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Mamiflow, Belgradstraße 80, Munich (2025)

07/12/2025

Last week Amalia and Peter gave me the permission to share their amazing and empowering birth story! I hope you enjoy reading it!

„After a traumatic first birthing experience, I never could have imagined being in the position of looking forward to the second. But with the devoted support and guidance from Julia, this became my reality. Julia helped both me and my husband not only overcome our deep-rooted fears but actually enable us to feel excited for the magical experience we would soon have. Having a consistent caregiver throughout the pregnancy that understood our history and helped us form our vision, was essential to our positive experience.

When I became pregnant again, my husband and I knew we wanted and needed to do things differently this time. That’s when we decided to find a doula. After speaking with Julia it was clear from the start she would be that calm and nourishing voice we sought. Having a doula was without a doubt the most important and valuable investment we made in the pregnancy, birth, and baby. Unlike the many material things parents are marketed, the effects from hiring a doula are lifelong and benefit the whole family.

At the start of this process, the most important thing for us was feeling like we were in control and never left alone. Julia became that guarantee of support. We knew that no matter what situation we would find ourselves in on “the big day,” she would be our constant.
With each meeting, we grew to realize that the birth was not just about one day - it was a journey we were on together. This journey taught us to deeply reflect, and brought my husband and I closer together as life partners.

At one point, when the hypnobirthing we had been practicing left me feeling unsatisfied, Julia asked me how I imagined my most ideal birth. The conversation that followed revealed that I wanted to include belly dance in my daily practice and birthing process. Julia helped me individualize my birth and made me feel like I had the license to do what I wanted. Not necessarily just what was in trend. Her support gave me the agency to choose my method, my location, my care, and to believe in my decisions.“

🔜 Part II

13/10/2025

People often ask me why I do this work.
Why I keep saying yes.
Why I still wake up at 2 a.m. to answer a birth call,
why I give up holidays, dinners, sleep, and sometimes pieces of myself for people I may only know for a few months.
The truth is, I don’t always have a logical answer 😅
Because being a doula isn’t something I chose, like a career path or a hobby, it feels more like it chose me.

And of course there are easier ways to make a living.
There are cleaner jobs, quieter schedules, predictable hours.

But to be honest nothing else makes me feel as alive, as grounded, or as profoundly human as birth does and I just can’t imagine going back to the job I had before my doula work.

And you know what? It found me at a moment when I wasn’t even looking, and whispered in my ears, this is exactly where you’re meant to be...

07/10/2025

„I managed to give birth naturally after 22 hours of labour. Thank you for the valuable information you gave us during the birth preparation course.

Although everything went ok in the end, I think I did one mistake by asking the epidural after 14 hours, because my contractions have been 2 minutes apart for one minute long. Even if the epidural helped me to get some sleep because I felt exausted, I think it slowed me down, plus I was not able to get up from bed anymore, so I layed there for the next 12 hours, this was really hard. With my next pregnancy, I would really want to be able not to ask for the epidural.

After birth the milk came in about 4 days, and in the hospital I struggled with the baby because she was hungry and I had no milk to gave her, but now she is fully on breast milk.

But I am proud of myself because I was able to stay at home for the first part, and this was because we applied the information you gave us during the course, so thank you.“

Want to prepare for an easier labor?
Here are my tips and recommendations for expecting parents:

📚 Educate yourselves early. A good birth preparation course gives you confidence and tools to stay calm.

🏡Stay at home as long as you safely can. It helps you feel in control and move freely during early labour.

📝Have a plan, but stay flexible. Every birth unfolds differently and that’s okay.

🛌 Rest and conserve energy. Labour is a marathon, not a sprint.

💊If you choose pain relief, do so consciously. Understand how it might affect movement or labour progress.

🤱Postpartum takes patience. Milk can take a few days to come in — trust your body, and ask for support if needed.

👏Celebrate yourself. No matter how your birth unfolds, you are strong, and your story matters. 💖

Which tips are you planning to follow? And to the more experienced parents: which one do you recommend to have an easier labor?

21/09/2025

Walking away after a birth is never easy …

It’s a strange mixture of relief and lingering intensity.
Relief that everyone is safe.
Intensity because I carry it all — the hours of holding space, the energy, the emotion.

Sometimes it consumes me and it takes a while before my mind becomes quiet again …

At least until my phone rings and a mother tells me she needs my support because her baby is about to be born …

31/07/2025

Every birth wraps me up.
Not just for a moment, not just for a shift — but completely.

From the moment I go on call, I feel it: the quiet hum of anticipation, the invisible thread tying me to a family I’ve come to know, to trust, to stand beside. I check my phone more often. I wonder if today will be the day.

And when the call comes — it’s time — I step into their world fully. Into their kitchen, their hospital room, their birth space. Into their story. I’m not just a witness. I’m a part of it.

For hours — sometimes for days — I live inside their rhythm. I breathe with them, cry with them, laugh with them. I read between every line of their body language. I notice the tremble in her hands. The way he tries to stay strong. I move in quiet ways to offer what’s needed — a touch, a sip of water, a reminder to keep going.

In those moments, I belong to them.
Not as family.
Not as friend.
But as someone invited into a once-in-a-lifetime moment, and trusted to hold it with reverence.

And when it’s over — when the baby is here, when the room settles, when everyone is wrapped in blankets and quiet joy — there’s always a shift. I begin to step back. The thread starts to loosen. The story moves on… without me.

But something remains.
Because during that birth, I was part of something sacred.
For a few intense, intimate hours, I became woven into their life.

And even after I leave —
after I return to my own family —
that connection lives in me.

Every birth wraps me up.
And I carry a small piece of it forever 💜

30/07/2025

💜Today she is 41+6 weeks pregnant, today is EDD +13 - I admire her strength and her determination and I am honored to be a part of this journey 💜

⏳ No one prepares you for the strange in-between of being past your due date.
You expect excitement. You expect nerves.
What you don’t expect is the quiet, creeping weight of waiting.

At first, it’s just another day.
But then another. And another.
You wake up every morning wondering, Will it be today?
And go to bed feeling that soft sting of disappointment when it wasn’t.

For the mother:
It’s a mental marathon.
You feel watched — by friends, by family, by your own body.
Text messages start piling up:
Any news?
Still pregnant?
And the unspoken pressure grows: Why hasn’t the baby come yet?

You question your body. You question your instincts.
You swing between trusting nature and wanting someone — anyone — to tell you what to do.
You’re tired. Uncomfortable.
Every cramp feels like maybe. Every silence feels like not yet.

For the partner:
It’s a strange kind of helplessness.
You want to fix it, to support, to do something.
But there’s nothing to fix. Nothing broken.
Only time, stretching long and slow.

You try to stay positive. You try to distract her.
But inside, you carry your own uncertainty.
You wonder if you’re saying the right things, if you’re holding her the right way, if she’s okay.

For the doula:
This is where presence becomes everything.
I check in gently — not too often, not too little.
I listen for what’s underneath the words:
The frustration. The fear. The deep desire to finally meet this baby.

I hold the tension with her.
I remind her she’s not broken.
I remind him that patience is also support.
I remind myself that this is birth too — not just the moment of crowning, but this moment. The waiting.

There is no “wrong” way to feel in these days.
Angry. Restless. Tearful. Peaceful. Tired. Ready.
It all belongs.

Because when we are beyond the due date,
we are also beyond control.
We are deep in surrender.

… and that is one of the hardest — and most important — parts of the journey.

04/07/2025

Sometimes I don’t show up at a party. Sometimes I arrive late, apologizing, breathless and distracted. Sometimes I slip out early, hugging people goodbye …

On-call life means that my calendar can never really be mine. Invitations come, and I want to say yes wholeheartedly — but I know that birth has the final word. I try to plan, to be present, to show up for family and friends the way they deserve. But birth has its own timing.

People sometimes ask, How can you live like that? My answer is: Because this work matters and this is exactly where I am meant to be!

Because in between all those celebrations and routines, women are doing the most vulnerable, most powerful thing imaginable. They are bringing life into the world. And they want me to be with them.
It isn’t always easy, but it’s an honor, It costs me things — memories I might have made, hours of sleep (countless hours 😅), and of course time with my own loved ones. 
But it gives me something, too: a sense of deep purpose that fills my heart and makes me grateful for my life.

So sometimes I don’t show up. Sometimes I come too late. Sometimes I leave early.

Because somewhere, a woman is waiting to be held while giving birth to a little miracle!
 Yes, in between my normal life there is birth 💜

14/06/2025

It’s not about the baby — it’s about the mother!

People often assume I do this work because I love babies.
And of course — new life is beautiful. Miraculous, even.

But for me, that’s not the center of the story.

The mother is.

The moment of birth is hers.
Her body. Her breath. Her unraveling and becoming.

It’s her eyes I watch when the surge takes her breath away.
It’s her voice I anchor when she says, “I can’t.”
It’s her strength I witness when everything inside her says no — and she says yes anyway.

The baby is the result.
But the mother is the journey.

She’s the one who walks through fire.
Who stretches in ways she never imagined.
Who grieves, hopes, releases, trusts, fights, surrenders.

She is why I do this work, why I stay awake for 12h, 30h or even 36h during this life-changing process.

Not to hold the baby — but to hold her.

Because she will remember how she was treated.
How she was seen.
How she was spoken to in her most vulnerable hours.

And if I can make that moment feel even a little more supported, a little more sacred —
then that is enough.

I will catch up on sleep later …

09/06/2025

✨ What mothers tell me, right after the baby is born

The baby is here.
The room is quiet again — a hush that follows the storm.
Her body is trembling, her breath is uneven, and her eyes are wide with everything she just went through.

I’ve seen it so many times.
The moment her gaze finds mine again — not just as the doula, but as the person who stood right beside her through the hardest part.
The one who held her hand while she roared.
The one who spoke the words she needed when she doubted herself.

And then she says it.

“How do women go through all this without someone like you?”

It’s not flattery.
It’s not drama.
It’s the realization that what she just did was massive.
And that support — real, grounded, continuous support — mattered.

Because birth isn’t just a medical event. It’s a rite of passage.
It’s physical, yes. But also emotional. Spiritual. Existential.

No one should have to navigate that alone.

This work doesn’t make me a hero.
It just makes me human, in service to something ancient and real.
And when a mother looks at me, her newborn baby in her arms, and says those words —
it reminds me why I keep saying yes.

30/05/2025

“I Didn’t Know I Was Allowed to Ask for More”

She told me the story a year later.
Not in tears — just with a kind of quiet, heavy honesty.

“It wasn’t what I expected,” she said.
“Not just the pain — but how alone I felt in it.”

Her labor came on strong and fast.
She didn’t know what was normal, or when to go in.
By the time they reached the hospital, she was overwhelmed — and unsure who to talk to.

She said yes to everything.
To the monitor. To the IV. To the epidural.
Not because she felt informed — but because she didn’t feel like she had a choice.

The staff was kind, but busy.
Her partner was there, but scared.
No one really explained anything.

She kept waiting for someone to look her in the eye and say, “You’re doing great.”
No one did.

She cried after the birth. Not from joy.
From exhaustion. From disconnection. From the deep ache of something she couldn’t name.

Later, she found the word for it: unsupported.

“I didn’t know doulas were a thing,” she told me.
“I didn’t know I was allowed to ask questions. Or say no. Or be held.”

And then she said the thing I hear more often than I wish I did:
“If I had had a doula… I think the whole story would have been different.”

Not because we would’ve stopped everything hard.
But because she would’ve had someone —
To tell her what was happening.
To ask her how she felt.
To remind her that her voice mattered, too.

She’s planning her next birth now.
And this time — she won’t be alone 💜

28/05/2025

The Dads …

Quiet strength, deep love, and finding their place in the birth room 💙

They often come in quietly.
Slightly unsure.
Holding a bag, or a hand, or their breath.

Not always knowing what to expect.
Not always knowing how to help.
But hoping, deeply, that they’ll do something right.

I watch them —
how they hover protectively,
how they try to be strong,
how they sometimes disappear into the corner, afraid to take up space.

And I gently guide them in.

Because the truth is: they belong here, too.
Not just as a witness. Not just as support.
But as someone becoming a parent in real time — even if not through labor.

I’ve seen dads cry the first time their partner moans through a contraction.
I’ve seen them whisper strength into ears,
rub backs for hours,
hold ice chips like they were sacred.

I’ve seen fear in their eyes when things change quickly.
And I’ve seen the fierce tenderness in the moment they meet their child.
That first touch. That first kiss.
That look that says: “I didn’t know I could love like this.”

Some dads are hands-on.
Others are quiet observers.
Some need permission to soften.
Some need reminding that they matter in this room, too.

Because it’s not just the birth of a baby —
it’s the birth of a father.
And that transformation, though different from the one in the birthing body,
is no less real.

So I speak to them, too.
I show them how to support without needing to fix.
I help them find their calm.
I tell them, “She’s doing the work of birth. You’re doing the work of holding her steady.”

And when it’s over —
when the tears fall,
when the baby cries,
when the world shifts —
I make space for their awe.
Their relief.
Their quiet, overwhelming love.

Because dads deserve more than a chair in the corner.
They deserve to be seen.

24/05/2025

The quiet after …

The world celebrates birth.
The photos, the flowers, the baby’s name written in soft script.
But then, the room empties.
And postpartum begins.

It’s quieter than people expect.
Lonelier, too.

The adrenaline fades.
The congratulations stop.
And suddenly, there is this huge shift — physically, emotionally, hormonally — and almost no one is prepared for it.

I’ve sat beside mothers in the first 24 hours, still bleeding, milk coming in, trembling with exhaustion, staring at their baby and whispering,
“I thought I would feel different.”
“Why am I crying so much?”
“I feel like I don’t know who I am.”

And I tell them:
That’s postpartum.
That’s the realness no one posts about.

It’s the ache in your hips.
The sting when you p*e.
The sweat. The cluster feeding. The crying at 2 a.m. because your baby won’t latch — and the crying at 4 a.m. because they finally did, and it hurts.

Postpartum is identity breaking and rebuilding.
It’s grief for the version of you that just ended.
And love for the baby you’ve only just met.

It’s partners unsure of how to help.
Visitors who mean well but stay too long.
A body that feels both miraculous and unfamiliar.

And through it all, the world expects you to be glowing.

But real postpartum is messy.
Tender. Raw.

And it deserves to be held.
With softness. With patience. With presence.

Mamiflow

07/12/2025

13/10/2025

07/10/2025

21/09/2025

31/07/2025

30/07/2025

04/07/2025

14/06/2025

09/06/2025

30/05/2025

28/05/2025

24/05/2025

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