The Doula’s Dip: When the Caregiver Forgets Themselves

There’s a rhythm to being a doula. A rise and fall that mirrors the very work we support. Some

days you feel completely in flow. You’re grounded, centred, and connected to your purpose. You

walk into a birth space or a postpartum visit feeling calm, intuitive, and capable. You leave with

that quiet hum in your heart, the kind that comes from witnessing the raw, sacred beauty of new

life.

These are the highs.

The moments that remind you exactly why you do what you do.

But then, there are the dips.

The days when the emotional weight of this work settles into your bones. When you carry too

many stories in your heart; births that took unexpected turns, families navigating grief, or

moments that stay with you long after you’ve left the room. You keep showing up, because

that’s what doulas do. But somewhere along the way, your own cup begins to empty.

The dip often arrives quietly. It might look like a foggy mind, a shorter fuse, or tears that rise

without warning. It might sound like the voice that says, I’m tired, but I don’t have time to rest. It

can feel like you’ve lost touch with the light that once made this work feel so effortless.

As doulas, we constantly remind our clients to prioritize self-care, to rest, to nourish their bodies,

to honour their limits. Yet somehow, when it comes to ourselves, we forget. We push through

exhaustion. We skip meals. We absorb emotions that aren’t ours to keep. We pour endlessly

from a heart that desperately needs refilling.

And when burnout hits, it’s not just physical, it’s emotional. The joy fades into duty. The softness

turns to survival. And for a while, it can feel like you’ve lost the spark that once defined 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.

In these moments, leaning into community becomes vital. Other doulas understand this in a way

few others can. They know the ache of sleepless nights, the emotional weight of witnessing both

beauty and heartbreak, the silent strength it takes to hold space again and again. When we

reach for one another, whether through a coffee chat, a voice note, or a long overdue hug, it

reminds us that we don’t walk this path alone.

If you’re in a dip right now, here are a few gentle ways to move through it:

Return to your body

- Breathe deeply. Stretch. Move. Let your body become your own client again, the one you

nurture, listen to, and care for.

Rest, without guilt

- You don’t have to earn your rest. It’s not indulgent; it’s essential.

Release what you’ve been holding

- Cry, journal, walk in nature, whatever allows you to let go of what isn’t yours to carry.

Lean on your doula circle

- Let others hold space for you. You deserve it as much as anyone else.

Reconnect with what fills you up

- Whether it’s your family, a creative outlet, or simply quiet moments in nature. Let those

things remind you of who you are beyond your work.

I know what it’s like to be deep in that dip. I’ve been there.

Mine was so incredibly difficult that I nearly paused my doula career altogether. I felt emotionally

drained, uncertain, and far from the passionate woman who once felt born to do this work.

And then one day, out of the blue, an expecting mother reached out to me. She shared her

heartbreaking story, and her words stopped me in my tracks. She told me she needed this

experience to be different. She needed to feel seen, supported, and safe this time.

Something inside me stirred. Her vulnerability, her hope, it reignited something I thought I’d lost.

In that moment, I remembered why I do this. Not for the perfect births or the beautiful photos,

but for the families who need someone to walk beside them in one of life’s most vulnerable

moments.

Her story lit a fire in me that I thought had gone out completely. It reminded me how deeply I

carry this love for caring for families and supporting them through transformation. And it gave

me the strength to crawl out of my dip and start the slow climb back toward the high.

That’s the thing about this work... it’s a cycle. The highs and lows are part of the same beautiful

rhythm. Both are necessary. The highs remind us of our calling; the lows remind us to care for

ourselves while answering it.

So, if you’re in a dip right now, please know this: you are not alone, and this isn’t the end of your

light. It’s just a quiet chapter, a pause before your next rise.

And when that spark returns (because it will), it’ll shine warmer, wiser, and steadier than before.

Because you’ve learned what every doula eventually learns that even the caregiver needs to be

cared for, and that love, when tended to, always finds its way back.

Vanessa, Birth & Postpartum Doula