WTF IS A DOULA?

By David Nurieli

You know what scared me the most the day my wife went into labor?

If you guessed baby, you were wrong. It was my wife.

From the moment my wife shared with me the news that we were expecting our first child, my mind kicked into dad gear. There weren’t any qualms whatsoever about bringing a new human into this world; I literally learned everything about parenting on the fly. I spent time reading zero books, despite my wife raving about one in particular.

Needless to say, preparing for the actual delivery and tending to a hormonal, basketball carrying wife… not my forté.

For years leading up to her pregnancy, she’d throw out comments about her biggest fear in life was to “push a baby out of her vagina.” I mean, I get it. I can hardly have my blood taken without turning blue.

Naturally, the conversation about a doula’s participation in our birth plan was subliminally planted throughout the duration of our marriage.

A few years following the birth of my first son, Judah, I was riding in an Uber Pool with a colleague of mine, you know, back when Uber Pool was not a cesspool for COVID. I was explaining how much I appreciated our doula’s involvement and how she literally saved my life in the final weeks leading up to the delivery, and how she was absolutely on our callback list for baby #2.

Suddenly, some random guy sitting in the front seat, blatantly eavesdropping, turns around to thank me for my insight. His wife was expecting and considering hiring a doula. Admittedly, he hadn’t the slightest clue as to what a doula was or did.

In other words, his wife saw it was cool to have a doula on Instagram and basically told her husband: I need you to shell out more money prior to this kid being born, to add yet another person in the delivery room (at least during non-pandemic times), who is not a doctor, not a spouse, not a family member and not the infant.

So, what the actual fuck is a doula?

For simplicity’s sake, let’s call them a birth coach or an angel from above. They typically do not have medical training but they still somehow know pretty much everything there is to know about ushering new life into this world. Their role is to do these critical things:

Empowering and educating your spouse as she prepares her birth plan.

What’s a birth plan you might ask? It’s basically a playbook for how she’d like her labor and delivery experience to go. Would she prefer a natural delivery or medical intervention? If with an epidural, when would she like to administer it? How would she prefer to be positioned during delivery? Believe it or not, you don’t need to just be on your back like they show in the movies. What are the various labor stages? When should you actually head to the hospital?

Navigating the fucking system that is doctors and hospitals.

I can’t tell you how much this helped me. Both from a mapping perspective – like literally where to go to check-in, but also, from a “hey, you have a right to push back if you don’t agree with something the medical personnel advises or requests of you.” New parents are trained to always assume doctors and nurses are leading the procedures so we often don’t think to question their judgments and processes. But guess what?! You can use your voice!

Making your spouse feel emotionally and physically comfortable.

Watching your partner labor is by far one of the most barbaric, out of body experiences you’ll ever come across in your life. It’s also beautiful to witness women in their most natural, raw state of being.

Apparently, there are all these organic, homeopathic remedies – teas, oils, etc. – that help alleviate pains and discomfort. I would have never known that Mother’s Milk Tea is a recommended herbal supplement for women to increase or maintain a healthy milk supply or that Papaya Enzymes help alleviate heartburn.

Also, I’ll admit it; my massages are shit. I would be the worst at offering my wife a back rub in her most desperate and vulnerable time of need. Enter doula saviour! Plus she knew just how to position my wife in a way that allowed for her to manage the pressure while counting her contractions and whispering soothing words of affirmation in her ear.

And what did I do? I just sat on the sidelines being floored by the fact that men truly are worthless species.

Assessing the progression of the pregnancy.

There are three stages of labor – Early, Active, and Transition – with the average length of time totalling more than 20 hours for first time moms. If it weren’t for our doula, I would have rushed my wife to the hospital after her water broke at the Target parking lot. Then we would have basically spent the next ten hours sitting in the ER waiting room. Instead, our doula told us to chill at home, wait until my wife was around 7 centimeters dilated, and then head to the hospital.

Assisting with the postpartum transition.

A few days after the baby and my wife came home, the doula paid us a visit to see how everyone was settling in. I had been wearing the same clothes she saw me in three days earlier. My wife was keen on breastfeeding and doulas are typically certified lactation consultants, which provided some additional support in ensuring that the bond between baby and mommy was copasetic.

Being a straight up boss.

Never throughout the dynamic did I feel like a sort of backseat driver in the delivery of my child. It was comforting knowing that I could relax, knowing that my wife and baby were in great hands. I’m better when being told what to do, how to help, and what to prepare for, so when I’m actually needed, I could be most effective.

Who knows how things would have played out if it were just my wife and me heading into triage the night of our first child’s birth.

Three months prior, she had convinced me to spend $300 for some Lamaze class in New York City that had a bunch of expecting couples laying on the floor mimicking weird sexual sounds and positions to teach us how to prepare for delivery day. I left there with more anxiety than I came in with. Then we hired a doula and I felt like it was the best thing money could buy, since the sperm met the egg.

If you’re considering it, just do-ula it.

David Nurielli is a dad residing in Toronto, and shares his ramblings on his hilarious blog: laughtermatters.com. He leads with honesty and humour, and we’re thrilled to have him contribute to TRM.com