It Truly Does Require a Village
Truly, I tell you, it takes a village to raise a child. This saying has been tossed around for quite a while now, and even though I’ve been working as a doula for only five years, I believe it so much more now than I ever did at the start. I wanted to share a story that resonates quite close to my heart, and it's from my early days working as a doula. Actually, it's a story about the very first family I helped as a postpartum doula.
Now to take you back, this was some time ago. I was only 18. I had decided that I was going to quit university, leave the world of business behind, and then lo and behold, I actually decided to do the opposite and start my own. When I heard about doula work, I didn’t really think it was a job. I believed it was more like a childbirth educator or babysitting... but when I took my course with Bebo Mia, I learned that I was wrong.
I created my website, started a social media presence, and after only a couple of months, I received an inquiry. This was from a couple in their late thirties who wanted to have a postpartum doula. Her family was not very close with her, and she knew she wanted extra support and help since she hadn’t been around children much in her life. I can’t begin to tell you how nervous I was. Only two years before that, I believed every time I held a baby, I was going to drop it. (Isn’t this always the case?) After my initial consultation with them, we connected really well, and they knew they wanted to hire me. I had been honest that my skill level was not that of others they may interview, but they didn’t care as long as I knew what I was doing and had worked with babies before. (I had been a babysitter since I was 13, so I felt I had it in the bag.)
Regardless, their baby was due in a month, so I had some time to prepare myself and review my classes once more. Some time passed, and when I got the call to tell me my first shift was starting a couple of days later, I was thrilled. It turned out the baby came early and had been born the previous day. Being as excited as I was, I barely slept that night! When I left for their house that morning, I was confident (or, well, I was going to fake it until I made it!)
Once I stepped through the door, it felt chaotic. They were overtired, and you could sense it. I asked how they were doing and what they needed in that moment. It turned out that since the baby came early, they wanted my help building the playpen. Now mind you, I had never built a playpen, but they seemed desperate and defeated if it didn’t get done. So I metaphorically rolled up my sleeves and jumped in. Each shift afterward was filled with surprises. One time, the father pulled me aside and asked for guidance and information regarding the baby’s eating patterns and whether the child was getting enough. He was so stressed about it, but with the little information I knew and shared, he calmed down, like the conversation was enough to put him at ease.
The amount of times they leaned on me so they could just take a shower in peace, have a nice home cooked meal - of course, the father was a chef, so this made me panic as I was no five star restaurant you know… actually I may have even used that line.
I also had the privilege of giving the baby's first bath with them present. He was so tiny and having only weighed a little over five pounds, it was such an experience. Then, on another visit we had an impromptu photoshoot. I hadn’t any knowledge on professional photography but the fact that their photographer was busy and couldn’t come early for them, I did what I could.
I learned so much from them and when the time to say goodbye came, it broke my heart. But it never really was goodbye. Her family lived close to mine and we passed the level of business to that, one of friendship.
She had communicated with text quite often sending updates about their family and how things were going. The kicker came when a couple of months later I received a phone call from her. Strangely, quite out of the blue.
It turns out they were going to be having a second child… it seems she was repeating a story similar to that of my mother who had my sister and I only sixteen months apart.
She mentioned how she would need my support once more, and I felt so glad to be doing it for them. Hell, this time I knew what I was doing. I wasn’t nervous and I could actually be of some use to them or so I thought.
She had wanted my help before the child was born as more of a mother’s helper inside the house, supporting the seven -or - eight month old (okay it’s spotty I forget his age) with basic necessities.
Our plans changed some, originally I was planning to go to the hospital with them, older sibling and all my role would have been to take care of the child and be help for them during delivery. With the world and its problems, it changed, and four thirty in the morning I went to their house to stay home with the little guy. By that evening dad came and watched him, so I could relieve him the following morning.
I was doing that for a few days leading up to them bringing baby number two home. I felt so blessed to be a part of all those memories, and to be so much help during the beginning.
In the end, it was quite different supporting her for baby number two. She was experienced, she knew what she doing, and at the time I felt as if I was useless, but looking back I know that for her, she was more than happy to just have me be there in-case she needed me for something big.
Support comes in many shapes and forms, and it isn’t just black and white. I haven’t had one family be identical to the next. Each situation looks different, but it all circles around to the same thing. Having more people there to guide you.
Maybe you have a doula, maybe a really good extended family as long as someone is there to hold you. Not just the baby.
In the end, all that matters is that you aren't doing it alone.
Lisa van der Wilt
Fruitful Womb Doula Services
Certified Birth, Postpartum, and Fertility Doula, Birthkeeper,
Menopause Coach and Advocate, PLC
@fruitfulwombdoula
