Michelle addressed Evelyn just as though she would address any other baby, using her name and affectionately calling her “pumpkin” as she helped Vallen to bathe anddress her daughter. 

Imagine a world in which postpartum care is not seen as a luxury, but as a self-evident a necessity; where it is understood that the most valuable thing a new mother can do is feed, love, and bond with her baby, while other people take care of her; where the work of those who care for mothers and babies is valued as much as - or more than - a high income, high status career. 

If you’ve ever walked out of a prenatal appointment feeling unseen, I want you to know something: you’re not alone. You’re not “too much,” and you’re not wrong for wanting more than blood pressure checks and growth charts. You deserve care that sees your whole story.

I deeply believe that there is so much that can be done to help the dying have some peace at the end, and sometimes it can be just stating the obvious- that someone is dying but they are alive until their final breath.

I am here to tell you my origin story: how I chose to become a death doula, and just how much it means to me. My journey to becoming a death doula began in 2017, with the death of my grandfather, whom I called Papa.

For me, the path to becoming a birth worker is deeply intertwined with my own journey of healing, empowerment, and reclaiming sovereignty over my body and wellness.

To me, death is a part of life that we cannot avoid. But what happens at the time of death and afterwards, has always been an unknown.

Before my first baby was born I remember being home on maternity leave and feeling a bit lost, like I didn’t have a purpose…