Becoming “The Village”
Before there was a name for a doula, there were the friends who held you while you cried. There were the ones who made chicken soup for your sore throat, who brought meals wrapped in tin foil- the people who watched your children play in the yard so you could do the folding. Before we assigned language (and dollar value) to what we now call “doula support”, we relied on the comforting touch of our loved ones- on the wisdom of our elders.
So, what is a doula? It may help to organize the answer into types of doulas. In general, a doula is a support person. And for most, a doula is associated with birth work. The widest-known version of the doula is a person who supports birth- a companion who reminds hospital staff that you wanted to keep that placenta, and here is the cooler we brought for it- who decisively dims the lights and fills that humongous plastic hospital cup at the nurse’s station. You may think of them as the hippie standing bedside- that person with the flower crown and the long, flowing skirt dyed purple from violet petals, telling you to imagine your cervix opening like a lily. That portrait is sometimes accurate (minus the flower crown and organic skirt. Sometimes). We anticipate needs, validate emotions, and advocate fiercely. We have a special appreciation for the slick twirl of an umbilical cord, for those guttural birth sounds.
A birth doula often meets with clients prenatally in order to get a feel for your preferences and values, and together, the goal is to prepare and manage expectations while honoring your vision as much as safely possible. Birth doulas attend your birth and offer continuous support- we squeeze hips, hold hands, braid hair- we encourage partners to lean into their instincts, reset the room when we need a clarifying pause.
There are other kinds of doulas, too. If you could use support for the thing, a doula exists specific to the thing. There are postpartum doulas, who help you sterilize pump parts, wash your dishes while you debrief your birth story- they hold your baby in experienced arms while you nap or shower. Sometimes, they stay the night and act like a house fairy, so you can wake up with a few less things on your plate. The laundry is folded on top of the machine, and you may have slept through a few baby bottles. There are also fertility or preconception doulas, who hold space for the very many emotions that may arise throughout your journey of trying to get pregnant. There are adoption doulas, helping to bridge the gap between the paperwork and the playroom- the legal and human sides of adopting a child or choosing adoption- for birth and adoptive parents alike. There are abortion doulas, who support you through ending a pregnancy. They show up for you practically during your procedure, and emotionally before and afterwards. There are loss doulas, who walk with you as you navigate the loss of a wanted pregnancy, the loss of a child, of family members, partners, friends, loved ones- they work with any person who would like to be held and witnessed as they mourn a profound loss. There are death doulas, or end-of-life doulas, who support the closing of the circle of life transitions. Birth and death- the pillars of transition- are held in respect and in dignity. This may look like a vigil sitting during the crossing of the threshold, and holding space for what happens after. Those sauce-covered dishes again. That ever-regenerating pile of laundry.
Before, this was the village- the people who did those things without expectation. They did it because you were also their villager, and in the words of the brilliant Robin Wall Kimmerer, “all flourishing is mutual.” This was the unspoken gift- I will hold you, and because of our human nature, someday you will hold me.
Some people have been gifted this deep sense of community, born into the kind of life where cousins live one floor up, share tears and laughter into the late night, where neighbors borrow eggs and sugar and offer you some of what they made. Others are tasked with the need to create this allyship, to seek it out and nurture it so that it sustains. We show up to the soccer game, we watch our friends’ kids so they can go to their doctor’s appointment, we forgive our co-workers for snapping under pressure. This is the larger embrace, the reaching beyond ourselves. The outstretched arms.
Where does a doula fit into this? Why should we pay for a village when it is part of our tribal nature to create one? I’ve pondered this myself, while deep in this work and feeling the priceless glow of reciprocal gratitude- how can I ever put a dollar amount on this feeling? It helped to reframe this way: a doula does not replace the village, a doula helps to rebuild it.
Each time they share a comforting phrase, teach a nervous partner how to give counter pressure, connect learners at the end of childbirth education class- when they teach you the concept of a meal train, or share sticky notes of trusted resources that you hang with a fridge magnet- this reawakens the natural instinct to seek out and accept help. And then, when it feels intuitive, (because you’ve had it, and you know how restorative it is), to offer it.
“Doula” is just a fancy word, but the work is valuable. Like I said- rebuilding the village, creating the village: the larger embrace, the reaching beyond ourselves. The outstretched arms.
