My name is Elizabeth, but that’s not the name anyone really uses. My close family calls me Liz, and everyone else calls me Elle (pronounced like Ellie), which is the name I’ve always preferred. I’m 31 years old, a mother of four incredible kids, and I’ve been married to my husband for 13 years. Most of my life has been spent in Utah, though there were breaks when my husband’s army service moved us from one duty station to another. I’ve always been the kind of person who wants to help others, someone drawn to roles where I could be of service. Over the years, my interest in women’s health slowly grew into a deep passion—and I didn’t yet realize that this interest would guide me to exactly where I am today.
I think my path to becoming a doula really began with recognizing what I had been missing in my own births. I’ve experienced nearly every type of birth. My first was induced and ended in a C-section due to hypertension that nearly became preeclampsia. My second pregnancy was healthy, with labor starting naturally, then augmented with Pitocin, and made bearable with an epidural. My third was similar, except a hemorrhage during delivery scared my husband and left me shaken. After my second birth, I started reading about doulas and the support they offer, but I always thought, “I have the hospital and plenty of support—I don’t need a doula.”
With my third birth, I still went without a doula. I had the hospital staff, medication, my husband, and our children—why would I need anyone else? But during that birth, I felt rushed, depersonalized, and like I was just another task to be completed. That feeling stayed with me and shifted my perspective. Afterward, I began exploring other options and realized I wanted something different for my next birth. I spoke with my husband and decided that, as long as I was healthy enough, I wanted a home birth. I wanted a midwife I could trust, someone who truly listened and cared about my wishes.
I was connected with Miracle Midwifery in Layton, Utah, under the care of Amanda Counter, Krista Miracle, and student midwife Amanda Mauch. They were everything I could have hoped for—and more. They suggested that since this would be my first unmedicated birth, I consider hiring a doula to help manage pain naturally, ensure I stayed hydrated and nourished, and generally make sure my needs were met. I hesitated. I already had two midwives, a student, my husband, and our housemate—what more could a doula provide? But the more I researched, read, and asked questions, the more I realized a doula could make a real difference. That’s when I hired Katie of Freya Birth.
Katie was an absolute blessing. She was present for every contraction, reminded me to breathe, held me when I felt like I might crumble, and provided wisdom and support that I didn’t know I needed. I genuinely believe she made my birth as calm, safe, and comfortable as it was. Surrounded by the people I loved and a birth team I trusted, I had my daughter at home in a birthing tub, in the middle of my living room—a calm, quiet, and deeply nurturing environment.
Four months later, as the COVID-19 pandemic settled in, I found myself with time to pursue something new. I decided to start my own business, filed for my license, launched a website, and officially became a doula over a year ago. What began as women-centered care quickly expanded. As I dove deeper into this career, I noticed gaps in care for marginalized communities, especially for LGBTQ+ families or those outside Utah’s mainstream cultural mold. As a cisgender, pansexual, polyamorous doula in a community largely composed of straight, white, cisgender people, I realized that inclusive, supportive care needed to be my focus. That has become one of my central missions.
When people first meet a doula, they often ask, “Are you a midwife?” It’s a common question, and it makes sense why. On the surface, doulas and midwives may seem similar, but their roles are distinct. If I had to make a comparison, I’d say midwives are like OBGYNs, while doulas are like nurses—but with a far more personalized, supportive approach.
Midwives are medically trained; they can monitor vitals, prescribe medication, and intervene if complications arise. Doulas, on the other hand, provide emotional, physical, and informational support throughout pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. Doulas guide, comfort, and advocate, offering tools for coping with labor, reminders to hydrate and eat, massages, counter-pressure, rebozo work, and unwavering emotional support. I provide prenatal appointments to discuss birth plans, fears, and emotional roadblocks, and I connect clients with midwives, lactation consultants, birth educators, therapists, and other community resources. Together, we build a primary birth plan—and backup plans—so that no matter what happens, families feel prepared and supported.
During labor, I arrive when my clients need me, sometimes early to help manage pain or assist with positioning. I stay through the entire birth, offering guidance, encouragement, and comfort. Afterward, I support breastfeeding, provide postpartum resources, help with small household tasks, and follow up for weeks to ensure both the parent and baby are thriving.
But doula work goes far beyond these responsibilities. It’s forging lasting bonds with clients, donating breastmilk in emergencies, supporting families through miscarriage or stillbirth, and sharing in the full spectrum of human emotion—joy, grief, exhaustion, and elation. It’s waking up sore after 12+ hours of labor support, running on little food or sleep, pumping between contractions for my own baby at home, and giving every ounce of care I can. It’s demanding, yes—but it’s also profoundly meaningful. I couldn’t ask for a more rewarding, beautiful, and life-changing job.
