13/12/2025
As I edge closer to 40, the sleep deprivation hits a little differently. The long days and long nights, the sun setting and rising while I am still holding space at a birth, all land heavier on the body but somehow deeper in the heart.
This is not to make it about me, but to offer a real glimpse into what it actually means to have a doula on call. It is such a layered experience and it goes far beyond simply showing up when labour begins.
There is the unpredictability. Cancelled plans. Middle of the night call outs. Not knowing when I will walk back through my own front door. There is the emotional presence required, the steady grounding, the commitment to being a pillar for a woman in one of the most vulnerable and powerful moments of her life.
And then she says, “Thank you. I don't know how I could done it without you.”
But I know she could have. It was always within her. I was just there to remind her, breath by breath, of the strength she already carried.
Still, I often leave wondering if I did enough. Because there are moments when I am digging deep too. Moments of fatigue, doubt, and quiet resilience woven into the care I give.
While I am pouring into others, I am held as well. My husband steps in and keeps our home flowing when I have no idea what time I will be home. He messages for updates not out of pressure, but so he can time everything perfectly. A warm meal waiting. A small gift left out. Gentle reminders that I am doing meaningful work even when I feel emptied.
He holds space for me in the aftermath. He doulas me so our home can stay still and I can rest.
This is what being on call really looks like. It is not just the birth itself. It is the devotion before, the presence during, and the recovery after. All so someone else can feel supported, safe, and deeply held.
This work stretches you. It softens you. It humbles you.
To witness birth is to witness the power of women. To be trusted in that space is something I will never take for granted.
