Diary of a Pregnant Doula

Last summer my husband was abroad on business and I woke up the morning my period was due feeling different. Weird isn't it...that a tiny line encased in a crappy overpriced piece of plastic can represent the magnitude of what is happening inside a woman's body, the vastness of the journey ahead and the feeling that everything, EVERYTHING is going to change beyond recognition and the unfathomable mystery of how that's exactly going to look. It takes my breath away and the air is heavy with overwhelm cut only by the occasional nervous giggle and excited flurry of butterflies rising in my throat.

Three children. I am full of gratitude. I know first hand some of the heartache of wanting a child and wondering if it's actually written in the stars for me. I know the feelings of guilt, anger, jealousy, yearning, heavy disappointment, physical pain and bodily disgust. I have supported friends and clients through their own journeys of sadness. This opportunity to grow, birth and parent another human truly is a gift.

So, our new gift will be arriving sometime around Easter time 2019. This is my first pregnancy as a birth keeper and my career and knowledge has already made a difference to my experience vs my previous pregnancies.

When I shared our news on social media and began opening the door a little on my personal experience of pregnancy, I received a flood of messages asking me to share more. It would seem that some are curious about how a doula might journey through pregnancy and birth. I've wrestled with this idea of baring myself so publicly (I'm more of an introvert and this doesn't come naturally to me), and after much to-ing and fro-ing I've decided to share some bits and pieces and see how it goes.

Why does my experience matter? It doesn't really. Well, not to anyone else other than my family and I. It's another story in the www. ocean of personal experiences. Like an ocean, there are areas where one ship would not want to venture but others might. It's up to each individual woman to find the stories that she wants to read, from which she may gleam some solace, insight and enjoyment. I am choosing to simply add mine to the throng. As a doula my perinatal (pregnancy to motherhood) journey is no better/worse than anyone else's, it's just different. Every decision my husband and I will make is the culmination of 1000s of variables, some of which I could articulate and many of which I'm not even fully aware of because they sit at an unconscious level, informed by everything that has occurred in my life up to this very moment. And as shared decision makers, there are my husband's variables too. The context of every one of our choices is deeply complex, just as is yours. I cannot comprehend all the reasons behind my clients' decisions, nor do I need to. I wholeheartedly accept that this is the right journey for them and I support them without judgement, with love and respect.

If you choose to delve into my pregnancy diary, you will be reading my journey, unique as it is and effected by much more than I could ever explain to you. It is not a reflection of my opinions of what others 'should' do...I have no such opinions. Your journey is yours and yours alone...how can I possibly say that because I made one choice, that that's the right thing for everyone and by implication, that it's somehow better. I am not you. What is right for me will not be 'right' for you and visa versa. The internet is full of people using their personal stories to tell others what's 'better' or what they 'should' do and it's bullshit.

So there it is. A little bit of background on me and my reasons for choosing to share my third pregnancy journey should you wish to dip in.

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I'M A FINALIST: Pregnancy, Baby & Child Awards 2018

If you’ve landed on my HOME page you may have noticed a massive badge announcing the exciting news that Your Tiny Human (ie. Me) is a FINALIST for best Pregnancy Class in the Pregnancy, Baby & Child Awards 2018.

This is the first awards ceremony of it's kind in Norfolk and I am SO PROUD to be a part of something so great for the region. This award has brought together so many of the wonderful individuals and small businesses that offer an incredible variety of services for the parents and children of Norfolk. It has been such a joy to see how lucky we are here to have so much at our fingertips.
In my category, Pregnancy Class, there are some superb businesses that were nominated and I know so many more besides. As pregnancy classes and support in Norfolk continues to grow, it is exciting to be in the midst of it all, contributing to the smörgåsbord of options and support for women and their families.

I never expected to be a finalist and I am on cloud nine. I cannot wait to celebrate at the award ceremony in December and am excited to see the outcome of the judging. However, the glam frock choosing situation has brought me out in a bit of a cold sweat. Can I get away with my ubiquitous shirt dress, jeans and boots if I pop some sparkly jewellery on?

I cannot thank my wonderful clients, colleagues and friends for you support and for taking the time to vote for me. You've made this little one woman band a little teary and very very happy.

Siobhán

xxxx

A Love Letter to my Student Midwife

Dear (former) Student Midwife,

You may not remember me, but I will never forget you.

We first met in 2012. I'd never grown a human before. I'd never birthed a human before. I'd never trusted my generally dysfunctional body before.

I found my first few midwife appointments intimidating. Not because our community midwives weren't lovely (they so were), but more because I felt under scrutiny in medical environments. And when you see a different midwife every single time, it's hard to feel...a connection. I was in need of a connection. There was so much I didn't know, that I didn't know I didn't know it. Know what I mean? “Any questions?”, an unfamiliar kindly face would say to me. “Ummm....no. I don't think so” I replied - subtext: I mean...actually probably hundreds, thousands in fact. May I just sit here, with you and let the thoughts un-jumble in the fog of unknowing and emerge into comprehensible words, slowly, clumsily, over the course of hours? “OK, see you at the next appointment”.

Then there was you dear student midwife. You arrived at one of our appointments and looked at me with bright enthusiastic eyes. You really LOOKED at me. You greeted me like we were meeting in the pub. Two women, not pregnant lady and keeper of the information. You looked at my husband, you smiled at him and chatted to him. You asked us if we'd be one of your case studies. “Of course!” we said.
You gave us your number so we could text you with any appointments or updates. That made me feel like I would be in your thoughts. I felt held. We texted you when we went for scans and your excitement and eagerness to see photos made my heart swell. These 'small' acts made us feel like you were walking this journey with us. Like we were the only people in the whole world having a baby and we were so special. I felt held. Whenever I saw you at appointments I'd light up and was eager to share with you.

Then finally our birthing day arrived and I was so excited about messaging you. You were the only person (aside from the hospital) whom we told labour had started. We knew you might not make it. We knew you might not be released from lectures or might be elsewhere. “I so hope she's there” I whispered between contractions in the car to the maternity unit. And there you were. With your bright eyes, and your beaming smile and your softness and your friendliness and we were just friends in a pub. And it was lovely. You were mine. My midwife. My familiar face. My continuous carer throughout. You were walking our journey with us and you would be there to the end. I was excited to share our moment with you.

You and your colleague were all that I could ever have hoped for and more. You had heard all our wishes and you stayed with us - sitting, watching, respectfully, patiently, lovingly. I felt held. I went into myself and I connected with my body, because you made me feel safe to do so. Because I trusted you, and believed you trusted me, I allowed myself to trust my birthing process and just work my labour. Sometimes I opened my eyes and looked into the room and I would make eye contact with you, and I would hear your colleague whispering words of gentle awe and I felt held. WE felt held.

In our first moments as parents, you sat with us, watching us in that euphoric bubble for which there are no words. You told me how amazing I had been, how strong I was and I felt incredible. Just before you bid us goodbye, you gave our son his first skin side gift. I shed a tear after you left. You had given us so much and I couldn't find the words to tell you. I couldn't find any words. Words after such a colossal universe shift seemed so...pithy.

You may not remember us, but I will never forget you. And we talk about you sometimes, my son and I. “Mummy, this is my bunny from the lady when I was born. It's a special bunny”, “yes babe, it really is and that lady taught me the power of a woman just 'being' with woman”.

Thank you for choosing us and thank you for being the midwife you were, I hope you have some idea of how much it meant and what a gift you are.

Love,

Siobhán