A little over ten years ago, I discovered a term and a job I knew nothing about. Doula: a woman who is trained to assist another woman during childbirth and who may provide support to the family after the baby is born. It intrigued me, and I thought it may be something I would love to do. After a little bit of research, I got distracted (by boys, girls, and hobbies, as 20-somethings are known to do) and the idea fell to the back corners of my mind. It never left, but it clung to the shadows, waiting for the day it would be called upon again.
Three years ago, after a string of miscarriages, I became pregnant with my first biological child that was viable to bring to full term. I was excited, overwhelmed, and desperate to be more prepared than was necessary. I planned to deliver at a birth center, with a Midwife, and I would call forward a word that I hadn’t thought of for many years. I wanted a Doula! It would be a bit of a stretch of our resources, but it would be necessary, I thought to myself.
Twenty weeks into that wonderful, exhausting pregnancy, we learned some terrifying news. My sweet, sweet baby would be born with multiple complex Congenital Heart Defects, if it could be born at all. My family and I were devastated. The next day, we learned the full extent of our little one’s complexities. I was thrown into a world I barely understood. I quickly learned how the human heart works (more than some of my nursing student friends! Though their knowledge will obviously surpass mine soon!) Gone were my dreams of a birthing center, the extra funds to hire a Doula (we would need to deliver at the nearest children’s hospital. A $5 bridge toll, and $10 parking fee for every appointment, and every day we would visit the baby during recovery from his -gulp- heart surgery) and with their loss, I became a passenger in my own pregnancy. I didn’t have to be. But I did.
The good news is, I was treated EXTREMELY well at Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, and so was my son. I had a painful induction, and an emergency cesarean, and on April 27, 2016 we all met Jonas. (And in February of 2018, one open chest surgery, one open heart surgery, and one week long hospital stay for a cold later, he’s still doing great!) And I started thinking how much better I would have handled that time, from December to April, if I had someone else in my corner, Someone trained to comfort, hold space, and cheer for me. Even better, what if I had someone who knew how it felt to have a medically complex fighter growing inside me, who could push me when I needed and help me wrap my head around the questions I needed to ask, but didn’t know how.
So in November 2017, I began my Doula training. And between cardiology visits, daily medications, blue lips, blood thinners, insurance arguments, and normal baby/toddler stuff, I began to study, and watched videos, and summarized chapters, and pinned (SO MANY) resources to my private Pinterest Board. And here I am, Valentine’s Day 2018, so very close to the end of my training, so very close to my first support due date, and making decisions on where to go from here.
Can you imagine if more pregnant people in my position 2 years ago had someone who knew the ropes? What if they had someone who not only knew how to rub their back and hold space for them when necessary, but also knew where all the coffee shops in walking distance from the hospital were, who knew how to get to the Special Delivery unit when the majority of the elevators were shut down for the night, knew what to bring for extended hospital stays, and what to leave home? What if they all had someone who had “been there” and is “doing that” and understood their feelings, and empathized with their fears, as only a medically complex parent could?
That is what I strive to do. Whether it’s the most average birth, or a birth like mine, from the time I got out of high school until the day I realized this was -actually- my calling, and beyond, I will be devoting my energy to making sure my clients FEEL they are as safe as they ARE.
I am a Doula.
MyDoulaRachel 