Hi, my name is Sam. I love birth and babies, without kids of my own and I’ve never been pregnant. More than anything, what led me to be a doula was that I love women. (We’re doulas for everyone at DCMM, regardless of your gender, but I like to be honest about why I got into this work.)

To be honest, babies are just a lovely side effect of getting to hang out with cool ladies during really amazing moments in their lives. Many people don’t really understand this particular motivation.

 

I get curious questions from grandmothers to be fairly often. “How many kids do you have?”

 

When I tell them “none” (usually with a big, well-rested smile), you could tip some of them over with a feather. They’re shocked, and once or twice someone has asked me how I can be so good with babies, or seem to understand labor.

How can I be a doula without kids of my own?

 

The worst was when someone at a health fair asked, “How can you talk about breastfeeding when you haven’t done it?”

 

Thankfully, the empathy I have for doula clients extends to others as well. So I understand that they’re just curious, and don’t mean to question my ability to do my job.

 

Then there are the assumptions that I’m opting out of having that kind of a family all together.

 

“Oh well after watching all of this, you probably don’t want any,” a sister or mother will say. They’re usually gesturing around to some labor and delivery room in DC, Maryland or Virginia, and I’m wondering why this is what they want to discuss between contractions.

 

Or once, a new grandmother was whispering about her own daughter’s engorged breasts, while I showed her how to sterilize pump parts for the first time. “You’re smart not to do this. You get to skip all the trouble, and go home to peace and quiet after work is over.”

 

I suppose contractions turn some people off. And since I don’t shy away from the uglier parts of early motherhood I can see why some assume I’m not having kids.

 

I usually brush it off by declaring myself a member of “team empty uterus”, or making jokes about the dating scene for young professionals in DC. I talk about how I “only love my bed and my mama, I’m sorry”, and my clients catch the Drake reference. It’s funny. We laugh.

 

It’s also true. Everyone knows that there are more single, accomplished and bougie black girls around here than you can shake a stick at. And even though I date men, most of the ones I meet are having a baby with someone else. Pregnancy isn’t going to be a thing I just stumble into.

Even still, I’m always a little shocked. It startles me a little since my uterus isn’t usually the most interesting one in the room. Like, somebody has created life over there, and we’re talking about me?! How odd.

 

But between us, it hurts. It implies that there’s something weird about being without kids in my early 30s, when actually it’s pretty normal. It stings a little to have to justify my personal life choices because of my job.

 

While we’re speaking honestly, I think that the connection people make between my own family life and my job shows that there’s a fundamental misunderstanding of this role.

 

As a doula, I’m not out here telling people what to do because I did it, and it worked for me. Even the doulas who have children that I associate with don’t do that. Nor am I guiding clients to make the choices that I would make.

 

None of us at DC Metro Maternity have to agree with what our clients want for their birth. Nor do we raise your newborns.

 

What we do is support expectant families and new parents, no matter what.

 

If you tell us your goals, we can usually tell you a few ways to get there. We help manage expectations, and bring tools that will assist you through some really tough shit. Me and my team are often the only ones that believe in your vision until you have the confidence to believe in yourself.

 

I can be a doula who provides excellent support with or without kids.

In fact, there’s a lot of value in my being a doula before I’ve ever had personal birth or postpartum experiences. I’m a blank slate. And before I could become a card-carrying member of the judgmental mothers club (you know it exists, don’t lie), I’ve been shown that there are as many ways to be a good parent as there are loving families.

 

As doulas, we’re here to fill in gaps in the modern-day village.

 

This is especially needed in a place like the DC metro area, where many people settle down away from family. Even if your family is nearby, if you’re like many of our clients, you wait to have kids until you feel ready. By then you have a lot of ideas about parenting that aren’t the same as their own parents’. It’s hard for our mothers to support us without judgment if we’re making very different choices than theirs.

 

But as doulas, we make sure that you have support.

 

Support helps people feel safe, heard and in control during birth. That can be more important than a certain medical outcome. That same support makes feeding a baby and keeping them alive through the newborn phase easier. It means that you can truly recover after having a baby, and ensures that you don’t have to endure several months of sleepless nights during your postpartum period.

 

Basically, I think of my role as a doula as the village Auntie.

 

I don’t mother you. Mother’s have opinions. They’re emotionally attached to what you do.

 

I’m more like the cool Aunt with the good shoes, that knows all the gossip and tells you what’s what. I reassure your mother (and you) that you’re smart. You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, and you’re going to figure things out.

 

That role has always existed. And we still need it. If we’re all in the thick of early motherhood, then who do we turn to for perspective? Who will be the well-rested and reasonable one that reminds you not to panic if everyone has a baby sitting on their bladder, or nursing at their breast?

 

I get it. Many people become the village auntie when their children are older. They’re inspired to become a doula based on their own experiences. So maybe you just don’t know where to place me.

 

But some of us are drawn to this work before we have children of our own. We’re good at it by virtue of who we are, and the training we take to become professionals. Some of us are born to be confidantes, and this is a natural role.

 

So everybody calm down. There’s no need to worry about my uterus and my eggs haven’t hit their expiration date just yet. For now, let’s just be thankful that I’m ready and available to help you, your daughter, or your sister through what we all know is some really intense shit- motherhood.  

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