True Story: I Kicked Out My Doula

This is true, I did kick out my doula, and I bet you’re wondering why.

Doulas are gentle, helpful, and trained to provide physical and emotional support to the mother during all stages of the labor and delivery process. So, why did I kick mine out after 10 minutes?

Before I get into it, let me provide a bit of context:

As first-time parents, my husband and I were completely clueless and terrified about labor and childbirth, so we enrolled in a 4-part pregnancy class through the hospital where we planned to deliver our daughter, Molly.

The woman teaching the class was the health services and education coordinator for the OB-GYN department and also happened to be the head of the volunteer doula program the hospital provided, and O.M.G, this woman was UH-mazing!

Her classes were so engaging and interesting, even my grumpy husband looked forward to attending each week.

We were both enraptured by how relatable and calm she was when describing something so scary and foreign, so when she told us she was a doula at our hospital, and the program was free, we were more than happy to sign up.

The downside to the program was that you didn’t get to choose your doula, nor were they available to you outside the delivery room, so I knew chances were slim that we would get the uh-mazing teacher we fell in love with.

Nevertheless, my hopes were high, and when a strange, though very kind, woman came in to my birthing room, I was instantly disappointed.

I decided to give her a chance and allowed her to show me different labor positions on the yoga ball, but with my back labor in full force, the only position that was remotely bearable was being on all fours on the hospital bed.

If you read Molly’s birth story, my labor was progressing rapidly shortly after I was admitted to the hospital. I had labored at home all evening and was running out of steam, and the doula’s birthing ball and massages were not working the magic I had imagined. All her touching and words of encouragement were starting to annoy me instead of encourage me.

A contraction came on strong and I bent over in pain, and the doula rubbed my back and said (and this is a direct quote): “Every contraction brings you closer to your little miracle!”

I turned to my husband with what must have been a wild-eyed death glare, because he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Would you mind leaving us alone for a minute?” He politely asked.

The doula obliged, and the second she left the room, I exploded, “DO NOT LET HER BACK IN HERE!!!” and followed my outburst with a plea for the epidural.

Poor, sweet volunteer doula. If you’re reading this, I deeply apologize for my hormonal rage. It’s not you, it’s me... Well, maybe it was a little you and your choice of words, but it’s ok.

After our “little miracle” came into the world, and we were promptly transitioned out of our delivery room to the recovery room, my husband and I were wheeling the bassinet down the hospital corridor and passed the UH-mazing doula who taught our pregnancy classes!

We smiled and said hi, and she gushed over our sleepy little peanut, all swaddled in her hospital blanket. Turns out, we missed her services by a few hours, but I wasn’t too disappointed, because in the end, I wasn’t meant to bring Molly into this world with the help of a doula.

I was open to getting the epidural and didn’t realize that doulas are more compatible with moms determined to have a natural birth, so it just didn’t work out for us.

The epidural came just at the right time, and I don’t feel like I “gave up” or regret my decision.

Everything happened just the way it should.

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