Amanda | On Holding Space, Finding Your Village & Beginning Again
Amanda
On holding space, finding your village, protecting your heart, and having the courage to begin again.
Some friendships don't arrive with fireworks. They begin with a conversation that feels strangely familiar, as though you've known each other much longer than you actually have.
Amanda and I met while working together in tech. We spent a few years on the same team, but it wasn't really work that connected us. It was everything underneath it.
We discovered early on that we'd both been adopted. Our stories weren't identical, but they rhymed. There were pieces of our histories, the way we'd been raised, and even the way we interpreted the world that felt incredibly familiar to one another. There are certain things you don't have to explain when someone has lived close enough to the same edges.
Somewhere between work conversations, books, family, growing pains, and the strange plot twists adulthood keeps throwing at us, Amanda became one of my closest friends.
Over the last few years we've stayed in touch regularly, bonding over life and our mutual inability to behave normally around a good dark fantasy novel. She's someone I can talk to about the big things and the absolutely ridiculous things, often within the same conversation.
And I think she's amazing.
One of the things I admire most about Amanda is her willingness to begin again. After being laid off twice in two years from a career in tech, she found herself confronting a question many of us eventually face: What happens when the life you planned stops being the life that's available to you?
Instead of forcing herself back onto the same path, she listened when another one appeared.
Today, Amanda is building a new career as a postpartum doula, caring for parents during one of the most beautiful, exhausting, vulnerable transitions of their lives.
What struck me most while reading her answers wasn't simply what she does. It was how much of Amanda exists inside the work.
West Coast heart. Bookworm brain. Doula soul.
A wife, mother, reader, yoga lover, former tech professional, and someone who believes deeply in the power of being supported through life's biggest transitions.
Current Chapter
Building Held Together Doula
Happy Place
Anywhere near water
Reading Habit
Never just one book
Weakness
Dark fantasy and complicated fictional men
“ We are not meant to do this on our own.
Who Amanda Is
Tell me a little about yourself. Who are you when no one is asking what you do for work?
I'm a West Coast girl through and through. I've lived in every state on the West Coast, and I wouldn't have it any other way.
I'm also a wife and a mother, both roles that I feel like I grow into more every day. Lately I've really gotten into yoga and taking care of my body while also taking care of my mind.
And I'm absolutely a bookworm. If you know me, you know I'm probably not reading one book. I'm reading at least two.
I'd also say I'm adventurous. That part of me slowed down a little after having a family, but lately I've been getting the itch again, so we'll see where that takes me.
Beginning Again
What led you to become a doula? Was there a moment when you knew this was the path you wanted to follow?
There were a couple of things that steered me toward birth work.
I was laid off twice in two years while working in tech, and this time around the job search felt especially daunting. I realized I might have to pivot completely.
I wasn't sure what I was going to do when a friend mentioned becoming a postpartum doula. I started researching it and realized the work aligned surprisingly well with the skills I'd developed as a Customer Success Manager.
My clients would simply be mothers instead of businesses.
I really knew this path was meant for me when I started seeing how rewarding even the smallest wins could be. I had a mother almost in tears because together we'd figured out a way for her to comfortably wrap her baby so she could finally go on walks.
That moment stayed with me.
Redefining Strength
Birth is such a vulnerable experience. What has it taught you about strength?
I think the way the world defines strength is completely skewed.
Strength is keeping yourself and another human alive for nine months. It's allowing yourself time to heal after birth.
It's also giving yourself permission to grieve who you were before motherhood while fully accepting who you're becoming as a mother.
Strength is understanding that you don't have all the answers and knowing that leaning on other people isn't weakness.
“ Strength is understanding that you don't have all the answers.
The Village
What's something people misunderstand about being a doula?
I think people assume we're primarily there for the baby.
The baby cuddles are definitely a bonus, but my real job is taking care of the parents mentally, physically, and emotionally.
Has this work changed the way you think about your own life or motherhood?
It's given me a completely different lens into what our bodies and minds go through after becoming parents and how much we genuinely need a village.
We aren't meant to do this on our own.
As mothers, we need to have a voice. We need to advocate for self-care and give ourselves permission to honor this entirely new experience.
Looking back, I had incredible support, but I don't think I gave myself enough grace to simply feel everything I was feeling and enjoy that season.
Quiet Moments
What part of your day feels the most like you?
The quiet moments when I get to reflect.
Sometimes I just look at my life and wonder how I got here and how blessed I am.
Dark Fantasy & Healing
We both have a weakness for dark fantasy. What is it about those worlds that keeps pulling you back?
I think it's the journey of flawed humans finding the one person they finally feel safe with.
So often the main character doesn't believe they have the capacity to love or doesn't feel worthy of being loved, and I can never get enough of watching them find their person and experiencing the healing that comes with that.
Honestly, those stories have helped me process things I don't think I would have otherwise been able to articulate. Sometimes they've even helped me recognize things I didn't realize I needed to reflect on.
“ Sometimes fiction helps us find language for things we didn't know how to say.
The things that stay.
Feathers So Vicious. I was not mentally prepared for how dark it was, but the emotional exploration was incredible.
My husband. He's my peace. He grounds me in a way nothing else ever has.
Patience, patience, patience. I'm learning to give myself grace, trust the process, and figure out what works for me.
People's drama. At some point we're grown enough to take responsibility for our own choices.
My heart. I've become very intentional about the people and energy I allow into my life.
True happiness. Choosing to find the positive in just one thing every single day.
I feel most alive when...
I'm by the water. I feel alive and completely at peace at the same time. It doesn't matter whether it's the ocean or a lake. That's my true happy place.
Choosing Your Own Life
If someone reading this has been waiting for permission to choose a life that feels more like their own, what would you tell them?
Don't let anyone stop you from finding your own path.
It might mean choosing one small thing for yourself, or it might mean making a life-altering decision.
Either way, don't give up on creating a life that feels rewarding to you.
If You're Looking for Your Village...
Amanda now supports families through the beautiful, messy, exhausting, and transformative postpartum season. If you're expecting, navigating new parenthood, or simply want someone in your corner during one of life's biggest transitions, I encourage you to learn more about her work.
And because I have the privilege of knowing the woman behind the work, I can say this part personally: I can't recommend her enough.
The kind of person who makes space.
One of the gifts of writing this series is getting to introduce you to people I genuinely love.
Amanda is one of those people.
She's the friend I text about books, motherhood, relationships, whatever strange thing life is currently teaching us, and probably whichever morally questionable fictional man has taken over our reading lives that week.
But beneath all of that is something I've always valued about our friendship.
Amanda makes space for people.
Reading her answers back, I realized how much that idea runs through everything she believes: the importance of a village, the safety of being deeply known, the courage it takes to ask for help, the way love can ground us, and the necessity of protecting our hearts without closing them completely.
Maybe that's part of why becoming a doula makes so much sense for her.
Strength doesn't always look like carrying everything yourself.
Sometimes it looks like allowing yourself to be held.
Sometimes it looks like beginning again when the old version of your life no longer fits.
And sometimes it looks like standing beside another person during a season when they barely recognize themselves and quietly reminding them that they don't have to carry it all alone.
Amanda reminds me that some of the strongest people aren't the ones who take up the most space. They're the ones who know how to make space for everyone else.