Why Do Doulas Charge So Much?

I was sitting in the garden today, watching my little girl splashing around in the pool while the sun was shining, and I had a very simple thought.

I’d love a glass of Sauvignon Blanc right now.

Cold. One ice cube. A bag of crisps on the side.

Absolute perfection.

But I can’t.

And that’s the reality of being an on-call doula.

I’m at home every day with my daughter because we home educate. It means I have to have childcare sorted at a moment’s notice. My doula bag is always packed. The car always needs petrol. I’m constantly checking my phone, constantly thinking, please don’t let me be too far away, please let childcare be covered, please let nothing change.

It’s a low-level anxiety that never really goes away.

I’m sure every doula feels this to some extent, but being a single mum definitely adds another layer to it.

The thing is, I can’t let women down.

The families who hire me are relying on me to be there, and I take that responsibility incredibly seriously. Once I’m on call, I’m on call. They know I’m coming, and I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I get there.

But it’s hard.

And it’s not just the on-call period.

I work incredibly closely with the families I support. My phone is constantly pinging with messages, voice notes and questions. We’re talking about birth plans, appointments, fears, excitement, partners, scans, due dates, inductions, sweeps, hospital policies and everything in between.

It’s one of the reasons I’ve had to put boundaries in place recently and change my working hours to 9am until 6pm. Otherwise, I’d quite happily still be replying to clients at midnight because, once we get talking, we don’t stop.

That’s the relationship we build.

I think a lot of people see a doula supporting a birth and assume that’s what they’re paying for. The antenatal sessions, the breathing techniques, the birth positions, holding your hand through labour, filling the birth pool, making cups of bone broth afterwards and quietly tidying up before slipping away.

And yes, that’s part of it.

But it’s so much more than that.

It’s the letters I help women write when they need to challenge a hospital decision.

It’s the hours spent finding and reading local hospital guidelines so families can understand why certain things are being offered and whether the evidence actually supports them.

It’s the messages after appointments when someone is scared and needs to hear, “Take a breath. Let’s look at your options.”

It’s the random check-in at 40 weeks and 5 days.

“How are you doing, Mum? Feeling like shit yet?”

It’s celebrating every little win, talking someone down from panic at 10am, and reassuring another person that they’re not broken because their baby hasn’t arrived on a date written on a piece of paper.

When I go on call at 38 weeks, my life stops.

The longest I’ve ever been on call for one client was until 44 weeks and 5 days.

Seven weeks.

Seven weeks of not having that glass of Sauvignon Blanc.

Seven weeks of not driving two hours to visit my older daughter.

Seven weeks of not booking a last-minute trip anywhere. And anyone who knows me knows I love a spontaneous holiday to Turkey.

Seven weeks of making sure I’m never too far away, never too tired to drive, never unavailable, never switched off.

My life sits on pause because somebody else’s is about to change forever.

And I guess that’s why I charge what I charge.

You’re not just paying for the hours I’m in your home. You’re paying for the weeks that I quietly rearrange my own life around yours, just waiting for the call.

I absolutely love what I do. I genuinely can’t imagine doing anything else.

But I also think it’s important that women understand what goes into being an on-call doula.

It’s not just a job.

It’s a commitment, a responsibility and, for weeks at a time, it’s a way of life.

Some people might think doulas charge a lot.

I don’t.

In fact, I think most of us probably don’t charge enough.

What I charge is fair for the hours, the time, the emotional investment, the constant availability, the dedication and the privilege of walking alongside families during one of the biggest moments of their lives.

And despite the missed glasses of wine, the cancelled plans, the holidays that never get booked and the constant pinging of my phone…

I’d still choose it every single time.

Nat x