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  1. I remember my first birth like it was yesterday. Well, I do and I don’t. I have clear memories of it, but they are flashes of clarity in a sea of murkiness, in the way that memories from your childhood tend to be. I was probably around the age of 7 or 8, so I’m sure this can be forgiven.

    I have come to realise that that evening was a rather important experience for me as a person. It is said that the journey of a thousand miles begins with one step and that evening was, I think, my first step.

  2. When you are a new doula, you know it is only a matter of time before you come across your first long pregnancy. As a business we have to operate in the way that is most efficient, and for most of us that means blocking out a 4 week block [38-42 weeks] per client and only being on-call for one client at once. We all know that clients can go into labour outside of that time, but that is when they are most likely to labour. Of all the births I’ve supported, only a handful have been before 38 weeks, and almost all of those births have been planned early inductions.

  3. It’s a bright and crisp Tuesday afternoon. I’ve found my seat and stashed my suitcase. I’ve committed the rookie mistakes of forgetting both a nail file for the snick in my thumb nail and my yarn scissors (how?!), and while I’ve managed to fix both of those things thanks to other passengers who have clearly got their shit together more than I have, crocheting is no longer holding any appeal.

    Even eating my lunch and browsing Facebook and Instagram only takes twenty minutes and I still have over two hours of train journey left to fill.

    I pull out one of the four (!!) books I brought with me. This one has been on my To Read list since I bought it eighteen months ago when a client asked if I had it on my shelf.