I was debriefing with a second-time client yesterday. She wanted to tell me how important it was that I was by her side at her second birth. “This time, lots of people said I didn’t need a doula - that you’re not a midwife, that the doctors and nurses would be there to help me. But I knew that you’d be there just for me, and I trust you. I knew you were there in my corner, always.”
Her husband thanked me for being there again - for helping to create such a positive experience. He put it all down to what he calls “the Jacquie magic” - the fact that everyone in the hospital treated them differently because they were with me.
It’s sad, but true. The hospital staff do treat patients differently depending on their caregivers. They’re human - they have their favourite doctors, nurses, and doulas. I really would love a world where everyone walking through hospital doors was treated equally. But, right now, it doesn’t happen, so if I can do anything to make my clients feel more autonomous, more respected, then I will. Petty “wars” can be waged between overworked and under-respected staff, and I do everything in my power to prevent my clients from being a witness to negative behaviour. Preventative magic helps.
It all starts prenatally. We cover every possible scenario in our talks over the phone, in person, via email. We discuss the woman’s hopes and fears, interspersed with stories of her life. We talk about how the couple works together, what their strengths and weaknesses are, how they face challenges separately and as a couple. We even discuss how they’d react if they were bumped from an important overseas flight. We discuss family dynamics, setting boundaries, postpartum planning. The prenatal preparation isn’t about following a prescribed path - its about finding how each woman’s life experience has uniquely prepared her for this particular birth. Whether she needs to do soprano vocal exercises in labour, or relive that amazing underwater night dive in Fiji, conquer the West Coast Trail’s ladders once again, or run the Paris marathon with each breath during labour - we will uncover her own history that will carry her through to birth. My job is to protect her from outside disturbance without her ever noticing. It’s kind of like trying to be the best server ever.
Luckily, since most clients are referred to me by their caregiver and others, I know that there is a web of security and trust between us all. I may have known a woman’s midwife for 15 years (from the wonderful “community midwife” days), or have been the family doctor’s own doula, or have known the on-call doctor for 20 years. I know their style, their particular sense of humour, how they react when they’re tired, how they react when they’re sad, and most especially, how we can all work in concert to provide the very best care for my client. We often know each other well enough that very few words need to be spoken. This helps the woman to stay in her birth trance, without interference or complication.
At home in labour, after the client has spoken to the caregiver, I can offer additional information. The other night, in between contractions, I only had time to say, "Hi! It's her second baby, just vomited, some bloody show, some pressure, we’re coming in. Oh, and she’s GBS positive but doesn’t want antibiotics.” “Fine,” said the doctor, because he knew he could trust me that this baby was coming fast. I called the hospital and spoke with the assessment room nurse, who said - “Hi, Jacquie. We’re short four nurses because they called in “sick” on the long weekend, so no Cedar (the fancy rooms with windows) tonight. But we have a room for her.” When we reached the hospital, the nurse and I exchanged glances as soon as we walked through the door. “Hey Jac...pushy?” The couple didn’t really have to say anything - they could stay in “the zone”. We went straight into a birthing room - no stopping in the assessment room. She stayed standing by the bed. No “please lie down, put this gown on, etc. etc.” Her wishes were honoured without debate (the nurse and I had had the GBS-decision discussion a few weeks ago, so there was no need to belabour the fact on this night).
At the hospital, I know NEVER to show up at the end of a shift, when tempers are frayed - you will either be left to wait for the next shift, or be caught in the vortex of emotions borne out of 12 hard hours. If the vibe is weird in the assessment room (like it was a couple of weeks ago), I know the nurses well enough to whisper, “What’s up?”, and be trusted enough to be told the truth - that everyone’s on edge because an obstetrician wrote an incident report after a woman was sent to Cedar without allegedly fulfilling the criteria (long story). A war is brewing. We negotiate, and figure out a way (enlist the dad’s aid) to have my client go upstairs to Cedar without it causing a problem for the nurses in assessment. That's diplomacy in action. We’ve been through so much that we’ve built up a trusting relationship, and are able to work together collaboratively, seamlessly, so that my client doesn’t even suspect that we averted a petty war on the hospital floor.
I’ve worked with clients giving birth at home and in the hospital for almost thirty years. I’ve quietly built bridges with midwives, physicians, and hospital staff. I’ve worked to earn the trust of each nurse and each unit clerk (these women have their finger on the pulse of the place). The amazing thing is, each new client reaps the rewards of the cumulative history of all these births, and all of the experience gained from those who have gone before her.
I’ve learned to chatter less and listen more, to teach by example, to foster trust in each woman and her baby, to soak up every lesson, to read voraciously, and to constantly tend the bridge of trust and diplomacy with all caregivers. Because I am autonomous, and not affiliated with any group or hospital (no affiliation = no baggage), I can focus on each individual client’s needs and wishes without prejudice.
I’d love there to be a day when I could trust that each and every woman in labour could be autonomous and free to give birth undisturbed, that her history would be one of complete trust in the body, that no doulas would be needed. But, that’s not possible in today’s society, within the current health care system. Each woman still has her labour, her own history, AND the system to negotiate.
Each woman in labour still needs a navigator. As I carry the bags up the stairs, I laughingly say, “Just think of me as your Sherpa." Each woman climbs her own mountain, while I quietly deal with the bureaucracy, the logistics, climbing up the stairs behind her, all the while chanting, ”yes you can, yes you can.”