From the beginning of my research about starting my doula career, I’ve heard nothing but: “You should wait until your baby is older.”

I started my certification just shortly after I found out I was pregnant with my second baby. I had just decided the month before to start the process of certification when I got two pink lines on that beautiful test. As I went through my certification, the process was slow and hard. I had a hard time concentrating on my assignments and getting my births done. Every time I started to struggle, those negative thoughts came into my mind time and time again: maybe I should wait, maybe I can’t do both.

But I wanted to. I wanted to be not only a great mom, but also a great doula. I persevered. I did assignments as often as I could, and I kept at it.

We then found out just three short months after giving birth to baby #2 that we were expecting baby #3. That’s right folks! Three babies in three short years.

Again, the thoughts came.

​But I stuck through it. And you know something? I’ve learned that I can love my job and my babies at the same time. I admit it is hard to leave my babies for a birth sometimes. I just had a birth whre I was gone in bits and pieces for 38 hours. I had to pump every time I got a break! It was hard. No sleep. Missing my babies. First time away from baby #3 for more then a few hours since he was born. That's tough stuff. 

I’ve missed putting them to bed and reading them goodnight stories. I’ve missed them having fun. I miss family events because like most doulas, I don’t travel within my on-call period.

The one thing I’ve had to learn as a doula, and as a mom of 3 under 3, is the importance of self-care. I was going to births, being there until the early hours of daylight, then coming home and trying to be super mom. I was trying to clean house and take care of all 3 babies. I was exhausted after my first few birth. I was already burning myself out.

​I realized I needed to come home and eat, shower, and sleep, and with a supportive husband, I get help in this area. Bubble baths are still my favorite thing to do post birth -- you can’t give what you don’t have right?

Being a mom of 3 under 3 while balancing doula life is hard, but I get to see women at their strongest moments. I get to see life come into the world. I get to be a part of a family's greatest moment! And I can’t see much changing in the foreseeable future!

​I find childbirth to be an absolutely beautiful event. It is certainly not at all glamorous by any means, but it is such an amazing experience to view not only as a bystander, but also as a participant. I have had 4 children, all girls, with 4 completely different experiences. All 4 birth experiences, in addition to my losses, have shaped me into the woman I am today.

My youngest daughter is now almost 4 months old, and she was conceived the same month I had a miscarriage. The pregnancy went very well, but I was very afraid that my labor and delivery would mirror the delivery of my third daughter, Spirit, which was extremely traumatic. This led to a lot of anxiety and fear, despite my knowledge on the subject. It was for this reason that I hired a birth doula.

My due date was Saturday 11/21 and absolutely NOTHING was happening, only slight Braxton-Hicks here and there. My older kids were at my parents’ spending the weekend, so I figured it was the perfect time to put together my bed frame and make sure the room was arranged for baby’s arrival. So I took everything out of our room, and with a little help, put the bed frame together. My boyfriend Jermaine wasn’t too happy about it, but it needed to be done so I had access to our bedroom closet and I could start setting shit up. That probably should have been my sign that something was up since I was so determined to get it done RIGHT THEN, lol. Mind you, I had already partly cleaned my kitchen (still had dishes to do, but had cleaned the floor by hand and had already done enough dishes to fill the dishwasher and dish drain by the sink), and had cleaned my bathroom the day before.

Once I was done, I wanted to start putting everything back in our room, but Jermaine was hungry so we ordered food and I went to go get it. By that time it was about 8-8:30p, and still nothing was happening. I was exhausted and my back was starting to hurt a little, which I chalked up to it being from bending over to clean and work on the bed frame. We started getting ready for bed and I left the place a complete mess thinking “Oh, I’ll just get up early and move everything back, etc etc”.

So around 12:45-1a, the back pain was still just annoying and then suddenly got really intense. I posted on Facebook in a pregnancy group I was in asking if anybody had experienced back labor and what it felt like, and called my OB as I had began feeling some pressure as well. He told me to wait it out a little since I wasn’t having any contractions at all, but said he would call the hospital just in case I decided to go in so they knew to keep me. Right after I got off the phone with him, I used the bathroom and then went to bed. I woke up at about 3:45, 4a because I had to pee again (had been drinking tons of water to see if it would help the pain, which it had) and began feeling the intense back pain and pressure again. Still no contractions at that point, but I just couldn’t move much anymore so we decided to head to the hospital.

Because of the pain, it took me awhile to get dressed and then at about 4:30a, BAM! First contraction hit! And the back pain and pressure literally stopped and I was cool. Started timing the contractions and they were 3-5 min apart straight off the bat and lasting from 30-45 seconds each. So, through all the mess I had made, we grabbed my bag, got as dressed as I could, and we were out the door. In the hurry, I tried calling my doula, Sam, and couldn’t get in touch with her since my phone was acting screwy so to keep my anxiety down I just texted her what was going on and updates as they happened.

When we got to the hospital, we were immediately taken to triage after they verified my documentation and weighed me. In triage, they hooked me up to the monitors and checked me. I was a stretchy 4-5 cm dilated, had bulging membranes, and was almost completely effaced, this was at about 5:15a. They moved me into my room, which had a relaxation tub, and immediately started filling it up for me. That tub was AWESOME!!!!!! Definitely consider laboring in a tub of warm water if you can, it feels ABSOLUTELY AMAZING!

​So, my doula comes and having her there was so relaxing and completely made the difference between a good, stress-free experience and a stressful, anxiety filled experience. I labored in the tub for about 2 hours and only got out to use the bathroom. At about 7:50, the contractions that hadn’t been bothering me suddenly felt different and I was feeling much more pressure so I asked to be checked. I told them that if I was a 7 or less, I wanted the epidural but if I was more than 7, I would tough it out. As soon as I stood up, I got hit with the most intense contractions back to back that I had EVER felt. After about 5-10 min of contractions where I couldn’t move, I finally made it over to the bed. I couldn’t sit, it was unbearable so I was on all fours moaning through the contractions. 

​The nurse checked me and I was at a 7, so they hooked me up to fluids and called the anesthesiologist for my epidural. My Dr. and a midwife came in and right then I got the unbearable urge to push and couldn’t stop, so they helped me roll over, my water broke, and in 2 pushes (about 2-3 minutes), my little rainbow was Earthside and super alert! 6lbs, 19.25in long, no stitches or repairs needed, and the anesthesiologist walked in not even a minute after she was born to give the meds, lol.

​Oh, and did I mention that this was my second VBAC!

The night after my first birth as a doula I couldn’t sleep -- I was very sad, very tired, and very quiet.
 
“My water broke, no contractions yet, the midwife told me to go to the hospital at five.” I was on a bus, busy with formalities when I received the mom’s text. I went back to my house as soon as I could, checked-in with my doula group on WhatsApp, washed my hair, got my doula bag, printed DONA certification papers, and left. Filled with excitement and adrenaline, I was happy. At last, 2 years after my first doula course, 3 months after my DONA training, a mama had trusted me to be her doula, and I was over the moon; although I knew this wasn’t the best scenario.
 
“Remember all our plans? Well, we are going to let them go.” I said that to the mom, but I was saying it to myself, too. An hour later I was in her bedroom, had turned the lights down, and understood that the couple’s choice was to go soon to the hospital. I had half an hour to time contractions. With the birth ball, rebozo in dad’s hands, and massage, a few contractions came -- shy, like someone who comes into a new place and doesn't know what to do. Respecting their decision to leave for the hospital at five (we had an hour or so of driving), I suggested we go.
 
“Wait, I have to do some stuff before -- get me the hair iron.” So there I was, with a mom about to go to the hospital not in labour -- but I was supporting with love what was important to her though it wasn't ideal to me. I took the iron, and while she was on the birth ball I did my best so she wouldn't realise I have no experience with hair irons (my hair is so straight!), and my fingers were burning. I took my time, this was important to the mom, so it was important to me. When I finished I helped the dad so he wouldn't forget anything. She put on perfume, called for a car, and we were out.
 
“It’s not a big deal, just relax yourself.” The driver had been a policeman, and he had attended three births himself. I think this man knew more about births than a lot of OBs. The energy in the car was pretty high, there was confidence and smiles, but the mom already knew that as soon as she entered the hospital, the interventions and protocols and rules would start.
 
“We’re going to try a vaginal birth, ok? But you know that at 37 weeks, your cervix is immature, and a c-section, is always a possibility, ok?” The midwife talked to the mama, but she was in another place. She sadly signed admission papers -- each form was a broken expectation given away with her street clothes and her credit card. 
 
“Everything is perfect, Clari. There’s always a bigger plan than the one we can see or understand.” The WhatsApp group of my doula-mates was strong, careful, douling the doula. The same group that replied when I asked for a photo of “Labouring in bed” by Penny Simkin. In the hospital, I learned I would not able to be with the couple in the room -- rules are rules and only one person goes with the mama. We all sat in the waiting room. I lent my doula stuff to the dad and gave him some advice and information. When the mom was finally called, she was so upset I didn’t know what to say as they walked away.
 
The waiting room was full with grandmas, aunts, sisters and expecting couples. Absolutely every birth of that afternoon/night was a cesarean birth. C-sections were so many that the OR was full all the time. I cried a little, then got calmed -- I did my best, there was nothing I could do but wait, think positively about them, pray a bit, and wait some more. We were on the 10th floor, and as I watched elevator numbers rise up, I tried to visualize it was the mom progressing to 10. I listened to sticky-sweet love songs on TV, and whenever I opened WhatsApp, my doulas were always there, supporting me.
 
No news. I texted the dad, sending him inspirational pictures, advice, good intentions -- they knew I was there. Time passed and I thought that maybe so many scheduled c-sections (Easter holidays were coming) would give her some time to progress. Five hours later, I saw the OB, and then the midwife.
 
“The baby was born.” I never, ever wrote a message so fast. I needed them, I needed my doulas. Their experience was my support, their words, my relief. I asked the midwife if everything was fine and she said yes, “she didn’t progress and she had a c-section." She said I was able to see them now. I started to go down the stairs. I cried. I cursed. I read messages of support, of the lovely presence beyond this hospital, doula sisters. I held my tears and entered the room.
 
“You know how this works… doulas, midwifes, the more you know about it, the worse it is.” I thought the worst was over, I was wrong. There was the midwife, putting poison in mom’s mind with her words, blaming the c-section on a painful tired new mama who knew too much or had too much support, who was still dealing with anesthesia. I turned down the lights, stroked the mama, and watched a new mama with her baby -- the greatest love that exists, the one that heals everything.

La noche de mi primer acompañamiento como doula no pude dormir, estaba muy triste, muy cansada, y también muy tranquila.
 
“Rompí bolsa, estoy sin contracciones, la partera me indicó que me interne a las 5.” Estaba en un colectivo yendo a hacer trámites cuando recibo el mensaje de la mamá. Volví a mi casa lo más rápido que pude, di aviso a mi grupo de doulas, me lavé el pelo, agarré las cosas, imprimí los papeles de DONA y salí. Después de la excitación y la adrenalina inicial, disfruté. Por fin, después de 2 años de mi primer formación de doula, a 3 meses de la capacitación de DONA, una mamá había confiado en mí, y yo estaba en las nubes de la felicidad, aunque sabía que el escenario no era el mejor.
 
“¿Viste todos nuestros planes? Bueno, los vamos a soltar.” Se lo dije a la mamá pero me lo dije a mí misma. Una hora después estaba en su cuarto, había bajado las luces, y comprendido que el deseo de la pareja era llegar pronto al sanatorio. Tenía media hora para llamar a las contracciones. Con la pelota, un poco de manteo de parte del papá y masajes, fueron llegando algunas contracciones, tímidas, como quien recién llega a un lugar nuevo y no sabe bien qué hacer. Respetando el deseo de llegar puntual a la institución (teníamos una hora o más de viaje), sugerí ir saliendo.
 
“Esperá, antes tengo que hacer cosas, alcanzame la planchita.” Ahí estaba yo, con una mamá a punto de internarse sin trabajo de parto, acompañando con profundo amor lo posible, lo real, dejando de lado lo ideal. Agarré la planchita y mientras ella estaba en la pelota, hice mi mejor esfuerzo para que no se note que soy casi inexperta en el tema (mi pelo es hiper lacio) y que me quemaba los dedos. Me tomé mi tiempo, esto era importante para ella, así que fue importante para mí. Al terminar ayudé al papá a que no se olvide nada, ella se puso perfume, llamó al remís y nos fuimos.
 
“No es nada del otro mundo, solamente hay que relajarse.” El remisero había sido policía, y había atendido él mismo 3 partos en vía pública. Hoy creo que el remisero sabe más de partos que muchos médicos. La energía en el auto estaba alta, había confianza y sonrisas, pero la mamá ya sabía que apenas pise el sanatorio, empezaría el baile del protocolo institucional.
 
“Vamos a tratar de que sea por vía vaginal, ¿sí? Pero igualmente vos sabés que en semana 37 el cuello está inmaduro y que la opción de la cesárea siempre está, ¿sí?” La partera le hablaba pero ella estaba en otro lado. Firmaba los papeles de la internación con tristeza, cada formulario era una expectativa que se iba, que debía entregar junto con su ropa de calle y la tarjeta de crédito.
 
“Todo es perfecto Clari. Siempre hay un plan más grande que el que podemos ver o entender.” El grupo de whatsapp con mis compañeras doulas atento, firme, douleando a la doula. El mismo grupo que respondió de la mejor manera cuando les pedí una foto de “Trabajo de parto en la cama” de Penny Simkin. Ya me habían dicho que no podía pasar, que por normas sólo pasa una persona, que es la misma que luego entra a sala de partos. Nos sentamos a esperar la internación, le pasé mis cosas de doula al papá, le di consejos, y le reenvié la información de Penny Simkin. Cuando la vinieron a buscar, el ánimo de la mamá estaba tan bajo que no supe qué decirle.
 
En la sala de espera había abuelas, tías, hermanas, parejas. Absolutamente todos los nacimientos de esa tarde/noche habían sido por cesárea, tantos que el quirófano no daba a basto. Lloré un poco y después me calmé, había dado lo mejor de mí y ya no podía hacer nada más que esperarlos afuera, pensar positivamente en ellos, rezar un poco, y esperar. Estábamos en el piso 10, miraba los números que indican en qué piso está el ascensor y visualizaba que era ella quien progresaba a 10. Escuchaba canciones melosas en la tele. Abría whatsapp, las doulas ahí, conteniendo, acompañando.
 
No hay noticias, buenas noticias. Le escribía al papá por whatsapp con imágenes inspiradoras, consejos, buenas intenciones, ellos sabían que yo estaba ahí. El tiempo pasaba, pensé que tantas cesáreas programadas (ay, los médicos, se acercaba Semana Santa) quizás le den tiempo. Cinco horas más tarde, veo pasar al obstetra, y luego sale la partera.
 
“Ya nació.” Nunca escribí tan rápido un whatsapp, las necesitaba, necesitaba a mis doulas, su experiencia era mi sostén; sus palabras, mi consuelo. Pregunto a la partera si estaba todo bien, me dice que sí, que no progresó y fue a cesárea y que podía pasar a verlos. Empiezo a bajar la escalera. Lloro, puteo. Caen mensajes de contención, de presencia amorosa incluso a la distancia, mensajes de doula. Bajo la escalera, contengo las lágrimas, espero a que salgan las enfermeras y el obstetra y paso a verlos.
 
“Viste cómo es esto, doulas, parteras, cuanto más sabés… peor es.” Pensé que había pasado lo peor, pero no, ahí estaba la partera, culpando a una mamá dolorida, cansada, aún bajo los efectos de la anestesia, poniendo veneno en el suero con sus palabras. Bajé las luces, acaricié a la mamá, y contemplé el amor más grande que existe, el que todo lo cura. 

​

I was all for a doula, once I realized what doulas do. While pregnant, my wife's idea of a fun night together was sitting at the library, pulling down pregnancy book, after birth book, after breast feeding book, after baby book, and telling me all the things I needed to know. My idea of a fun night together was...not this. Don't get me wrong, when it is time for me to buy a TV or a car or a grill I am all about reading up on all the specs and reviews I can possibly find. When it came to having a baby, I was content to just go along with the flow; I didn't know there was much choice out there or options to decide between. Bottom line: if a doula was an encyclopedia of all-about-babies-and-how-they-get-here, then sign me up...because I need to focus on the best carseat and crib and baby bath.

Our doula came to our house and brought information when we needed it. When my wife had a question and wanted the best information about it, bingo, best sources without having to scour the internet. 

When I was out of town for work our doula was on call, ever though it wasn't really close to my wife's duedate. For me, knowing our doula could be with my wife in case labor happened while I was gone, gave me a sense of comfort. 

I heard a doctor say once, when presenting a pivotal intervention to the family I was working with, "If you were my wife, this is what I would do." It truly does offer the feeling: "He really cares about me." This is actually a fallacy -- faulty emotional appeal. It isn't based on science, or evidence, or the unique needs of mother and baby. It is simply an opinion said with feeling, and it can be swaying. Maddie McMahon hits the nail on the head here, and she offers sage wisdom to those of us who work with families -- families who may be vulnerable to the words we say and feel with emotion, that may not exactly be the truth.

These are the kinds of things I hear parents saying quite a bit, and they always remind me that being kind is just not enough. Meaning well is just not enough. Smiling and speaking gently is just. not. enough.

​There is a lot of talk in health care about compassion. And so there should be. It should pretty much be a core quality of anyone working in a caring role. Compassion means having a deep understanding and sympathy for another’s suffering. It also means wanting to do something to fix that suffering and take it away.

The problem is, compassion on its own can be a problem. If we believe we can make this all better, if we believe we know better, if we can’t bear to see present or potential future suffering, if even the idea of risk is frightening, then compassion can be dangerous.

Compassion needs to be tempered and balanced with empathy. The ability to enter into another person’s feelings, to see the world through someone else’s eyes. It is this ability that allows us not to get caught up in our own emotions and not get swayed by our own assumptions as to what might be right of wrong for this person. It is empathy which allows us to step outside of ourselves, just a little, and make space to really listen – and more than listen, understand WHY someone might feel the way they do.

So my plea to you wonderful, compassionate practitioners out there, whether you are doctors or midwives or nurses or lay supporters like doulas: Please try not to coerce with your kindness. Is this mother doing as she’s told because you’re so kind and she doesn’t want to upset you, or is she making a fully informed decision? Are you laying YOUR stuff on her or are you truly holding the space while she looks at the benefits and risks of all her options then follows her heart? True kindness and care means trusting that those we care for can make safe, appropriate decisions for themselves, even if we disagree with them.

My New Year resolution this year is to pour a cup of Alongsideyou Tea and strive to listen harder and longer and deeper, whenever I can to everyone I meet and give my empathy muscles a workout.

I had been looking forward to Sunday afternoon all week. A local midwife (and friend!) was throwing an open-house party to reveal her new office and birth suite. There was to be a petting zoo, bounce house, food, families, and fun. I couldn't wait, and I excitedly brought my mom and Ezra along for the ride. 

LaMonica Bryant, LM, CPM, has been a midwife since 1999. She offers homebirth services to families in Kern, Tulare, and Kings Counties. LaMonica is based outside of Bakersfield, and after moving to a farm with more room, it was time to create a dedicated office space. It was also decided to include a birth suite, for situations when families may want the option of out-of-hospital birth closer to town than they may be. 

I arrived to the party, eager to check out the new space and visit with LaMonica. I saw many friends, including my own midwife, Linda Cowley, who had helped me birth Ezra. Tables were set up and food was near, so I sat and visited for a bit, always keeping an eye out for LaMonica as I wanted to tour the new space with her. After about a half hour, another friend came to our table and whispered something about there being a baby born that morning. 

Let me back up: LaMonica was pregnant, due around Valentine's Day. Her party's date was supposed to have been far enough ahead of her baby's date to not get the two mixed up. But as we all know, sometimes baby's have other plans!

The night before the party, around 11 pm, LaMonica's water broke! Labor ensued, and at 6:17 am, on the day of the planned party, Jasper was born! A short while later LaMonica's husband asked what they were going to do about the party? LaMonica said, the food was bought, the bounce house was on its way, so the show must go on! A bit bewildered, I would imagine, her husband agreed -- as long as she promised to stay in the house, in bed, with her baby.

Thanks to fellow doula, Melissa Hettick, for sharing pictures of the office/suite.

Jill and Carol are positive that if I hadn't had Marsha and Becky encouraging me to change positions and move around, or if I had been unwilling or unable to do so, I would have needed a cesarean because of Baby K's position. He just wouldn't have descended at all. I also think that my pelvis was able to shift and move to get him out partly because I was seeing a chiropractor throughout my pregnancy and my joints were nice and loose. I'm also lucky that I had a midwife who let me push for so long. I'm really lucky that Baby K and I both physically handled labor well and I was able to have a med-free birth like I hoped for. I also couldn't have done it without Justin. He was with me through every single contraction, and he helped me focus my energy while pushing. I am a lucky, lucky, lucky woman. 

Doula work made me fall in love with birthing women. The sacredness and magic that surrounds them as they work so hard to bring their babies into the world is intoxicating to be around. After working as a doula for the past seven years, I made the leap to enroll in nursing school, with the goal of working as a labor and delivery nurse for a while, then becoming a midwife.

I had no idea what nursing school would be like, only that it was extremely hard to get in to. I am now in the last week of my first semester, with four more semesters to go, and honestly, I can't believe I made it through my first semester. Nursing school is hard,  people told me. I had no idea just how hard it really was. But now I truly do.

As a doula, I have been right there when women who were so elated to be having a baby before labor began, suddenly expressed that they just couldn't go on. And I was there when, indeed, they did go on to birth their baby, despite all their doubts. They made it through the other side of labor and birth. It is this inner journey and challenge that I have witnessed so many times that has helped me get through this first semester.

I have often thought of the strength I witnessed as a doula, to get me through the tough days of nursing school. As I held on for dear life, going through the rollercoaster of emotions, joys, and challenges of becoming a student nurse, I drew some similarities between nursing school and becoming a mom.

Stage 1: Wow! I'm pregnant! (Or I can't believe I got into nursing school!)
When a mom finds out she pregnant, some great emotion is sure to overtake her, whether it be elation, surprise, sadness, or anxiety. At first she might not believe it's really happening, but eventually the reality settles in.

When I found out I got into nursing school, I cried. Getting into nursing school in California is no small feat. I was one of forty students to be accepted (out of 174 applicants!) and I was in total shock that I actually got in. I started dreaming and planning, and getting ready for the semester to start.

Stage 2: Wait, I didn't know I was signing up for this!
After the initial shock, joy, or acceptance settles in, the gravity of the life altering event which is motherhood is realized. Hopefully she won't get too overwhelmed by all of the choices, options, and decisions she needs to make as she prepares to go into labor.

My pride that I got accepted into nursing school was quickly forgotten as I settled in as a student. Beginning the first day, we had reading assignments and a presentation due. It became clear that yes, I had accomplished a huge hurdle by simply getting in, but the hardest part was yet to come.

Stage 3: I can not possibly go on any longer
This is the point at which moms who were planning a drug-free birth use all of their inner strength to just make it through the next breath. Thinking too far into the future leads to desperation and fear that it will never get better.

There were many a days this first semester when I just wanted to curl up into a ball and not deal with the stress, and the huge workload, and the pressure to not mess up during clinical. Some mornings I was in tears as I got ready for school, and I had to take a deep breath and not think too much about what was due the next week, and how I had to wake up at 4:30 in the morning the next day.

Stage 4: I did it!
Whatever her doubts, whatever her fears, she did it. Even if things didn't follow her carefully written birth plan, she accomplished what she set out to do: have a baby. The journey there was important, and she went through many travails to get there, but the fact that she herself grew a baby and birthed it is something no one can take away from her. She feels part of something bigger than herself -- a connection with all other mothers that have come before her and given birth.

Despite my tears, and my anxiety, and my mistakes, I have made it through my first semester. I have one more week left in my first semester of nursing school, and I have so much more respect now for nurses. My aunt who's a nurse recently told me "this will be the hardest two years of your life" and I don't doubt that she's right! But another nurse family friend told me "if you can make it through the first semester, you will make it the whole way."

Stage 5: Be gentle with yourself
New moms might feel lots of different emotions after the birth is all said and done. Maybe they are disappointed with how they acted, maybe they wish they could go back and do things differently. But then (hopefully) they look down at that sweet new baby, take a breath, and realize no matter how they did it, they accomplished a major feat. They deserve to be pampered, and they should know how strong and courageous they really are.

I've made mistakes this first semester that I desperately wish I could take back. But you know what? When I stopped hounding myself, and looked around at my classmates, I realized we're all making mistakes. That's the beauty of being a student. That's how we learn. I know I did my best.

Nursing school is indeed so much harder than I ever imagined it to be. I simply had no idea what to expect. I prepared for it, printed and read all my syllabi before class, had all my supplies in order, but there was simply no way to make this semester easier. There was no way to get around the stress and the emotions, I simply had to go through it.

Just as a mom must go through her labor, whatever twists and turns it takes her on, she will have that baby in her arms. And I will graduate with my Bachelor's of Science in Nursing and become an RN. I just know I will.

I have doula clients right now I LOVE. This is the first official birth I have taken since Ezra was born and we moved away from Chico. They are an awesome couple, and I can't wait for their birth! At our first meeting, the mom shared her birthplan with me. While she knew the importance of advocating and working to make decision that would shape her experience, she wasn't sure how to best format her birthplan. To get the ball rolling, she formatted her plan after a template a relative used.

While I love birthplans as it gets mom and partner talking and on the same page, there are lots of things I don't like about them -- the biggest one being, when they are offered up like a terrorist's list of demands to hospital staff (I am sure I have Teri Shilling or Connie Sultana to attribute that to). Looking for a more engaging, palatable way to offer one's wishes for birth is something I whole-heartedly agree with. Along those lines, I came with a few examples of birthplans for this couple to contemplate.

I have to admit, I found this picture-birthplan in a doula group online, and I am still working on citing that doula to give her credit -- once I have it, I will post it here. My client borrowed this template to use for her birthplan, and she shared it with me last night. See, I am there, as is our back-up doula, who has also been invited to the birth...we both have bags, although my back-up's bag is lost in her mane of gorgeous hair!

Now, which birthplan is more appealing to you? Which one says, "I am a Type-A personality, trying to control every aspect of birth?" Which one says, "I am fun and flexible!" Which one invites help and support? Which one might contribute to defensive or negative feelings?

Most of us know we can't control everything about birth -- and we do know our choices shape our memories -- even when things don't go exactly as we imagined. When crafting your plans for birth, get creative, be different, and don't be afraid to show your personality!