So here’s a bit of sad truth, when I was lurching into the corporate world, I took informational interviews with brand strategists, instructional designers, recruiters, agency heads, even wound up having a two-hour long philosophical job interview with the CEO of Global Marketing for the biggest bicycle brand in the world and what they all told me was something like,
“I mean…I think it’s cool you were a doula, but I think you should change how you talk about it in the stages before you land the interview,”
and that’s exactly what I do. I’m a “Reproductive Health Consultant” because it gives the impression of a buttoned white coat and the smile of a stock image model you’d see in a medical textbook rather than a person who may or may not be writing their resume from a yurt at an ayahuasca retreat. [Side bar: Let’s be real, you’re more likely to have found the tech bro engineer you hired last month in that last scenario than a woman who can’t even drink more than a glass of wine at a time when on-call like a doula, but we’re talking wider cultural perception here.]
Long ago and far away — over fifteen years ago in a sweaty studio in NYC — I was trained to be a birth attendant at a time where few people knew what a doula even was. I had only learned what a doula was after doing legal research at the UNPO in an office next to a major international midwifery group and was told those skills could add a lot to the refugee work I had been doing.
I returned from my time in Holland ready to learn more about maternal health in crisis situations, only to find that the US had a major one of its own. Worst in the industrialized world, in fact. Most of my friends and family assumed you could become a midwife in a weekend studying in a yoga studio (plot twist, it takes most midwives 5-8 years of study) and that I was going to start pedaling myself door-to-door with a towel and some good vibes to catch babies. That wasn’t the case then, wasn’t the case after I took three years of midwifery school (towels, yes, but also a lot of needles and laws and paperwork and physiology classes), and it wasn’t the case as I stepped away from my busy doula practice in 2022.
So it is with a bit of shame that I talk about my long work as something other than just saying “doula” on my resume like it’s a dirty word, but in a lot of ways, doulas today look a whole lot different than they did when I started in 2009. My business certainly did, anyway.
In addition to being present at over 100 births, working with another 300+ families in postpartum, maybe another 100 families through biological infant sleep consultations and education, something like 30 families as an infant care specialist at a daycare, and I don’t know how many families and caregivers in my classes, I also:
Did the day-to-day work of running a small business.
Taught myself an exceptional lot about SEO, marketing, branding, and so on.
Taught and designed reproductive health advocacy training classes with three large, national doula training organizations.
Lectured on cultural and biological sleep norms in the infant-parent dyad for a full-spectrum doula certificate program at Mills College.
Sat on two boards as a representative in ethics and legislation.
Spoke at national health law conferences and reproductive health worker speaker series.
Became an expert on emerging reproductive health technologies and infant care technologies, interviewing academics and thought leaders, and lecturing widely on the subject.
Spent a lot of time learning the ins and outs of insurance reimbursement codes and benefits packages.
Designed peer review councils and ethics guidelines for a number of doula groups.
Mentored a few dozen doulas.
Researched, wrote, designed, published, and marketed doula training booklets and one parent guide.
Helped in the foundational stages of building a handful of doula collectives as a consultant.
Built and maintained all my own websites, and did the same for a number of colleagues.
Had my own doula podcast during the pandemic with guests and everything. I did all the producing and promoting myself, too.
Ran a popular virtual doula study group weekly through the first six months of lockdown.
Offered business consultations and web content writing/design for several dozen doulas, maternal health non-profits, collectives, and more.
Was part of a massive redesign and ethical investigation of the volunteer doula program at HPP in San Francisco, working with the Director of Community Health Workers and the general counsel of the organization in legal research.
That was alongside doing 72 continuous hours of birthing support and taking overnight infant care contracts and prenatal appointments and endless potential client interviews. While much of that aligned with my particular experience and passions, I think it’s completely fair to say that being a doula is largely a lot more than waving crystals around (I don’t even do that) and chanting (no one has ever thought their birth could be made easier by my singing) or cuddling babies (okay, that part I did do a lot of, but while lecturing about neural expansiveness).
The fact that it has such stigma is largely to do with the fact that it’s care work, performed mostly by women for women, and mostly in someone’s home. Despite the fact that most states in the US have seen some form of doula legislation presented for vote since 2018 and it’s seen as a cost-effective part of Medicaid reimbursement, and has been shown in reams of studies to improve birthing outcomes for birthing people and their infants, my doula colleagues and I who switched professions in the past two years have been told to underplay our careers.
So I will say that without reservation or timidness, I was a birth and postpartum doula who brings an extensive amount of experience in life, communications, science, heuristics, storytelling, and compassion to any employment I have as a result. Being a doula made me a better person — which is the kind of hokey stuff people love to hear in interviews and it’s true. And I’m sorry, there is just never, ever, ever going to be a deadline or assignment anyone ever throws at me in a corporate job that will surpass the challenges I had as a professional while supporting a woman through a postpartum hemorrhage or a miscarriage or postpartum psychosis. I am gratefully and enthusiastically ready for any challenge a future writing job throws at me.
I know this was long, but if you made it through this whole thing, I hope it’s because you think I’m a compelling writer, since I have likely applied for a writing position with you and your firm. I am passionate about the work I am a part of, and will bring the passion and commitment I’ve had for my doula work to whatever projects I am part of in the future.
Emily B Flynn 