Why I Became a Doula: Where Experience & Purpose Collide

For the mom who is trying to find hope after loss.

If you're reading this because you're pregnant after a loss, or maybe you're thinking about trying again, I want you to know something before we go any further: I see you.

I know what it's like to carry hope and fear at the exact same time. I know what it's like to walk into an ultrasound appointment praying for good news while quietly preparing your heart for the possibility that life could change in an instant. I know what it's like to wonder if your body can be trusted again.

People often ask me why I became a doula, and the truth is, I don't think I ever really chose this work. Looking back now, I believe God was leading me here long before I realized it. At the time, I thought I was simply surviving one difficult season after another. Now, I can see that every experience was shaping my heart to support other women walking similar paths.

Motherhood Began with Loss

My journey into motherhood didn't begin with a baby in my arms. It began with loss.

My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage. Like so many women, the moment I saw those two lines, I immediately started dreaming. I imagined what life would look like, what kind of mother I would be, and all the little moments that come with bringing a baby into the world. Then, almost as quickly as those dreams began, they were gone.

People were kind, but most didn't know what to say. Honestly, I didn't know what I needed either. I just knew my heart hurt, and I felt incredibly alone.

When I became pregnant again, I was happy, but I wasn't carefree. If you've ever been pregnant after a loss, you probably understand exactly what I mean. Pregnancy after loss changes you. You celebrate differently. You don't fully let yourself believe. Every appointment feels like a test, and every little symptom can send your mind racing.

During that second pregnancy, I went into labor much too early. My baby was born prematurely, and I experienced another devastating loss. There really aren't words for something like that. There is only the person you were before and the person you become afterward.

After losing my baby, I found myself carrying grief, trauma, and so many unanswered questions. Could I ever do this again? Could I trust my body? Would I ever get to bring a baby home? No one really talks about what it feels like to carry that kind of fear into another pregnancy.

Learning to Hope Again

By the time I became pregnant for the third time, fear had become part of the journey. Every week I received hormone shots to help prevent another preterm birth. Every appointment felt like another milestone, and every day that passed, I thanked God for one more day with my baby safely inside of me.

Against all odds, I made it to full term.

I labored naturally for twenty-four hours without an epidural. I had this picture in my mind of how my birth would go. I thought that if I could just make it to full term, everything else would fall into place.

But birth has a way of reminding us that we aren't always in control.

After twenty-four hours of labor, my journey ended in a cesarean birth. Was I grateful that my baby was healthy? Absolutely. But was I also grieving the birth experience I had hoped for? Yes.

For a long time, I thought those two feelings couldn't exist together. I thought I had to choose between gratitude and disappointment. Now I know that mothers can hold both.

Looking back, I realize I wasn't missing strength or determination. I was missing support.

I could have really used a doula.

I could have used someone whose only job was to care for me. Someone to help me understand my options, process what was happening as plans changed, and remind me that needing a cesarean didn't mean I had somehow failed. I needed someone to look me in the eyes and say, "You're doing an incredible job, and no matter how your baby gets here, you are still giving birth."

The Journey Wasn't Over

Life moved forward, as it always does. Years later, I experienced another early miscarriage. That loss brought back so many emotions I thought I had already worked through. Grief has a way of reminding you that it never completely leaves; it simply changes shape.

Then I became pregnant again.

Once again, the weekly hormone shots returned. The uncertainty returned. The constant wondering if this would finally be the pregnancy that ended differently returned.

This time, I wanted a VBAC. After everything I had been through, I wanted the opportunity to experience birth differently. But I didn't always feel supported in that desire. I made it to full term and welcomed another beautiful baby into the world, but postpartum was one of the hardest seasons of my life.

It was during COVID.

The village that mothers are meant to have suddenly felt very far away. Support systems disappeared overnight, and I found myself asking a question that I think so many women quietly ask:

Who takes care of the mother?

Who checks on her after everyone else has gone home? Who sits with her when she's exhausted, overwhelmed, healing, and trying to figure out this new version of herself?

Looking Back, I Can See the Calling

I think that's where God finally made it clear.

My story wasn't just my story.

Every loss, every hormone shot, every sleepless night, every difficult birth, every moment I felt unseen, and every time I wished someone had simply sat beside me and said, "You're not alone," was preparing me for this work.

I don't believe I became a doula because I had all the answers. I became a doula because I know what it feels like to need someone.

Not someone to fix everything.

Not someone to promise that nothing bad will happen.

Just someone to walk beside you.

Someone to hold space for your fears and your hopes. Someone to remind you that your voice matters, your choices matter, and your story matters.

Why "Over The Rainbow"

The rainbow has always represented hope after the storm. For me, it represents every family that has experienced loss, heartbreak, uncertainty, or a birth that didn't go according to plan and still found the courage to hope again.

That's why I created Over The Rainbow Doula & Parenting Services.

I wanted to become the support that I wish I had during my own journey. I wanted other mothers to know they don't have to carry fear, grief, uncertainty, or even joy by themselves.

If you're pregnant after a loss, if you're carrying fear into this pregnancy, or if you're simply hoping this experience feels different than the last one, I want you to know that you don't have to walk this road alone.

I know what it's like to be where you are.

And maybe that's exactly why I was called to become a doula.