So I had to put on my big girl pants this week. Not my hot pants or my party pants, both of which I wear on a regular basis, but my big girl pants. Big girl pants can be worn to accomplish all sorts of grown up like situations. For instance, I wore my big girl pants to the grocery store yesterday partly because I made myself buy items for a salad even though most of the time I don't want to eat salad and partly because I had to go to the grocery store twice because I forgot some things for the soup I was making. I HATE the grocery store. But this is what happens when you're a grown up. You do things you hate because it's the right thing to do. While at the grocery store, though, I did come across a middle school-aged girl scout selling girl scout cookies. Oh how I wanted to buy cookies from her. Not because I really want to eat girl scout cookies, mind you. I don't really like sweet things. However, I felt this innate need to support her in what she was doing. Poor girl was at least in upper middle school and she was still in girl scouts. I mean, by that age, you are usually questioning your girl scout identity. Wondering if you still have any chance at being cool, wondering why you are still selling cookies when you now know that selling cookies is not as exciting as it seems. You have to sit in the cold to sell cookies and you really don't make much money off of each box. That, and people expect to buy cookies from the cute little brownie (that's a young girl scout) not a teenager.
How do I have such excellent insight into a middle school girl scout's psyche you ask? Oh because I was one. Until I graduated from high school. That's right. And I actually enjoyed it for the most part. I mean, slightly embarrassing, but mainly enjoyable. And I'm not just writing that because my mom might read this and she was the leader. So there you go. Something most people don't know about me. I sold A LOT of girl scout cookies in my day. And I paid for a girl scout trip to Hawaii mostly through bake sales. If you've ever wondered why I'm a good baker you now know you can thank my girl scouting career.
But let's get back to the point of my blog. Me being a doula. And wearing my big girl pants as such. I received a phone call last week from a woman hoping to hire a doula for her upcoming birth. My phone rang, I let it go to voicemail because it was a number I didn't recognize, and when I listened to the message, all I could hear was "Hi Megan, this is ______ I got your number from ______ and _____________________________________________". So I knew she was calling the right number but had no idea who she was or who had given her said number.
I called her back with the full expectation that she was a Yobel volunteer because I get a lot of calls from people I don't know wanting to volunteer with us. So when she told me Ana had given her my number I was very confused. I don't know any Ana's! I think I missed the whole first part of our conversation because all I could think was "Ana? Ana? Ana? Ana? Ana?". As if repeating a person's name over and over will help you place that person. Yeah right. She finally told me Ana was my instructor. Oh! Light bulb! My doula instructor! Ok, now I understand the context of this call. I switch into doula mode (whatever that means) and start answering questions about my natural birth philosophy (which I have not fully defined yet) and what my price is (which I also have not defined yet). Thank you high school debate for teaching me to think on my feet and make it up as I go (yep. still a nerd over here). All in all, I think the conversation went well for me being completely caught off guard and slightly awkward and she emailed me back a few days later asking if we could meet to discuss a few more questions she had.
At this point I remembered doula training 101 and thought to ask her due date. There's no point in us meeting if I can't actually attend her birth. She emails back and tells me her due date is essentially in 1 WEEK! Woah! While I am available a week from now, I don't actually think I am ready to attend a birth a week from now. Not only do I not have all of my paperwork together but this would be my first birth attended as a doula. And as a new doula I really need time to build a relationship with my client before I can know how to support them well in labor. So, while I really wanted to jump in and take a client, I decided to decline. Because I didn't feel like it would be fair to her. She wants to do things naturally and if I can't support her well, she may not be able to accomplish that goal.
I emailed her. Told her why I wouldn't be a good fit and suggested a more experienced doula. And then I cried a little on the inside. But, she emailed me back, told me thank you for my honesty and that I would make a great doula someday. I decided there's no use crying over spilled milk and I am counting this experience as a growing one and one that puts me not only in the world of big girl pants, but also in the world of professionals. Success.
All that to say, if anyone knows anyone due in a couple months, sign me up! Like my first potential client said, I'm going to be a great doula. Just maybe not in a week.
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