09/17/2026
This is my why.
I was 23 years old, preparing to become a mother for the first time. I did all the research. I wanted an intentional birth, a birth center birth, and a doula but I couldn’t afford one.
Then, at nine months pregnant, just weeks before delivery, I was removed from my birth center because of “changes in protocol” that I experienced as discriminatory.
Everything I had envisioned fell apart.
I was left trying to be my own doula while laboring, with no real understanding of how to labor at home, cope with contractions, or advocate for myself when I was exhausted. Just me, Mike and some spike balls I got from my registry on Amazon.
After 36 hours of labor, an epidural, and several interventions I did not consent to, there I was:
A mother.
And the lack of support didn’t stop when my baby was born.
I wanted to breastfeed, but instead of receiving the education and hands-on support I needed, I was told my milk wasn’t enough.
Once again, I was left feeling like my body had failed me when what I really needed was someone to slow down, educate me, support me, and help me understand my options.
I was a new mother in the middle of a pandemic, struggling with frightening thoughts and completely unprepared for what came next.
I survived birth trauma, poverty, postpartum depression and anxiety, psychosis, breastfeeding struggles, and isolation.
And somewhere in the middle of God bringing me out, He told me:
“You’re going to bring a million women with you.”
I couldn’t see it then.
I didn’t know the woman who couldn’t afford a doula would become one.
I didn’t know the mother who felt unprotected would become an advocate.
I didn’t know the mother who needed breastfeeding support would one day help other mothers find the education and resources she didn’t have.
I didn’t know experiencing poverty would lead me to provide necessities to families who don’t have them.
I didn’t know my isolation would make me determined to rebuild the village I desperately needed.
But now I do.
Sincerely, The Village Doula was born from this woman. The Village Baby Pantry was born from this woman. My advocacy was born from this woman.
I can’t change what happened to her.
But every time I educate a mother, advocate beside her, support her birth, help her navigate postpartum, or put necessities into the hands of her family, I get to give another woman a piece of the village I needed.
Maybe that’s how I bring a million women with me.
One mother. One baby. One family at a time.
Building Back the Village, One Family at a Time.
