“For the Ones Who Go” A love letter to the doulas who give, again and again

© Nicole Bertrand Photography

We don't always speak of what this work asks of us. We are more keen on sharing the happy birth stories and less about what we experience. As I enter my next year as a doula, I reflect on this work and all that it entails. The honor and the sacrifice. This is for the doulas who go. The ones who keep showing up.

We go -

quietly, faithfully,

when the call comes in the still of night.

When the world around us rests,

we gather our bags,

kiss the foreheads of the ones we love,

and step into the unknown

to be someone’s anchor as they bring life into being.

We go -

even when our hearts ache to stay.

We go -

because this is what love looks like in our hands

steady, unhurried,

rooted in something deeper than words.

We have missed birthdays and soccer games,

holidays and dance recitals,

family dinners and morning snuggles.

We have left warmth for sterile light,

comfort for courage,

familiar arms for trembling ones that need holding.

Our families learn this rhythm

the soft sound of the door closing,

the long silence before sunrise,

the way we return changed,

carrying the weight of stories

we can never fully tell.

We carry birth in our bones.

We hold memories of strength so fierce

it takes our breath away.

We remember the tears,

the laughter,

the stillness before a cry.

We have seen women rise

from fear to power,

and it humbles us, every time.

There are births we will never forget,

the first cries that stitched themselves

into our bones,

that found a home in our hearts,

the silent moments that reshaped our faith in strength.

We've held fear,

We've held hope,

We've held hands trembling with both.

We’ve witnessed power and surrender,

fear and faith,

and learned that every birth

teaches us something new about love.

We have learned that sacrifice

isn’t a loss when it’s given in love.

That presence can heal,

and that our absence at home

has meaning when it holds space for another’s beginning.

This work asks much—

our sleep, our time, our ease,

our hearts again and again.

But it also gives back—

in moments so sacred

they reshape who we are.

We live between worlds—

home and birth,

family and service,

the life we nurture

and the lives we help begin.

And though the world may never see

the depth of what we give,

we know.

We know what it costs to hold this calling.

We know what it means to be called back—

again, and again, and again.

To be a doula

is to live in devotion.

To give, again and again,

knowing that each moment we miss at home

makes room for another woman’s beginning.

So here’s to us—

the ones who go.

The ones who love through sleepless nights,

who give quietly and without measure,

who stand at the edge of miracles

and call them holy.

We are doulas.

We are witnesses, keepers of calm,

holders of sacred space.

And though we give so much away,

we are made whole

every time a mother finds her strength

and a child finds their first breath.

With all the love,

Staci

For the ones who go,

for the ones who give, and

for all the love that lives in between.