On smiling

Recently, a friend told me a story about how doulas came about. She learned it in a class I’d missed for fear of creating a distance of more than 5 feet between myself and the toilet. She passed this story on to me in the hopes that it would make me feel as though I could give something at these first births when I’m still learning the ropes.

Doulas, she said, “emerged as the result of a study in Ireland. A lady sat in the corner and did nothing but smile at women in labour. And the women reported feeling comforted by having the presence of someone in there. And the birth outcomes were substantially better. So they decided to train women to just be there for support.”

Yesterday I observed my first two (!!!) births ever. I felt out of place, unsure of where to stand, where to put my hands, when to jump in and when to stay back, I felt clumsy and awkward, so I would remind myself to smile. Then, I’d realize that I was already smiling. Smiling and smiling to the point where I thought maybe I was smiling too much and I would run through a few other potential facial expressions: thoughtful, reflective, inquisitive, serene. However, as I worked through these expressions I’d just find myself smiling again. I couldn’t keep that bugger smile off my face.

And so it was. Two births in one day and my cheeks hurt from smiling.

As I was saying goodbye to the last couple, a pair that I had never met but who graciously allowed me to be part of their experience, they were all snuggled up in bed with their new little love. They both said thank you, thank you, our thank yous running together as we expressed our shared gratitude. It was almost as though I had done something for them too (was it the smiling?) instead of just taking something and the dad told me that I was “going to bring happiness to a lot of people.”

Oh, what a gift that is.