about are's

I looked into becoming a doula, initially because of my own complex birthing and postpartum experience, and finally because I realized that I was not alone in the estranging feelings. In fact, it seemed to be more common than not for motherhood to feel isolating, hard to navigate, and straight up hard . Surely people would stop having children all together if they were given even the slightest inclination of how difficult this would all be, right?

 

The things my body endured, my mental and emotional state being on a constant swinging pendulum of happiest moments I've ever lived to if I stay awake for one more minute I might just fade out to one big blob of nothingness, and the feeling that no one could possibly understand me (and not in a quirky teenager coming-of-age way, but a concerningly existential I'm-not-even-sure-if-I-can-articulate-it-myself, sort of way). 

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There is nothing I've loved more than becoming a mom. I can say that on a lie detector and everything. I love my children more than I thought I was capable of loving anything, and I have never been a better version of myself. The true passion of these statements doesn't negate how difficult the transition, though.

 

From Self, to pregnant, to parent- each stage brought on a new cold trepidation, a warm sense of gratitude, and ultimately the strongest resilience. There is no warning, no guide, no recipe to follow or potion to concoct. The stars don't have the answer to the right way to gracefully enter parenthood, and I sure as hell don't either.

 

I did learn, however, that there is one major crucial thing to tip the scale from surviving on a teeny tiny precariously unraveling thread to thriving in a cup that's full enough to pour into others...

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Community. 

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The word might not mean much to you. Maybe you never really ever felt a part of a tribe in your entire life. Perhaps, if you were an angsty teen like me, the word itself even compels you to roll your eyes. As I age, though, and I grow and my frontal lobe develops, it becomes clear to me.

 

Community is the center of everything we are.

 

If you don't believe it now, have a child. You will see how valuable of a pillar it is to help you breathe through even the most knock-the-wind-out-of-you moments. 

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The problem with community is modern American, westernized parenthood? 

 

The disheartening truth is, there is often none, and if there is some, it is scarce.

 

We've been robbed of the concept of a village and instead given a 6-week maternity leave and some free samples of formula. They give us just enough to get by, when we deserve to thrive. The clinical team is amazing, the family at the hospital is sweet, but when it all fades out you have to be left with something, or else you will be scrambling to find anything to hold onto (most often it will be the phantom baby in your arms you jerked awake to in the middle of the night, only to realize your real baby is peacefully asleep in the bassinet). 

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I decided to become a doula because I want to be that person. I want to be the little fragment of community that ends up being revolutionary to a person's birthing experience and postpartum journey. If I can be even the slightest lending hand, or shoulder to cry on, a calming influence in a chaotic birth, or a bridge to ease the body and mind in pregnancy- I will feel like a contribution to the greater change that we need systemically. 

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I joined this field to help people in need individually, but also to eventually be one of the influences for a new generation to be cared for in a better way.