consultant say that she was there for the baby, to the point that she was overriding the parent’s wishes. It still astounds me that a professional genuinely believes she cares about a baby’s safety more than the parents.
And it made me realise that I didn’t feel that way at all. In that moment my heart was breaking for the mother.
I am not there for the babies. That’s not what called me to this work. I am there for the mother. I believe that her role is to stay in tune with her baby and her body and tell you what she needs. If you just stop to listen she will tell you all that you need to know.
I adore the babies and I will be crying alongside you as you welcome yours into the world. My doula babies still bring tears to my eyes today.
Because they were birthed by you - through your strength and beauty and determination, your courage and perseverance. The way you surrender yourself to the process and look around you in childlike wonder. The way you just know.
The way in your postpartum vulnerability, you glow.
You are my favourite.