If you've typed "how to become a doula" into Google at midnight, hello. I see you. I was you once.

There's a lot of glossy stuff out there about this work. Candles, cuddles, beautiful birth photos. And yes, there's some of that. But you deserve the honest version too. So here it is.

I'm autistic and I have ADHD. Back then I didn't have the words for it. I just knew that sitting in a room, being talked at, made something in me shut down. I'd nod. I'd take notes I'd never read again. And I'd go home completely drained.

So when I decided to build my own doula training, I made myself one promise. Nobody would have to learn like that on my watch.

"Neurodivergent friendly" is having a moment. You'll see it on job adverts, course pages, café menus. And I'm glad. But I've also noticed it often means very little in practice.

So let me tell you what it actually looks like in Becoming Doula. Not the buzzword. The real, day-to-day stuff.

Before I was a doula, I spent years helping big brands like the BBC, Poundland and Chester Zoo speak more effectively to their audiences.

Adverts on buses and billboards. Campaign strategy. Endless meetings about target audiences and behaviour change.

I left because I wanted to use those skills for something I believed in. But I didn't leave them behind. And it turns out the lessons from big-brand advertising translate beautifully to a birth business, whether you're a doula, a hypnobirthing teacher, a lactation consultant or a midwife going independent.