My journey to becoming a Birth Doula
- beautyinbirthdoula
- Mar 10, 2020
- 3 min read
Updated: Mar 13, 2020
Ever since I can remember, I have had a passion for birth. Hearing my aunts talk about their pregnancies and seeing them in their homes with the newborn babies. I remember hiding in an old yellow school bus beside our horse fence waiting and hoping I could have a glimpse of our mare giving birth. Of course, she gave birth at night when I was asleep, and I was so disappointed I missed it.
When I was 21, living in Lesotho, an Australian midwife moved into my duplex. She started sharing birth stories and I was fascinated, and couldn’t stop asking questions. She invited me to a birth she was attending in the local hospital of one of her friends. I will not go into details of the appalling conditions of the hospital. I cannot explain my heart that night. The adrenaline, the dread of the birthing mother being told to "shut up" by the local matron, the disgusting environment a newborn baby was to be welcomed into the world. But as well the overwhelming joy and thankfulness of the new mother having two friendly faces to encourage her through the journey. Every time I saw her after that night, she would tell me how grateful she was to hold my hand. I think that’s when I knew I wanted to be a doula before I even knew what a doula was!
In 2008 a friend encouraged me to attend a DONA International Birth Doula training course in Alberta. Still not knowing what a Doula was, I thought if it’s about birth, yes I am in!!! I learned so much about how important it is for an expectant mother to be supported physically, emotionally and informationally through her journey.
In 2009 I had the amazing opportunity to shadow a rural midwife in Mozambique. The conditions were not as bad as Lesotho but I sensed right away there was no passion or empathy for the birthing mother. As the laboring mother was left to fend for herself. Not quite sure what the role of the midwife was, in that situation? My heart ached for the support the mama deserved but was not given.
In 2012 I had the privilege of supporting my young teenage friend through labor and birth. It was not what anyone in the developed world would picture the process to be. By Lesotho culture standards she did great, but I always wondered how she remembered it? I know my presence was a comfort to her, as all the other women in the room had no support around them.

In 2018 I traveled to the Dominican Republic to shadow on a maternity ward for 2 weeks. I learned so much through the experience. Especially what my body was able to handle physically, and emotionally. Standing endless hours in the operating room with women having Cesarean births, and in delivery rooms having vaginal births. Learning what healthy, distressed, preterm, stillborns looked like. Watching women's faces explode with joy when handed their babies and the grief of the women who transferred to the postpartum ward empty handed. Those 2 weeks confirmed in me that this is what and where I wanted to be, supporting expectant mothers/parents in their transition from pregnancy into motherhood.

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