Have I checked my 10kg Birth kit? Yes, tick. Petrol in my car? Yes, tick. Is the adrenaline still in date? Labour pathway file? Mobiles charged? Tick tick tick. There was always something to mentally or physically tick off when I was ‘oncall’ as a midwife for over twenty years. It was a 24 hour ritual of habits, that if I missed one could cascade me into a panic that I would cause a dangerous event or be pulled up by management. By the time I stopped my midwifery career I felt like the lion in the Wizard of Oz; very sadly I had lost my courage.

These last 18 months I have been slowly dropping my ‘clinical management’ of births and immersing myself in conversations and training with birthkeepers, doulas, midwives and elders. It has helped strengthen my perspective and belief in birth. Throughout my work I have observed and increasingly understood the power of ritual and ceremony as a source of emotional, physical and spiritual strength for a pregnant woman moving into motherhood, as well as myself as a birth support sister (or whatever someone wishes to call me). In these last years I have trained with Naoli Vinaver a wonderful Mexican midwife in the ‘closing the bones’ postpartum ceremony and Molly O’Brien who teaches Biomechanics for Birth and has led to my increased skill and somatic connection between the PSOAS muscle, our fear and our pelvis.

I finally dropped my ‘high alert midwifery hat’ last November and agreed to attend a birth as a doula. For me there was so much attached to this act. At first, I felt I was betraying myself and my midwifery colleagues because maybe they would feel I was working in a looser way and was stepping away from my responsibility to the mother and baby. However, after much thought, daily reflection and discussion with a doula mentor; I decided I would love to work for Hope, the birthing woman and her husband.

I set up a little place of contemplation in my house. A candle, a rock from the highest mountain in India and a small carved woman’s torso from Pakistan. A little daily reminder and nod to my strengths, and to my hopes and expectations for the mother who I would be supporting during her birth. Everyday I would give a few moments to recognise my role in the imminent birth and the realisation I was purely going to be there for the family was liberating. No birth kit and no paperwork. I was pretty confident the midwives attending were kind, skilled and would listen and act in the client’s best interests, having worked with them for the last fourteen years.

One morning out of the blue I had a text “she has started…”. I felt nauseous and had a little surge of adrenaline deep in my heart. I remembered my ritual, my daily practice, my safe place and went and placed three drops of frankincense in my palms, touched the cool stone torso and said to myself “you will love this day, Hope has a wonderful support circle for her birth and this is going to be a life affirming 24 hours.”

Well, looking back on the birth it was tough, long and Hope had stamina off steel. I feel that I did play a valuable part in her birth outcome and from speaking together  I know without her stamina, her husband’s quiet presence, my rebozo and working with the midwives to complete biomechanic moves, Hope would quite likely have been either a transfer and augmentation and/or instrumental birth. Rebozo and Biomechanics can be given as a ritual practice. It starts with a recognition of the birthing client as a human in your hands whose needs are being listened to and valued. Myself and the midwife worked together repeating gentle then vigorous massage and biomechanics. There was no need for talking, the client was breathing mindfully through each surge, in a room lit only by her Christmas tree. I and the midwife followed each other stroking Hope’s feet and her calves, rolling her thighs between our hands (vibrating and releasing the PSOAS muscle up into her pelvis) and ‘shaking her apples’ (vibrating her sacrum). Each moment of her birth journey was supported, often in silence but never alone. I sensed that I and the midwives worked together as one; valuing and respecting each other’s wisdom and intuition to the birthing mother who was at the centre of our heart-field. In the dark room with the quiet sound of our hands working in unison I felt we were part of an ancient tradition of birth attendants. I thought of all the other mothers around the world giving birth in those hours and hoped that they could also know that love and safety. The moments when Hope cried out “I can’t do this,” and those times we (the midwives and doula) felt doubtful and exhausted we picked each other up with the ritual of a cup of tea, (and some chilli and rice at four am! Home cooking from  her loving husband) a regroup of our reserves and the labour slowly and surely unfolded, shifted and transformed. Little by little, and moment by moment the baby moved down through the birth canal. The birth mother never gave up motion. She used every step, every room and every toilet in the house (it was a big house!). If she had been in hospital, she simply would not have had that freedom of movement or unflinching support. For those people that do have a longer labour; a trusted circle of care that can support the energy, belief and continued stamina of the birthing person as well as each other is vital. There is comfort, peace, recognition, validation and respect when everyone has the same sense of honouring the ritual of birth and its immense spiritual quality.

To be present and witness birth has to be one of the most life affirming experiences we can have. I hope that I – the doula – can work again with the midwives for the birthing client and baby. I hope that midwives can reclaim their skills and parents can truly know their own ability to birth their babies. I feel my work as a doula has the potential to increase the homebirth rate in my area and enhance the work of the local midwives. Working together we could make a great team and bring back human birth as a beautiful wondrous rite of passage rather than a medical concern to be afraid of.