How my doula dream was born

 "I can't do it. I'm not ready to be a mother."

Her eyes were wide and full of fear. Her hand gripped mine like a vice, not letting go.

"It's ok, honey, let's take a deep breath together. I know you're scared, but your body knows what's happening, the nurse is right here. I know you're strong, I know you're capable, and I know you have what it takes to be a mother."

A calm washed over me as I watched her eyes, too scared to cry, search for peace. She had no idea what was happening. This pregnancy was unexpected and unplanned. 

Her body pressed on, fully in control. We breathed together. I spoke soothing words into her ear and encouraged her to work with her body, not fight against it. Her breath came fast, but now measured. Her eyes were full of fear but slowly a focus took over. Her hand never stopped squeezing.

It was in these moments that I felt a sense of purpose, joy and excitement. Of course birth is full of intensity, challenge, pressure, pain and it was hard to see this girl try to grapple with it all in that moment. But we were together and I understood to a whole new measure what a calm and kind presence can do.

"I did it. I can't believe I did it."

"He's beautiful. He's mine." 

She wept as her little baby boy was placed against her skin. She looked up to me, the tears finally set free, and mouthed "thank you."

I left hours later and typed "how do I become a doula?" into google. 

As I look back on that birth I often wish I knew more or had more tools and supports to assist my friend as she experienced her first birth. But I wasn't a doula. I didn't have any training, I was only standing by her side to be there when she had no one else. But now I know more, and I never want to stop learning.

I am deeply grateful that she allowed me to be part of her birth story, that she invited me in to that sacred part of her life. I treasure that moment. It shaped me and inspired me.

Now as I look at my completed certification my heart and mind are full of ideas on what to do next and how to take steps to support more women as they bring life into the world - especially those that have no one else. 

Women in the Shadows

She can't spell, and she can't read, but she can cook and sew.  Her frail voice spoke disappointedly as she explained that she'd been pushed through school at a young age because she didn't learn like the other kids. Her tone changed to longing as she shared a desire to learn how to spell big words.
"I'm a fast learner" she declared, "and I'm a good memorizer.  That's the way I know some words.  And Anna, I taught myself how to crochet doilies by looking at the pictures."

My heart broke.

Her voice cracked on the phone.  She was found wandering in the rain and taken to a psychiatric hospital.  She had no where to go, she was alone, desperately longing to hear a familiar voice.  20 years addicted to heroine, now 20+ years clean.  Her eyes were shining several months before as she shared her story of how God rescued her from addiction - but choices have consequences, and we aren't given the opportunity rewind our story.

Tears began to fall.

She has a record, fair or unfair it's hard to tell, but it'll haunt her for the rest of her life.  Two pet dogs provide sanity as she juggles limited funds, insecure housing and constant scrutiny from every landlord, every application.  Her climbing credit score would now plummet due to unforeseen world events, a lengthened eviction and, as some would say, "plain bad luck."  But she's a fighter and won't give up.  A warm home is a luxury this woman is determined to find for herself.

I dry tears and dig deep into my soul.

These women won't give up.  They won't back down.  Sure, they won't make the history books.  They won't be known by anyone but creditors, social workers and beloved pets.  But these women will strive every day of their lives for a better existence.  An existence combined with failure, poor choices, strength, courage and a remarkable drive to never surrender to defeat.

Oh the lessons I can learn from these women living in the shadows.  Lessons I could learn it I take the time to sit down and listen to their stories, to walk alongside of them.  We learn best when we learn from each other.  When we lay aside differences, opinions and pasts, and listen to understand, to connect, to learn.

Some struggle through poor past decisions, a hard childhood, a string of circumstances I don't understand.  But when I open my eyes to see and my ears to hear, I find remarkable women I'm blessed to know.  And I'm lucky to learn from them.

Tangled Curls

Her hands twisted in her lap as she stared at the short curls that frizzed around her wide eyes. Uncertainty was evident.
An 11th grade girl was seated in the salon's beauty seat, a place where she clearly felt out of place.

I'd place her mid-twenties, the second figure in the mirror.
Gorgeous black curls swept up in a stylish mohawk ensured my onlooking eyes; this hairstylist knew exactly what to do.  She was a goddess - reigning secure in her ability to transform the wary figure before her.

She wasn't working magic; merely uncovering the beauty that lay beneath the build-up.

Skilled hands gently combed through the short tangles.  A soft voice asked questions and received answers that probably made her insides curl tighter than the hair in her hands. Curls were her specialty, this was obvious.  Not only did she know how to trim, wash and style them in the salon, but she knew just how they should be cared for on a regular basis.  Little by little she gave tips and insight.  The girl in the chair listened well.  Daily changes would need to take place, new habits formed, and although the appointment wasn't finished yet, she was soaking in every word.

Uneasiness washed away faster than the chemicals that coated each dark strand.  Fear was replaced with confidence.  Her curls needn't be a source of out-of-control confusion, but an expression of individuality.

I sat in the chair next to hers.  My own curls, though very different, had also gone through a transformation in this salon.  My own hair habits had needed change and skilled hands and a kind voice instructed me, only two short years before.

But as I sat, waiting for the red color to seep into my hair I couldn't help but think.

How often is beauty waiting just beneath the surface of a tangled life and poor choices?
Every life is beautiful, every soul in need of love - and a little kindness and patience.

Heart Attitude

I am blessed.

I take a look at my life and my heart is thankful.

I have so much.  I grew up with two godly parents who loved each other, modeled a righteous life and provided for my every need.  I had the world at my disposal. I don't know what would have been like to live in poverty, to help parents with rent, to come home from school to an empty house, to not be given a hug at least several times a day.

Yet I complain.  I grumble.  I want more.  I take my comfort for granted.  And though it's hard to say, I find myself judging those who are different then me. A bit prideful, much?  Seeing as though I did nothing to earn any of the above mentioned luxuries.

Jesus, change my heart. 

The last six months have been a journey for me.  A bit painful at times.  Because I've always considered myself loving, understanding, kind and open-minded.  But I was wrong.  Not entirely, but I don't want to stop my heart at "good enough" when it comes to loving people and seeing them as Jesus does.

Everyone has a story.
And it's a beautiful story.

Jesus, open my heart.

I have been praying for practical ways to live differently; to actually enact heart change.  Because for me, it's easy to love people and not seek to understand them.

And Jesus has given me two ways to do this.  Two ways to begin this journey of opening my heart to a new life of love and understanding.  Here they are;

Be a life-long learner.

Seek to be uncomfortable.

I also just want to say, I love this little space.  I writing real.  Writing from my heart.
May Jesus be lifted up and my own heart brought low.

When You Love So Much It Hurts

I care.  I care so much that my heart hurts.
We sit over coffee and I listen.  I try to really listen. To listen with my heart, not just to create a response.
Thoughts and feelings flood my soul.  I lean in.

The coffee mug is now empty, but my heart is full.
The day moves on, but my heart is stuck.

I can't fix it.  I'm helpless.  The problems, these heartaches, they are bigger than my ability.  Because let's be real, I think I can help people, but really it's only Jesus who has power enough to restore and redeem.

Trusting Jesus with the lives of those I love is harder for me than trusting Him with my own life and decisions.

But that's what He is asking me to do.  Trust Him.  Open my hand.  Listen and love and and then lift them to my Jesus.  Pray and pour out my heart to the One who loves them more.

Sometimes I need to lean in and take action.  And then sometimes I need to take a step back and pray.

For a girl who likes to do, to accomplish, to see things happen, to be a changer.  Nothing is harder than doing nothing.