Below is the Prologue to my memoir: “My Three: A Memoir about Birth, Trauma, and My Quest for Acceptance”. You can follow along as each chapter is published on Substack.

Before I began my work as a doula, I had a narrow view of birth. Based on only my personal experience, I imagined birth as two lanes on a highway…

Our home has a large bathroom off the kitchen with two windows; one, along the wall where the toilet and sink are, and another, on the wall beside the toilet. For now, a bent curtain rod rests in the upper half of the second window, naked and unable to hold the curtain that used to hang there. I’ve never liked this bathroom, least of all the location of it, the toilet too close to our stove (albeit in a different room but still, too close).

Last week as I was tidying the basement, the bin of my childhood memorabilia caught my eye. Through the clear plastic, I spotted a pink journal with a floral print. I was drawn to the journal, one that my mom used to write to me periodically. The first entry was from my 9th birthday, and she told me about the day of my birth.

My theme for 2022 is “unfinished.”

We tell our clients in our prenatal meetings that we provide comfort measures during labor. We assure their partners that we will be there with the birthing person if they need to take a break.

About 6 months after my second c-section, I was recovering well physically but had a lot of work to do mentally. How could my VBAC have evaded me?

Much of my hypnobirthing class was about surrendering. Surrendering to the uterus contracting. Surrendering to the pressure of baby descending into the pelvis. Surrendering to the unknowns, to what can’t be planned.