“I think I want to be transformed.”

Hi! I’m Amy 😊🌀

My shift into motherhood was intense. I gave birth to my first son in December of 2020, amidst the isolation and intensity of the Covid-19 pandemic. Birth cracked me open, and then that crack felt like it remained for years. It was one of the best times of my life, getting to know my first child — but I also felt a sense of loss and grief. Goodbye to my childhood, my maidenhood, the person I was before. Hello to someone and something fully new. I felt newborn too.

Five years later, I have two sons, and I feel like I’ve passed through the crucible of matrescence. It took so much longer and required so much more of me than I ever expected — and offered so much more soul and beauty than I had ever expected too.

My second birth was a really important moment for me — returning to the birth space with knowledge of the trial that was waiting for me. It felt deliberate, and difficult. I knew I needed help. It was then that I learned the deep and raw value of doula support for childbirth. A seed was planted deep in me.

My doula practice is called Loon. That’s because, throughout early motherhood, I’ve thought a lot about them.

I wrote the poem I share here in 2020 shortly after my first baby was born. At first I resonated with the way loons dive underwater and swim far away, unseen. I felt like I was deep below the surface. I didn’t know where I would emerge.

Then, I learned that mother loons carry their babies on their backs for weeks after they are born. These mothers have to give up their ability to dive deep alone for a while to keep their babies safe while they grow. This realization floored me. I felt a sense of instant recognition — me too!

I didn’t hear the call to become a doula until I found myself in the birth space, photographing my friend’s birth. It was the same room where I had given birth to both of my sons. The same room where I had moved through the same passage my friend was moving through then. I felt a sudden flash of recognition — this is exactly where I need to be. To witness my friend moving through the threshold of birth, all the challenge and change and surrender and raw love. To stand in that theshold with her, bearing witness, holding space, capturing memories with my camera. It all felt so important, so holy and rare and real. I could have stayed in that room forever, waiting and watching and feeling the energy of transformation. I understood instantly that my life was changing, and that I knew that I needed to step into my call as a birth worker. And now it is such an honor to join you in your birth space, to witness your transformation.

Why all the Mary Cassatt?

I have always been inspired by Mary Cassatt’s portrait practice, and then motherhood shifted that inspiration into near obsession — the way her work centralizes the mother and child as an endlessly worthy subject, elevating ordinary daily caregiving to the realm of fine art. Her work changed the world and has always meant so much to me, and as an artist and doula serving Pittsburgh families, drawing inspiration from a Pittsburgh-born artist feels even more special. Ordinary caregiving is worthy of the artist’s gaze. Childbirth is commonplace, but it is also extraordinary. These small things deserve great attention. 

I do want to call out that I wish she had been able to paint more diverse subjects, both racially and economically. Her imagery largely depicts a very white and relatively upper-class experience of motherhood. In that light, I want to reiterate that I believe all mothers and children are equally worthy, all are extraordinary and beautiful and powerful in the mystery of love.

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