“Addressing the disparities in perinatal and infant wellbeing is not only an issue of healthcare, it is a matter of social justice. By advocating for systemic change, supporting culturally competent care, and uplifting Black voices in healthcare, we can create a future where Black families have the same opportunities for healthy pregnancies and births as any other group.” - Keegan Prempeh

And through all of it, one truth kept returning: we are not meant to do this alone.

Not birth.

Not death.

Not grief.

Not caregiving.

Not leadership.

Not community-building.

The Collective was created because I knew—personally and professionally—what happens when people are left to carry too much by themselves. It was created to be a container not just for families, but for doulas. For the ones who hold everyone else.

The Conference grew from the same place. A desire to bring people together across disciplines, experiences, and life stages. To create a space where we can talk honestly about hope and legacy, beginnings and endings, without fragmenting ourselves.

I’m seeing doulas say yes to everyone and anyone. Sometimes out of fear of an empty calendar or need of a pay cheque. Sometimes out of a deep desire not to let anyone down.  And then, the panic arrives. Overbooked. Double booked. Spread thin. Exhausted. Burn out looming. 

There were awful things written about me on social media.

Comments made to mutual friends, that got back to me.

Accusations that I stole dreams.

And claims that I whitewashed everything I touched.

Being a doula is sacred work. We step into the liminal spaces where life begins, where life ends, where vulnerability is raw, where families are transformed. It is heart work. It is body work. It is soul work. But with this depth comes a truth that too many doulas learn the hard way: without strong boundaries, this calling will consume you.

But the dip isn't failure. It’s the pause between breaths. It’s the body whispering that it’s time to tend to yourself with the same care you offer others.

There’s something I wish every person giving birth could hold close:

You don’t need permission to feel safe.

Your needs are not requests. They are wisdom.
They are part of your body’s intelligence — the way your nervous system communicates what helps it regulate, what grounds it, what opens the door to calm.

As doulas, we are invited into the most intimate corners of life: the first breaths, the last goodbyes, and sometimes, the heartbreaking space in between — the one where joy and grief collide in a single breath.