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“In short, we need others for our physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being. Without others we are  nothing. Our sense that we are an island, an independent, self-sufficient individual bears no relation to reality. It is closer to the truth to picture ourself as a cell in the vast body of life, distinct yet intimately bound up with all living beings.” Geshe Kelsang Gyatso

These words are the core of my beliefs as a birth professional. We need others for our well-being.  The true nature of birth is not an isolated snap-shot of ourselves at our births, but rather an aerial view of our participation with intangible, mysterious, profound connection between all living beings.  I know—light the incense and start chanting (I can make those jokes, I'm Buddhist). But for me, this view has direct, practical application to helping families in birth and the postpartum period. Offering physical and emotional support in labor and postpartum contributes to the vast body of life.

Birth and the first few weeks after delivery are the most profound experiences in a woman's life. Being in labor, birthing, and the postpartum period can feel as if we are to be an island, independent and self-sufficient with the inherent ability to care for our bodies and our babies by ourselves. When in fact, the truth is, we are supposed to need each other more than ever. That's where having a birth and postpartum doula fit in.

Shortly after, if not before, we pee on the stick we are shipped out to our island—supplied with lots of media, family and cultural mandates on how to be pregnant, birth and mother. Alone, we read about a “girlfriend's guide” to birth. Ironically,  there in isolation, we convince ourselves we are solely responsible for a life growing within us and on the outcome of our choices—because our pretend girlfriend in the book said so. Yikes!

When I got pregnant with my son, I bought the island-mama-model hook, line and sinker. I equated being pregnant with being in-charge, and therefore completely self-sufficient. It was my job to be pregnant—I better get on that! Off I went learning, reading, researching, classes, planning-- all the while ignoring my growing fear,  lack of connection to others, and depressive symptoms. Asking for and accepting physical, emotional, psychological, and spiritual help was tantamount to being a wrong, needy, and weak. I thought I was supposed to be an all-knowing earth mother goddess who would inherently know how to birth and care for my baby, IF I did everything right according to lots of authors and experts who know nothing about me. Somewhere between reading horrific pregnancy books on how to panic when you are pregnant, opening my hips in prenatal yoga,  buying a birth ball, attending standard medical childbirth class at a hospital, and ingesting the herbal tincture tea based on my lunar calendar--I thought I would naturally evolve into a birthing, lactating goddess I was meant to be. Somewhere between Xena Warrior Princess and the old woman in the shoe. Strong, fearless, fertile and fully-dilated. Good lord.

Without others, we are nothing.

Luckily, part of my effort to hunker down and give birth on my island, was to get a birth doula. My dear doula, Peggy--bright blue eyes and a wicked laugh She brought me face to face with the the naked truth of needing help and getting help in labor and birth. The emotional comfort of her presence during labor and birth became the motivation for me to become a Birth Doula. 

Then, in postpartum,  my friend Gwen flew to Seattle and stayed with me and Tony and baby Zig for a week. She made us food, did laundry, she held Ziggy, went to my first appointment with the nurse practitioner to get my medication. She didn't flinch at seeing me at the end of my rope. Her courage and love reconnected me to life, to myself, and to my sweet baby. She in essence became my motivation for becoming a Postpartum Doula.

The most amazing full-circle, universe-knocking you over the head moment happened recently when I attended Gwen's birth as her birth doula. She now lives in Seattle, and while I was there, we went for a walk at my favorite lake, Greenlake. When we got out of the car and stepped onto the path, the first person I saw was Peggy. I hadn't seen her or spoken to her in 9 years.

Just distinct cells in the vast ocean...