I’ve always loved telling stories—whether through a camera lens or with words. In high school, I was a photo editor for our school’s yearbook, and in college, I studied journalism and worked as an editor for my university’s newspaper. Storytelling has always been part of who I am.
There’s just something about retelling some of the most challenging and rewarding events in my life. Nothing satisfies me as much as sharing my birth stories, especially with other expecting mothers. After having my first baby, I jumped at every chance to tell my audience how I was 7 cm dilated without having to do anything. I gleefully shared how my doctor encouraged me to reach down and touch my baby’s hand as he helped me pull him out. Because these moments were so joyous to me, I felt compelled to share that joy with others.
But even then, I knew not everyone had the same happy story to tell about their births. Some stories were traumatic—even for me to hear. And once one person shares, it often creates a domino effect where everyone starts recounting how their doctor or nurse mistreated them, how certain interventions were awful, and how they hoped never to go through it again.
Eventually, you start seeing a pattern in these stories and wonder—what’s going to stop this cycle? What can prevent these scenarios where women are terrified to give birth and yet feel the need to relive those painful experiences by sharing them with others?
I’m so grateful for the neighbor I had—a dear friend and an amazing doula mentor. She’s the one who taught me to think about birth differently. A lot of what she said resonated with me, and I became curious. What would it be like to give birth and feel truly empowered—even more so than I had felt before? Yes, I had experienced a traumatic birth, and maybe it could have been avoided. But through reflection, I realized what I had been missing in my preparations for each birth: a proactive approach.
I was easily overwhelmed by the sheer amount of information available about pregnancy and birth—so much of it contradictory. How was I supposed to know which information to follow and which to ignore? If only there had been someone to guide me! And there was—but I just didn’t know it yet. The word “doula” back then brought to mind images of hippies who worshipped the moon and avoided vaccines. And, to be honest, circa 2010, that stereotype wasn’t entirely off. But if I had done a little more research, I might have found someone who could’ve helped point me in the right direction.
Thanks to my friend and future doula, my perspective shifted. She taught me the importance of doula birth support and how a doula’s presence could transform a negative birthing experience into a positive one. And she didn’t just tell me—she showed me. I had the privilege of shadowing her on numerous occasions while photographing births where she served as a home birth doula and provided emotional and physical birth support. I watched her attentiveness and nurturing spirit help mothers avoid unnecessary medical interventions and achieve empowering birth experiences. She became my greatest teacher and the biggest influence on my decision to become a doula.
Wanting to expand the support I offered my clients, I took a doula training course that unlocked so much in my mind and soul about birth and the incredible power women hold. Since then, I’ve provided doula birth support to over 16 women and their partners. I’ve held their hands, brushed cold, wet cloths on their foreheads, pushed on their knees until my hands went numb, and stayed up all night to help them through labor.
It has been my honor and privilege to serve as a doula in Northern Utah County, offering home birth support and providing emotional and physical birth support to women and their families. Supporting mothers and fathers as they step into their divinely given roles has been one of the greatest joys of my life.
I’ve always loved telling stories whether it’s with a camera or in word. I was a photo editor in high school for our school’s yearbook and studied journalism in college and worked as an editor for my university’s newspaper.
