What do I do at a birth?

naomiwassmann
Mar 6
5 min read

I was recently asked what I do at a birth as a Doula.

I found that question surprisingly hard to answer in a quick WhatsApp message, so I decided to put my thoughts into words. The question stayed with me throughout the day, and as I reflected on it, I realized—being a doula is a little like making a recipe.

If you ask me what’s in a dish, I might remember the main ingredients right away, but later, I’ll recall another sprinkle of this or a dash of that. Some things might

not have been strictly necessary, but they all contributed to how it turned out.

So, I can tell you how it starts—not the recipe, but the birthday.

After I get the call, I take a quick shower, get dressed in comfortable clothes, pack the last bits, and head to my car. I put on the same playlist every time to calm my nervous system.

As I drive to the place of birth—whether it’s the family’s home or the hospital—I let go. I leave myselfbehind: my thoughts, my day, my worries, my personal life. I sing to lift my energy. I say a little prayer, asking the universe and the angels to protect and guide us. By the time I arrive, I am as neutral and open as possible.

When I get there, I take a deep breath and check my doula bag one last time. Some things in it are basic—like a straw to make drinking easier or fresh mint gum. Some are personal favorites—essential oils, distraction tools, snacks, juice for everyone, my rebozo scarves, and other little things.

Then, I put my phone on silent and step into the birth space.

The birth space is sacred.

So when I enter, the first thing I do is observe and feel:

• How is the mother?

• How is the partner?

• Who else is here?

• What stage are we in?

• What roles have naturally formed?

• What is the overall mood?

Birth is intimate. Every woman, every family, and every setting—whether home or hospital—is different. My role shifts depending on what is needed.

Sometimes, like with a recipe, I’m not entirely sure which of my contributions made a difference. And sometimes, I’m very sure.

But what I do know is that I stay by the mother’s side the entire time—if that is what she wants.

So this is where it starts.

From here, we could go through all kinds of different scenarios—some obvious, some subtle. Some will make it clear why hiring a doula makes sense. But what I can say for sure is that it’s not just about the pumpkin in the soup. It’s the little bits and sprinkles, the love and attention, that make the difference.

Hospital Birth

When the day comes, and contractions intensify, we usually start at home.

We spend as much time there as feels right. I help with contractions—massaging, encouraging, offering water, maybe feeding you a few dates or nuts, helping you in and out of the shower, switching positions to keep you moving. I support the partner as they get ready, making sure bags are packed with everything needed.

Then, when it’s time, we move to the car.

Having more hands is helpful at this point—contractions are frequent, so we pause when needed. One of us stays with the birthing mother while the other handles bags and logistics.

At the hospital, we try to make the transition as smooth as possible—from the car to registration, through the hallways, onto the first chair, to the monitor. If needed, I translate medical Spanish terms to help everyone understand what’s happening.

Once settled in a private or birth room (depending on if we are in pre Labour or active labor), we continue the process.

Birth can be quick, or it can take hours.

So keeping the mood up is key.

When we enter the room, I work on making it comfortable—dimming lights, setting up anything the mother wants, playing music, bringing back the sense of peace we had at home.

I often call this part a dance.

A dance between contractions and rest. A dance between empowerment and overwhelming emotions.

For the partner, this can also be intense. Sometimes, I give them a moment to breathe—a minute in the bathroom, a reassuring hug, a word of encouragement that they are doing great too.

Some partners are fully hands-on, while I stay in the background—bringing water, offering snacks, adjusting pillows, suggesting movements, or helping with a shower. Other times, I’m more physically involved—massaging, applying counterpressure, using rebozos to bring movement, while the partner stays close, whispering words of love and trust.

If the mother needs more rest, we make sure that after each contraction, she finds a comfortable position—pillows, an eye mask, deep breaths—to let go of tension and catch a few minutes of sleep.

Sometimes, we lift the mood with happy music, dancing, or laughter. Other times, in challenging moments, we discuss options and solutions.

Sometimes, I spend hours simply repeating:

“You’re doing great. You can do this.”

I guide her through contractions—when they rise, peak, and fade—because our bodies often stay tense even after the pain has passed.

And then, the baby is here.

I support the first latch, though I prefer to step back and let the baby find its way. I stay until the family is settled, perhaps guiding one more feed before I leave.

If only one support person is allowed in the hospital, I wait outside—on standby in case a switch is wanted, staying in touch via WhatsApp to answer any doubts. Sometimes, I bring food. If we swap places, I update the partner on progress and hold space for the mother.

In moments of unexpected changes, I help explain the situation, offer reassurance, and hold space for whatever emotions come up.

Planned C-Sections

For planned C-sections, I join on the day, supporting before the surgery. I wait in the room, ready to welcome you and assist with breastfeeding and any other needs once you return.

Home Birth

A home birth setting can involve more people—maybe a mother, a sister, a friend, older children. But in the end, the process is the same.

I am there, no matter what.

By the mother’s side through contractions—emotionally, physically, and practically.

Maybe that means heating up soup, caring for a sibling, helping the partner, bringing water, keeping things moving with rebozo techniques, offering cool packs or warm compresses, cleaning up, or just being there.

It doesn’t matter.

It’s not about doing something specific—it’s about feeling the moment.

Because birth is unpredictable. It is raw. It is beautiful.

I stay until the whole family is in bed, settled, and well.

If a transfer to the hospital is needed, I help get everything ready, accompany the transition, and continue from there.

It’s a dance.

It has no recipe.

Just a sprinkle of glitter, some fairy dust, and a whole lot of trust.