Eleanor Lambert Doula

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It is my greatest hope that as a doula I can educate and empower birthing people, and their partners, through the wondrous but sometimes confusing, challenging, and overwhelming time that is pregnancy, labour and birth.

No one else can do the work for you. Not your midwife.Your partner.Your doula.We can stand by you, and hold space for yo...
19/09/2024

No one else can do the work for you.

Not your midwife.
Your partner.
Your doula.

We can stand by you, and hold space for you.
Encourage you and bolster you.

But we can't labour for you.

Understanding what is happening during your birth is powerful.
Knowing what interventions or assistance you may or may not want is powerful.
Choosing how you want to birth, where and with whom is powerful.

Sure, there will always be factors outside of your control, but that doesn't mean you must leave everything to chance.

Learn what you can.
Control what you can.
Influence what you can.

And let go of everything else.

When you sit with doubt, with stress. When you look at your newborn baby and think "I don't even know what I'm doing" pl...
18/09/2024

When you sit with doubt, with stress. When you look at your newborn baby and think "I don't even know what I'm doing" please remember -- they don't know what they're doing either.

📸

As you emerge from the newborn haze and face the reality of caring for this little life, please remember that your baby isn't judging you. They aren't comparing you to another.
You haven't parented before, but they haven't been a baby before. You're both new to this.

And together you'll learn.
Together you'll grow.

It may come easily, and feel instinctive.
It may take weeks, and be a challenge.
Both are okay.
You're not broken. You are learning.

Learning which noises mean hunger.
Learning which squarks mean distress.
Figuring out what your baby needs when they are tired, when they are uncomfortable, when they just need to be held.

So take a breath.
Take a moment.
Relax your shoulders.
Unclench your jaw.

And remember -- you're doing your best, and your best is good enough.

Labour would be easier if we knew how long it lasted, right?Until recently, I would have agreed.The idea that if someone...
12/09/2024

Labour would be easier if we knew how long it lasted, right?

Until recently, I would have agreed.
The idea that if someone told you, at the beginning of your labour, exactly how many hours it would be until you met your child, it would give you a timeframe and an objective goal to work towards..

Maybe if your labour was 6 hours, sure.
Maybe if it was even 8 or 10.

But if someone had told me it would take 23 hours for me to birth my son, my second child, after experiencing an incredibly intense but swift 4 hour induced labour with my daughter? I'd tell them to f**k right off.

Staring down the barrel of 23 hours would not have put me in a good mental position for my son's birth. Especially with two stalls where my contractions slowed and a pushing phase where he moved millimetres at a time.

I now strongly feel that not knowing how long our labours will be is part of how our body prepares us for the challenge.
Riding that constant potential for your baby to be born in the next few contractions is one of the best motivators for a person to keep going.

"Your baby is almost here"
"You've done so well, it's not long now"
"Keep going, you will meet them so soon"

These encouragements help us to push forward.
To recoup and continue on when it really seems impossible that labour will ever stop.

We think we work better with deadlines. With objective measurements of time. With knowing.

But we really don't.
Birth is one time, one moment, where the unknown can be integral in pushing past what we thought was our limit.

Your baby will be here.
When? Sooner than when you had your first contraction.

You don't need to be rescued from your labour.📸 When we see someone we love in pain, our first instinct is to help them....
12/09/2024

You don't need to be rescued from your labour.

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When we see someone we love in pain, our first instinct is to help them. To find the source of the pain and take it away.

This is completely appropriate for pathological pain - your partner cuts their finger, your daughter grazes her knee, your friend gets conked on the head by a coconut -- there is a known negative cause for the pain and you are right to offer them help.

But in the context of physiological pain, this rescuing mentality is likely misplaced.

If you're in an exercise class doing squat pulses - no one offers you an icepack.
If your partner is 20km into a 30km bush-walk - you don't offer to carry them the final kilometres.

Physiological pain is an expression of the effort our body is going through.
The tightening, cramping, burning pain of a contraction happens because the muscles of your uterus are working so very hard.

If your partner doesn't understand the physiology of labour, they are likely to be concerned.
If you aren't confident in your breathing techniques or mindfulness, your own ability to move through the contraction and work with your surges; your reaction to the pain of a surge is likely to be heightened.

And then comes the rescuing.

The insistence that you need help.
That you need pain relief.
That you must have the epidural now.

The "oh, babe, I'm so sorry" or "I wish I could stop it" or "you don't have to do this anymore" -- which in the moment can undermine any resolve you have to work through the next surge.

What we need instead, from your support team, is positivity.
"You've got this"
"You're already doing it"
"You are so strong"
"I am so amazed by you"

A birthing person doesn't need to be saved from their labour, they need to hear from the people that love them the most that they are unquestionably able to weather the pain, astoundingly strong, and completely capable of birthing this baby.

Pregnancy loss is never easy.It doesn't matter when, or how.If you know, or it takes you by surprise.If it's your first ...
12/09/2024

Pregnancy loss is never easy.

It doesn't matter when, or how.
If you know, or it takes you by surprise.
If it's your first pregnancy or the final child in your family.

Nothing prepares you for the range of emotions you are bound to feel.
No one can predict how long it will take you to feel whole again.

What can help you to survive is your support network.

Which is why the old-school rule to wait until 12 or 13 weeks to announce you are pregnant can do more harm than good.

If no one knows, who can support you?

I chose to tell my family and close friends around 4 or 5 weeks with my pregnancy in 2021.
Why?
So they could be there if I needed them.
So I didn't have to tell them I was pregnant before explaining that I now wasn't.
So I didn't have to put on a brave face or pretend to anyone if the worst happened.
So when I crumbled and broke down they were already at my house, ready to catch me.

📸 .lorenz

Transition takes time.📸 Many parents remember how anxious they felt when their baby was born purple, grey, or anything a...
12/09/2024

Transition takes time.

📸

Many parents remember how anxious they felt when their baby was born purple, grey, or anything apart from the expected bright pink.

It's an image that sticks in the mind.
"We didn't know if they were okay"
"I wasn't expecting them to look purple"

Let's break it down.

When your baby is in utero they don't use their lungs. Oxygenated blood (red) is transported from the placenta, around their body, bypassing the lungs before going back through the umbilical cord to the placenta as de-oxygenated blood (blue).

As amniotic fluid is protecting the skin, preventing it from drying out, and keeping bub warm, the needs of the skin are lowered -- so blood with a lower percentage of oxygen is required -- resulting in a purple appearance, or even a grey/ashy appearance due to the decreased blood volume supplied to the skin.

When bub is born it takes time for their body to switch from placental supplied oxygen to respiratory supplied oxygen.
As they start to use their lungs, there is a slow increase in the amount of oxygenated blood in their system. The body will supply the major organs first, and then the skin -- with hands and feet often last.

Whilst blue and purple tones can sometimes be a cause for concern, for the most part it is a completely expected part of your baby's transition earthside - a slow 'pinking-up' as they take those first few breaths.

We have varied opinions about everything else in our life, why should we expect birth to be the exception? ...
12/09/2024

We have varied opinions about everything else in our life, why should we expect birth to be the exception?

We have a romanticised view of homebirth.📸 We see the highlight reel. All the pictures of fairy lights.The warm colours ...
12/09/2024

We have a romanticised view of homebirth.

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We see the highlight reel.
All the pictures of fairy lights.
The warm colours of home.
Fluffy blankets and blissed out faces.

But birth is hard.
Regardless of where it happens.

I birthed Alistair at home.
Was it beautiful? In sections, yes.
But mostly? No.

It was powerful.
It was strong.
It was transformative.
It was f**king hard.

It broke me down.
And built me up again.

I laboured for 23 hours.
There were times when I could not imagine that it would ever end.
Times where I truly believed that I would be in labour forever.

Did it make a difference to birth at home? Absolutely.

But was it easy? No.

Get EMPOWERed!Feeling overwhelmed? I've got you 🙌🏻Online and self-paced, this education course ensures that you and your...
03/08/2024

Get EMPOWERed!

Feeling overwhelmed? I've got you 🙌🏻

Online and self-paced, this education course ensures that you and your birth partner understand the fundamentals of the wondrous but sometimes confusing, challenging, and overwhelming time that is pregnancy, labour and birth.

And then he was here.Born on 5.6.23, my sonshine ☀️📸
17/06/2023

And then he was here.
Born on 5.6.23, my sonshine ☀️

📸

I found a note I had written for my partner on the first night I went out after Genevieve was born. I think she was arou...
01/01/2023

I found a note I had written for my partner on the first night I went out after Genevieve was born. I think she was around 12 weeks old.

After going through timings and instructions on how to properly heat the expressed milk, at the bottom of the note, I had written this:

"Remember, if grumbly: **
- Bored - sit up/change position.
- Bothered - reassure, give dummy.
- Bicycle legs - sore tummy.
- Bum
- B**b

** or Baby - just having a cry"

Preparing for parenting (or birth or breastfeeding or any new role or skill) isn't necessarily about knowing exactly how to do it or even exactly what might go awry.

It's having access to the right information, and confidence to use it to problem solve, that can make the biggest difference.

And to be secure enough in your own knowledge to accept that yeah, sometimes it simply is just a baby, having a cry.

📸

There's a huge disconnect in our society around our expectations of a pregnant body versus the those placed on a postpar...
07/10/2022

There's a huge disconnect in our society around our expectations of a pregnant body versus the those placed on a postpartum body.

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Often as soon as the day after our baby is born, we are already thinking about "getting back to normal" -- seeming to ignore the huge changes our body is still going through.

What is wrong with resting?
What is wrong with taking the time to heal?
Why is your body 'less than' now that it isn't housing your baby?
If your body was fruitful and adored yesterday, why is it now treated as lazy and out of condition?

We surround ourselves with huge expectations to eliminate the evidence of our recent journey.
We strive to "lose the weight".
Search for stretch mark creams.
Google how to make ourselves smaller.

Why do we not take the time to stand in awe at the sheer brilliance of our body?
Why are we not encouraged to love her in all that she is?

The absence of a baby in utero does not return you to your 'normal' - whatever that even means.

The immense changes that occur - the collagen ratios in your connective tissue, the stretch of your skin, the increased moveability of your joints, the soft feel of your belly - these changes do not suddenly disappear. You are still healing, you are still vunerable.

We love these things on babies. We love rolly thighs. Little bellies, and dimply bums.

So why do we not give ourselves the same care? Are we not deserving?
Is our body - this luscious vessel that not only birthed this baby, but grew it - is she not worthy of the same adoration?

When did we stop treating ourselves as the powerful beings that we are?

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Newcastle, NSW

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