If, on this Mother's Day, I was to thank one person who played a role in my own motherhood it would be our doula Shayla.
Technically she started as our birthing class instructor.
Jon and I were a tad behind the ball in signing up for birthing classes when I was pregnant with Owen. The hospital courses were booked through March. I was due Jan 30. No one told me that you need to sign up for a class the same day you see the second blue line.
It was one of the best things that ever happened to us.
After a little freaking out (by me) I did what I do best. Researched all our options, over and over and over again. We decided on taking some Bradley Method classes. They're 12 weeks long and I felt comfortable knowing that we'd be investing a little time to learn how this baby was going to make his grand entrance.
Shayla made the whole process seem so...normal. You hear the labor horror stories all the time, right? This was one of the first times I had heard that labor didn't have to be that horror story. That there could be dignity, support, ability, peace. And yes, work. But even then it seemed doable and as my due date drew closer I actually began to look forward to labor as if it was an amazing experience, a miracle that I'd been given the chance to participate in.
I was confident in Jon's ability to help me through the process. After 12 weeks he had mastered the basics. Massage, encouragement, massage, repeat. But we were a little nervous about all the remaining unknowns. What if something did go wrong? What if the baby was stubborn? What if the pain was stronger than I anticipated? Jon and I both felt like we'd be more comfortable if we had someone there to monitor the process, someone who'd translate hospital-ese for us if needed, someone who knew what I was going through and who could work with us even if the doctor or nurse wasn't there. Someone who could spot Jon if he needed a break.
Shayla jumped into that role and was amazing. She met us at the very beginning, two nervous, excited pre-parents, trying their best to stay calm and focused. She helped us in about a million ways during those 14 hours (and I probably only remember about a tenth of it all). And at the end, she made sure we were happy and safe before she slipped out, leaving us basking in the glow of our new baby boy.
It was hard, hard work. It amazes me that she helped us with such quiet grace and strength the entire time. The nurses stopped in periodically, the doctor was there for the delivery, but Shayla was there every moment.
Birth is a vulnerable time, especially for a new mother. I'm grateful that when I play back those memories I feel only peace. I'm grateful that those hospital classes were full of snappy, on the ball parents so that we had to look for other options. And, while it may be an unlikely pick for a Mother's Day shout out, today I'm thankful for our wonderful doula. If only everyone could have that kind of support there probably wouldn't be as many of those labor horror stories.
Thanks for being a part of our happy story, Shayla.
Happy Mother's Day!
