When I was expecting my third baby, all I could focus on was the pregnancy and the upcoming birth. I quickly learned that all seemed to pass so quickly. My pregnancy was easy. I loved that time, feeling the baby wiggle and poke inside my abdomen. I used to play with my little babe, poking back.

Then in the blink of an eye, I was home with my little bundle. My birth was fast and uncomplicated. I was already a mother of two children, and I had a supportive partner. “But now,” I thought, “What do I do about feeding and making dinner and keeping the house clean? And how do I trudge up and down the stairs with a load of laundry and a baby in a sling? I can’t do this,” I thought.

Then my doula came to visit and she offered to give a little bit of extra support since my delivery was only an hour and a half. She suggested that I get as much extra rest as possible. I laughed! I was a mom to a newborn, a 5-year-old and a 7-year-old—when was I going to find time to nap? She suggested that she could help for a week or so and then she told me go and lie down. So off to bed I went with my new little bundle and I slept while my doula tidied up the house, made lunch for me, and ran a load of laundry.