This August I received my doula certification, and attended my first birth in October. The process of getting there was such a whirlwind that I have forgotten exactly how it started, though I know it had much to do with my grandfather’s passing. By this I was deeply moved. I had never been present for something so timeless and ancestral. Holding his hand, and closing his eyes, the culmination of all the places we had traveled together in conversation, leading up to his leaving me behind. He was not afraid to die. An inquisitive man, he and I discussed the possibilities of death at length, the mysteries. Naturally we discussed the mysteries of birth as well. I had asked him to tell me about the birth of my mother. “What was it like seeing your daughter for the first time?” He paused for a while, the most wise and childlike smile on his face, and tears in his blue eyes. “And her mother, holding her…” he said. “It was GOOD.” We both cried then.
I have always been fascinated by birth, delighted by the strength and innate ability that women hold to render new life, and to bring it into the world with such powerful emotional and physical force. Then to turn around and nurture that life with tenderness and understanding. It represented to me a sublime duality, a beautiful balance perfected in nature, connecting us all to each other through an inexplicable act of trust. I have always wanted to be a mother, and look up to the mothers in my life with reverence and awe, for all of their uniquenesses and strengths, bound by the common thread of birth. When I learned what a doula was, it made so much sense to me. Someone to be a compassionate witness to the strength and transformation of her fellow woman, to hold space for her journey into the expansion of herself, of her family, of her world. The practicalities of it made sense too. A woman faces a metamorphosis, a spiritual whirlwind unfolding within her, and the most dramatic physical event of her lifetime- who will make sure she stays hydrated, worry about her blood sugar, and remind her that she was made to do this when she is overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of what she is going through?
I will! I would love to do that!
I received my certification through the International Doula Institute. I was armed with a functional knowledge of pregnancy, birth and postpartum- nutrition, comfort measures, the intricate dance of hormones between mother and baby at all stages, culminating in an invaluable bond- and how to avoid interrupting it’s choreography. Overflowing with textbook knowledge, (though the term does a disservice to Ina May Gaskin, Penny Simpkin, and Sarah J Buckley) I had lots of ideas and no experience. I felt that attending a birth at this point would be more of a gift from the mother to me than a service I provided to her. I wasn’t sure where to begin. It was soon that a friend of mine, a midwifery student, experienced doula, and incredible mom reached out to me and asked if I would be her backup for a birth in October. She said that most likely I would not end up having to cover for her, but that she felt like I was ready to start working, and that she fully trusted me if the need did arise. I was honored, and gratefully accepted, though never expected that this would really be my first birth as a doula. The week that the mama’s estimated due date rolled around, my friend had to rush out of town for a sudden family matter. She put me in touch with her client, and before I knew it, we were texting back and forth about the frequency and intensity of her contractions. As it became clear that things were really moving along, we set off to meet at the birth center.
The birth center is in a part of town that I have passed through a million times, but upon arriving there that evening I was overtaken by a feeling of electric newness. The cattails swayed in the crisp autumn breeze, and blue airport lights twinkled in the distance. I met my client, Ada, and her husband James (names changed for privacy) in the parking lot, they were both flushed and glowing with that contagious excitement. I was a stranger, they had done all of their prenatal appointments with my friend and not expected to birth with her backup, but it was easy to get to know each other in the giddy and open moments between her contractions. They were a beautiful couple, looking to each other for the reassurance, and receiving so much peace.
We were admitted to the birth room by the midwife. Ada labored while James knelt beside her. They talked and laughed in between her contractions, and she said that the laughter helped ease the pain. I fed her honey sticks and sips of water, and asked about the baby- what would they name her? What would her big brother think? As she entered transition, the passage of time seemed to change for all of us. There was a shift in consciousness, palpable through the room. We became a team, united in our mission to greet a new life, and to build up the inherent strength in Ada, our leader to the light at the end. I rubbed her back, guided her footsteps as she crossed the room, countered her strength against my own as she powered through, and squeezed her hand as tight as she did mine, until we were no longer strangers, but sisters, who might have walked this earth together for a thousand years, welcomed a thousand children, weeping and laughing, weaving and gathering, hollering, carrying the water and the wood. And James, I feel blessed to have witnessed a father be such an integral part of his daughter’s birth. He was completely calm, and had so much belief in his wife’s ability. He knew just how to hold her, with his hands and with his heart. He was unafraid. He set the tone for his daughter to enter a world of trust, receptivity, support, safety and strength. She would be able to count on her dad, and she would be proud of how much he adored her mother.
Ada was a force to be reckoned with. We only knew that she was in a great deal of pain because she told us so, calmly, in between contractions. She kept her voice low, she breathed slowly and mindfully, she never lost control. She knew that the power she was feeling was her, that it could not overtake her, she was the source of it. Sometimes she would become frustrated, but not long after she would gather herself up and declare “I can do this!” and we would cheer and agree.
In the wee hours of the morning, Ada and I swayed together, holding each other’s shoulders, as her baby crowned. She was out with about one push after that, eyes wide open, not crying but declaring herself with a happy little yodel. She was perfect. Ada gathered her up and was instantly alert, awakened into a new chapter, talking to her daughter, gazing into her eyes. The baby snuggled up with her dad as the placenta was delivered, and we made sure everything was well with Ada. When they were reunited, the baby latched immediately, and there was warm serenity all around.
I held the baby as Ada got cleaned up, and as James warmed a meal. I talked to her as she looked around at everything with her brand new eyes, which already held the strength and innate wisdom passed down by her mother.
I am still buzzing to this day. What a gift I have been given, that I will cherish forever, that I hope to give in return, in acts of service, in bearing witness, by holding the hand and the lantern. I will support this great responsibility given to us by mothers, marveled at by fathers, that we may give to our daughters and our sons. Life! I love life. All of its toughness and tenderness, it’s peaks and valleys. In attending this first birth I feel as though a healing has taken place in me, a foundation upon which to stand in the mystery. I see the path rolling out before me, and it’s a path of connection, community, and togetherness. I have been given, and I am longing to give.
“I know that you can yield when it comes down to it,
bow like the field when the wind combs through it”
-Joanna Newsom, Time, as a Symptom
Tennesse is currently offering her doula services for Brooke’s homebirth clients in San Diego.
