How I got here

Warning, I tend the ramble so I'm going to take you way back. Thirty-three years ago, I was a  young college student, married and pregnant with my first child. To say I was naïve and ill-prepared is an understatement. Still, something greater than myself was looking out for me because under circumstances I can't remember, I connected with nurse practitioner student who was doing research for her studies, and she asked if I would allow her to ask me some questions during my pregnancy and afterwards. I don't know how much help I was to  her, but she my first introduction to the idea of an informed, autonomous birth. I didn't experience one but that's another story for another time.

My first daughter was breech. During my delivery, I felt  like a slab of beef on a cold cutting table and no one save my mother was listening to me. The surgery was horrific and  according to my mother, I almost died. To throw salt in the wounds, my infant was kept from me for hours to the point my breasts became engorged; I had been sliced opened vertically so the pain and injury lingered for weeks; my hospital stay was extended to a week; breastfeeding didn't begin till day three and  my baby and I were quite miserable.

Ten years later- I was ecstatic to be hitting a milestone, I was turning thirty and the only hiccup was I thought I was coming down with a virus or the flu. It was no flu. I was vomiting because I was pregnant. Not exactly the life change I had anticipated but she was coming and it didn't take me long to become okay with it. This pregnancy, I was serious about having the kind of birth I wanted, how I wanted it, and I was not going to be one to be fooled with about it. I sought out a midwife and I found a team. I read, we talked, we drafted a plan. I had a coach (friend) and Dad.

I was a VBAC and happy that I had found a team that supported my decision.  My  second daughter's birth was nothing like my first. Lot of cussin' but no drugs, no cutting, no swollen breasts. We were home the next day.

A short time after my second daughter was born, I met a woman in the grocery store. We became fast friends. I had a newborn and she was pregnant with twins. In the early weeks after they were born, when she was clearly exhausted, I offered to help with her babies. Supporting her was my first, informal postpartum experience.

When my youngest daughter had my first granddaughter, I was there for her birth. And I mean from the laughing and joking to the crying, complaining, scared-angry moments of trying to push. When my oldest daughter's water broke, I booked the first flight out to get there for grand number two. Like me, my daughter had done her reading, made a plan,  taken classes and her midwife was seasoned and tough enough to be by her side. Birth wasn't everything dear daughter wanted, but she held her ground, worked through the challenges, and she allowed me to support her through it all.

It was after my second granddaughter's birth that I knew I had found my new path. I had been searching for a new direction and here it was. I'm convinced I have been on this path before it became clear to me. Supporting women has been an integral part of my adult life. My entire life has been built on giving to others and becoming a doula is another opportunity for me to be able to serve.

And that's how I got here.  I told you I can ramble. I hope there was enough good in this rambling tale to have made it worth your while.

In love,
L