Where I've Been

Hello! It’s been a long time (my mind immediately goes “I shouldn’t have left you, without a cold beat to step to…step to…”) - postpartum brain - HA!
But really, it has been too long since I’ve written a blog. I got busy building my doula business and growing my family and all the things I had going on meant something had to pause.

For me and Caring for Mamas those pauses have come in waves. I paused working on the blog - I had work to do and not less to say but less time to say it. I had a couple kids when I started and I knew we wanted one more. I paused working to grow my family in 2023 and again 2025 (one more quickly became two more). But this last pause was different. Some of you noticed. Some of you asked gently. Others simply waited. I’ve felt the weight of that quiet, and I want to share where I’ve been and why I’m finally, confidently, and excitedly stepping back into the birth space and at the same time, getting back into my life.

I experienced hyperemesis gravidarum (HG) in my fourth pregnancy, and while I had supported clients through it before, living through it was enlightening. The constant nausea, the relentless vomiting, the never-knowing when or where it would happen was exhausting. It deeply affected my mental health. The anxiety of anticipating the next wave. The grief of not being able to care for myself, my family, or my clients in the way I was used to.

As a Black woman in birth work, there were added layers to this experience that felt impossible to navigate. The pressure to be strong. The expectation (spoken & unspoken) that I would endure quietly and competently. In the birth space especially, strength and advocacy are not optional. Clients depend on it and the MIC demands it. I built my work and reputation by showing up powerfully for others. But HG took that version of strength from me.
I was showing up to births and hiding my sickness - not well - but I certainly tried. I was getting sick on the way to postpartum visits and parking up the block so I could gather myself before going inside. I canceled visits without explanation because I couldn’t stop crying when meds stopped working. I became scared to do anything because everything made me sick. Also contributing to my anxiety was the company of my phone and an algorithm that knew me and my work. Meaning that while I was having my most stressful pregnancy, my feed reminded me that women were still at risk… I was still at risk. My social feeds full of maternal risk and school shootings and wars?!! I was doing the exact opposite of what I recommend. And I felt ashamed of it all. Ashamed that I couldn’t meet everyone’s standards—especially my own. Ashamed that I didn’t look like strong because I wasn’t. And I still carry the guilt of not being able to show up for the families I love and loved working with.

So I stepped away.

I stepped away to survive pregnancy… to give birth… to rest.

The time away allowed me to sit with hard questions about my work, my mission, and my goals. To listen instead of push. To rest instead of prove. To start to release the idea that my worth is tied to how much I carry. And just like I tell each of my clients happens — I let this pregnancy and birth make me new.

I return to this work with more patience for myself and a deeper understanding of advocacy. I understand what it means to be strong when strength doesn’t look like productivity. I return with clearer boundaries and a renewed commitment to trauma-informed, culturally responsive, and deeply compassionate care. Caring for Mamas has never been about perfection. It has always been about presence. And now, I am excitedly ready to offer mine.

If you are navigating HG or a complicated pregnancy, I see you.
If you are a Black birthing person carrying visible and invisible weight, I see you.
If you’re the parent of autistic or neurodivergent children, I see you.
If you are a doula questioning sustainability in this work, I see you too.

Birth support bookings are now open.
New mentorship and learning opportunities for doulas are available.

If you’re here to read, reflect, and learn, I’ll be sharing more personal and professional pieces and resources here on the blog.

Thank you for your patience.
Thank you for holding space.
I’m here, I’m not exactly the same, and I know that’s a gift.