dakota & tim & jones
One of my first trips back into social life at the beginning of Hot Vax Summer 2021 was to a pop up coffee shop (that’s now the somewhat unspoken gathering place for the local gays) called Cloud Walking. That day they had different vendors at tables. As I stood in line, a heard a voice behind me say, “Does that say doula?”
I turned around, held up the embroidered front of my fanny pack that did in fact say “doula”, and said, “Yep! I’m a doula.” That’s the day I met Dakota, half hidden behind the table overflowing with plants from her business Propagating Possibilities. I happily lost my place in line as the next twenty minutes we got into a deep conversation about doulas, birth, and life. She was pregnant with her second kid, had an incredible doula at that birth, but wasn’t totally sure if she wanted one at her second. (Not uncommon, and totally fine - the confidence you gain after a supported first birth and what you learn about yourself and how you birth can set people up for really strong birth experiences in the future without a doula present.)
Of course, we exchanged instagram handles and became solid internet friends pretty quickly. We talked more about her first birth where she had a fourth degree tear that had been difficult to heal. Emotionally - understandably - she was struggling to find a way to go into a second vaginal birth with the confidence and peace she had experienced for most of her first. We chatted about c-section vs vaginal delivery, the pelvic floor, how gorgeous the pictures of her first birth were, how much I loved her plants even though I kill every plant I lay eyes on, and Dakota decided to hire me as her doula. We went from internet to close friends immediately after our first prenatal session, getting into deep conversations about birth, our backgrounds, and life in general. One of those magic moments.
I got to the hospital in the early hours of the morning for Dakota’s induction, walking into a room with a Doja Cat inspo playlist in the background while Dakota was sitting on the birth ball, breaking it down and chatting up the nurse. From previous experience, she predicted that once things really started rolling, Jones would come fast, and of course she was absolutely right.
Once her contraction pattern was strong and consistent, the Doja Cat vibes transitioned into that intense quiet of active labor. She moved from the ball to the shower, then to the tub, working through a contraction with her face tucked down, then briefly lifting her eyes to Tim and me, and down again to breathe and rest. A few hours go by kneeling in the tub with Tim crouched down next to her, reassuring, helping her through contractions, holding her hands. Then, subtly, but with steady frequency during each contraction, I can see Dakota bearing down. She reaches between her legs where she’s beginning to feel pressure, then she lifts her head gently, but open eyed and alert, and whispers I can feel her, she’s right there.
The nurses tell her it’s time to get out of the tub, but she’s not ready. I’m now crouched down outside the tub near her, too, and she looks at me briefly and just gently shakes her head. I move between helping get the space ready and back to Dakota, and as I do say to the nurse she’s not ready to get out of the tub yet. I return back to her and take her hand. I tether us together in this way, an action that gently tells the room - if you pull her out of the tub you’ll have to yank me along with her.
After a few moments it’s very, very clear that Jones will be born soon. Do you want to have her here? Dakota doesn’t answer, but she begins to pull herself out of the tub with the hazy kind of grace someone has to their movement at this moment in labor moving to the bed and grounding herself on her hands and knees. We’re not sure if the doctor will make it in time and one of the nurses simply says We can catch a baby in here if we need to with absolute ease and confidence and I personally love her for this. The doctor is in the room shortly afterwards; you can tell he hustled to get there, but his calm and unhurried presence doesn’t create an interruption - part of why Dakota has appreciated him as her provider so much.
It’s Tim who catches Jones after a short time of emotionally and physically intense pushing. This is the moment that we had talked about for months. Tim reassures her that her tissue is stretching, a way to say not tearing. I’m near her head, brushing her hair back and saying my own reassurances, and in between pushes Dakota looks into my eyes for a just a moment, her face lit by the morning sun, then back down into the pillow and into herself.
Then there she is. Dakota looks at me, exhausted, and I brush her hair back a final time, hold her face, kiss her on the head and say you did it, there she is. In one graceful movement she reaches underneath her as Tim puts Jones into her hands and turns her body to lay on her back with Jones in her arms. She waves the nurses hands out of the way and dries Jones off with a towel, talking to her with a unique lilt in her voice that everyone does the first time they hold their baby, a frequency that’s like a secret language between them.
