Why I Became a Doula

I was an aunt before I became a mother. My sister is 9 years older than me but became a teen mother when I was in grade school age 8. Although my sister was and is still is very brilliant her choice to conceive and parent young was not often respected. I will not go on to tell you her story because it is/was very much her journey . But even as I child I knew kindness and empathy. I saw that because of her age she was not often respected or heard. Throughout her pregnancy she stayed in school and graduated with honors as Valedictorian of the historic South East High School in Kansas City Mo. I would often observe her being frustrated carrying the weight of the opinions of her peers and school staff. Imagine the angst of entrusting your life and education in someone who does not see your value or undermines you due to your age or race.

Several years later I would go on to also be a mother at 19 [ gave birth at 20 ] . History did in fact repeat itself . In this regard I saw that my choices for my birth preferences were not always valued or respected. “You’re too young to breastfed , you don’t want to be chained to a baby this young” “It’s child abuse if you don’t vaccinate him and he will never go to daycare or school” I have very vivid memory of getting my blood drawn for a routine lab and the nurse did not release my tourniquet at the proper time. I told her “this really hurts and she said in my face “oh it’s not that bad we’re already done” I remember being so upset that I told my OB Dr Uneeda Leverett a BLACK Dr that I never wanted to see that lady again and with grace and Poise she made sure that nurse never even looked my way. I had care from Dr L from age 16-23.

While having my second son 2 years later their father and I had a very interesting encounter . My water broke at 11pm while I was home. I was planning to have a Belly Birth in 1 week, so this was shocking . We rushed to the hospital where they told me “are you sure your water is broken and it’s not just urine”. I was so taken back because it wasn’t even said jokingly . I said “YES I KNOW MY BODY” . After finally testing and confirming that it was amniotic fluid , they shaved me for surgery. He was born at 2am. I remember being very exhausted. The nurses had done his heel prick unsuccessfully 2 times. I expressed to my partner that I didn’t want it to be done anymore because it caused my baby great discomfort. When I asked for them to explain the purpose of the PKU they didn’t , they just told me it was needed. As I told her politely that her answer was not good enough she got immediately defensive and loud. At this point I am a repeat Cesarean patient and bed ridden. The lady told me to “Calm Down” I felt as though she was trying to make me into the stereotypical “angry black girl” for simply wanting an understanding. I refused to give my baby to her and she left the room. My partner had been the only one working so he really couldn’t stay in the hospital with me. We sat ALONE for an hour before anyone came to check on us. A Black Pharmacist that had been working in the Walgreens attached to the hospital finally came in. She thoroughly explained all the medications I was being sent home with and why they were needed. It was the first time I felt Heard the entire hospital stay. She also explained the PKU upon my asking what it was for. My partner finally felt comfortable leaving the baby and I for work.

With my twins the same dismissive and passive behavior commence . The night of January 5th I began having really bad back contractions. I because timing them about about 7 minutes lasting 1 minute each. Having given birth twice previously I knew to try changes in positions and even managed to go get a damp cool cloth to apply it to my neck and head. I had to use the restroom where I was leaking more fluid and also lost my mucus plug. At this point I am 30 weeks with twins that are breach and one is sunny side up . I immediately page my nurse. I was not on heavy monitoring but again she dismissed my pain and failure to cope “you’re too early and they’re so small it’s probably not that bad” and proceeded to leave the room. I call my mother like “you’ve gotta get here I’m about to fight my nurse”. She hangs up and starts making her way. My husband who was home with our other three children was asleep I called him twice no answer. At this point it’s been about 45 minutes and contractions are at 5-1-1. My back is on fire I’m paging the nurse. As she’s in the room slowing taking her time to get the fetal and contraction monitors hooked up I start paging the nurse station again. These two women who at the fine looked like Black Angels came in and asked me what was wrong. One I later found was the charge nurse I told them I do not want to see the other nurse again and asked her to leave, they quickly started monitoring my contractions while while the other did a pelvic check. In a strong voice she lifts her hand and said “I hope you didn’t like what you were watching on the TV you’re about to miss it these babies are coming out. Fast forward to preop meeting my anesthesiologist. He is explaining my process of the spinal tap. He’s giving me good eye contact asking open ended questions etc, I am feeling so comfortable and confident. Thee Annoying nurse walks in and starts handing me papers to get the birth certificate and SSN for the babies. I literally balled them up and threw them at her and told her I never want to see her face and how inappropriate she was being . The anesthesiologist begins to laugh. After telling him what had happened minutes before his arrival , he said “I’ll take care if it.“ About 30 minutes later I am in T position getting prepped with the Drapery and oxygen. This same nurse walk into the OR. The Anesthesiologist kindly tells her “your services are NOT needed in THIS OR. Go prep recovery”. I was tickled but still shocked.

This was 2.5 years ago. I gave birth two the most beautiful brilliant Fraternal twin boys at 2 & 3lbs 7 minutes apart.

As I reflect on my experiences both good and bad I cannot help but wonder what it would have been like if my partners and I had a Doula resource. Someone to simply be present and supportive . To explain the what’s and Why’s that danced in my head. I walked out of the hospital 8 days later feeling inspired. I could have let what had happened traumatize me but instead I wanted to change the conversation. I can be what I needed. I can be the resource. My presence has power. I don’t want this to happen to anyone Else. I am made to help others . I should become : A Doula

a Special thanks to my boys for giving birth to me. You’ve made me the woman I am this day 💙

From Left to Right

Anthony 7, Braxton 5 , Cassius & Eden 2

photo credit : Mr. Robinson