About Melanie Powell

Family has always been at the center of who I am. Long before I became a doula, I felt drawn to serve others—especially women walking through the vulnerable seasons of pregnancy, birth, and early motherhood. But it wasn’t until my own journey into motherhood that this calling took root in my heart.

When I gave birth for the first time, I entered the experience hopeful, trusting, and eager to meet my baby. Instead, I found myself swept into a medical system that moved faster than I could understand. I was told I “had to” accept certain interventions without being given the space to process, question, or make decisions for myself.

The result was a birth that left me feeling unheard, powerless, and disconnected from my own body.
And afterward, the emotional weight of that experience settled in deeply.

My postpartum season was marked by trauma, confusion, and a loneliness I could never have anticipated. I found myself asking: “Why didn’t anyone slow down for me? Why didn’t anyone help me understand? Why didn’t anyone just sit with me?”

I don’t share this part of my story to bring blame—only to shine a gentle light for the mother who may feel similarly.
You are not alone.
I have walked through the shadows, too.

Everything changed when a postpartum doula stepped into my life with compassion, gentleness, and unwavering presence. She didn’t rush me. She didn’t pressure me. She didn’t try to “fix” me.

She simply supported me—body, mind, and spirit.

Through her care, I experienced the kind of healing that only comes when someone sees you fully… and loves you right where you are. Her presence helped me rediscover my strength, reconnect with my body, and remember that God had not forgotten me.

“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in Him, and He helps me.” — Psalm 28:7

This healing wasn’t just for me.
It planted a seed.

A small seed—like the ones St. Thérèse of Lisieux wrote about—sown through quiet, loving acts.
And from that seed, my calling was born.

As I reflected on my own experience, I felt God gently inviting me to serve other women the way I once needed to be served:
with nurture, with calm, with reverence, with small acts done with great love.

Motherhood has a way of peeling back every layer.
It humbles you.
It reshapes you.
It reveals strengths you never knew you had.

But it also exposes wounds that need tending.
And no one should have to face that alone.

My journey into motherhood—though marked by trauma—became the very soil where my ministry of service began to grow. It taught me something I hold deeply even now:

Every mother deserves to feel seen.
Every mother deserves to feel supported.
Every mother deserves to feel empowered.
And every mother deserves to know that God is near.