Part of the reason people hire a doula is so that they can have an edge. They want to find out what labour and birth are going to be like, they want to have an extra resource to access if they need it, and they want a better chance of having the birth they desire. My clients are usually hiring me as their doula because I have been where they are going and they want a guide. They expect that I can offer them insight, reassurance and support. And I do. As a doula, I do ALL those things, and more.

But there are certain things I can’t do for them and certain things I can’t say to them.

I can never explain what labour will look like and feel like for them. I can describe all the sensations and noises and bodily fluids they can expect, but NOTHING not even little ole’ Megan the Doula, can prepare them for what their birth will be like. It won’t be anything like either of my labours and it won’t be anything like any of the other births I’ve attended.

I can’t say for sure if they will have a fast pushing stage or a long early labour and I have no clue when their water will break. All I know is that when they need me, I’ll be there and when they need support, I’ll offer it.

I can’t manage her contractions or cope with her pain. Only the labouring woman has the power to do that and it will mostly come from within her, not from what is happening around her.

I can’t tell my clients what they will feel or how they will react the moment their baby is born. No words can explain what that moment will be like and my description of it will seem small and insignificant if they were to look back and remember how I described what that moment might be like.

How do you describe what breastfeeding feels like? I’ve learned that I just need to watch and that moment of “aha! She’s latched!” doesn’t even require words. I could never explain how it feels to look down and see that your body is sustaining another.

I don’t tell my clients that they better sleep now because they’ll never sleep again. So what if it’s probably true. You can’t know how it feels until you live it, and even then- do you really need someone to say, “I told you so!”?

I don’t tell the families I work with that some days won’t be beautiful and you won’t be enjoying the journey. This is a hard one for me, because I knew those days so well. I want to shout from the mountain tops sometimes, “This whole parenting thing SUCKS!” Instead I mention that there are good days and bad days and that it’s okay to feel blue after having a baby.

I don’t tell my clients that having a baby is going to be one of the most challenging and scary things they’ve ever done. No matter if you’ve started 5 companies, own 3 houses, or have traveled the world with a backpack and a map- you’re not ready. You’ll never be ready. Some days I still feel like I’m not ready. I don’t tell them that.

Instead, I watch and I wait. I hold out my hands, in case someone reaches for one. I keep my eyes and my ears open, in case I hear a whisper for help or see an extra blink of an eye to stop the tears. I laugh when they do because the sound of happiness hangs around longer than sadness, just like the sound of hope is stronger than fear, and the sound of calm is lighter than anger.

I don’t tell them these things because this is a tale, no- an epic story, and it’s not mine, it’s theirs.