So I was part of something pretty surreal and important this weekend - the birth of my friends’ first child. When they found out she was pregnant, they asked me to be her doula (labor assistant). I’m not a trained doula, and there isn’t an official certification program in the US, but the basic idea is that you’re there alongside the father, midwife/OBGYN and other medical professionals but your purpose is to help the mother. That’s basically it: talk to her, hold her hand, reassure her, bring her cold cloths or warm blankets, help her get up and lie down, help her walk around and get through the laboring process and the pain until baby is born. It doesn’t sound like much, but believe me when I tell you that it’s intense. While the new mommy’s pain certainly outdoes mine, I was surprised at how much pain and soreness I’m feeling today. Of course, I also smashed my toe into a rock and possibly broke it, but that was in no way baby-related*.

On Friday, my friend called me and told me she was in labor and that she’d probably need me that night. I drove over to her house after work, but after a few hours, things weren’t progressing that quickly, so we decided that I could go home and try to get a bit of sleep. I got home around 11, did some laundry and cleaning and fell asleep sometime after 1:00. She called me at 3:57 in the morning saying that it was getting close and that by the time I got to their house (I live about 45 minutes away), it would be time to drive to the hospital.

I don’t think I’ve ever been that awake and alert at that early an hour EVER in my life. I got my stuff together, got in the car, stopped at a 24-hour Dunkin’ Donuts for a coffee (a rarity in my world - only used when truly needed) and drove over. It had been raining most of the day Friday, and this was early Saturday morning, so there was fog and mist everywhere. Visibility was bad, but it made for an eerily pretty (and perilous) drive at 4 in the morning. I got there a bit after 5, and we left for the hospital.

I won’t retell the whole story because that’s her story and she might not want the details of her child’s birth shared on the internets. I can just tell you that mommy did a crazy good job and that daddy, labor nurses, midwives and I all did our share and were very proud to be there when this brand new baby boy was born. I can only speak for myself in this situation since I was a bit of an interloper (though I was invited and honored, so not really an interloper because that would mean I was uninvited) - it was surreal. It was powerful. It was weird. It was intimate. It was tiring. It was hard. It was totally gratifying. It showed me some things about myself and how I deal with things and how much I can (for lack of better phraseology) live outside of myself and ignore my own bullshit for someone I care about.

That said, it wasn’t a life-changing experience; I didn’t walk away thinking about anything differently than I did before - except thinking that my friend is 300% stronger than I where before it was only 200%. But I think it will have some effect on my friendship with this couple and their child (in a positive way). I’m still not on the baby bandwagon; if anything, having this up-close-and-personal experience further cemented my belief that it’s going to take one hell of an incredible guy with some incredible persuasion skills and who knows how to talk to me, and one hell of a mind-altering life change for me to even start to think about this, ever. You really have to want a child to get through this without going a little insane. I guess one thing I did walk away with was a much grander appreciation of what my mother went through giving birth to not one but FOUR children, naturally and without painkillers.

Anyway, when all was said and done, we’d all been awake and working hard for about 18 hours - and about 10 more than that in the mommy’s case, so she was a crazy good trooper who pushed through it admirably. I was feeling the back pain and pain in my heels and legs yesterday - today was all about the neck and lower back and shoulders. When you spend 12 hours administering backrubs and other such stuff, it gets to you. I won’t dare complain because it’s not bad pain; it’s just soreness from intense activity.

Another thing that was fun was when the labor and delivery nurse (after the birth) asked me how I was related to the mother and father; she asked if I was their doula. My friend and I replied that I was a friend and was playing the role of doula, but wasn’t a professional. The nurse replied that she thought I was a “real” doula… which was interesting. I’m not thinking about it (it’s too much - far too much), though if I were so inclined, I could apparently make good money (around $1600 per birth).

But I got home late last night and went to the mailbox to pick up the mail. I stubbed my toe on a stepping stone and I think it’s either broken or just a bad bruise. It hurts and it’s ugly. Take a look at that busted toe. Mmm-hmm. It sure is ugly.

That’s the opposite of the baby. I visited them in the hospital today and he’s a gorgeous specimen. Sorry - you don’t get cute baby photos here. They’re not mine to share without parental permission. You get pictures of my nasty-ass, bruised-up, un-pedicured, possibly broken toe… because I’m a moron and after being awake for 20+ hours, I can’t be trusted to walk correctly. I also slammed the car door shut on that same foot today and then tripped up the stairs, further aggravating the pain. It’s almost comical, really.

Except it’s not.