I’ve volunteered as an abortion doula for the past year and a half in the Washington, D.C., area. This is a look at what I do—and what I see—on a typical shift. For privacy reasons, I can't disclose any patient’s particular story, but what follows is a composite of many experiences.

We’re at a women’s health care center in Northern Virginia, in a suburb of Washington, D.C., on a Friday afternoon, one of four days a week the center offers medical and surgical abortions. I’m sitting with the next patient in the abortion doula room, a private space down the hall from the waiting area.

“Hi, my name is Augusta," I say. "Thanks for coming back with me. I wanted to talk to you for a few minutes before you go back to the waiting room to see how things are going and whether you’d like some extra support or company during your procedure today. How are you doing?”

The patient tells me she’s doing “OK.”

This is the point when I ask if she's heard of an abortion doula. Most people haven’t, or they say they’ve heard of birth doulas, trained birth workers who accompany women during labor and delivery. While I'm a labor and delivery nurse, I’m an abortion doula, too—and the work we do is just as important.

An abortion doula is someone who is trained to provide emotional, physical, and informational support during and after a surgical abortion procedure.

Like with most medical procedures, friends and family aren’t allowed to accompany a patient during the actual abortion. But some patients want support, like a hand to hold or someone to joke with and distract them during the procedure. Or, someone to be with them emotionally before and after, to listen and hold space for them to express what they feel. That’s where abortion doulas come in—we can offer free support to abortion patients throughout their time at the clinic.

After I explain what I do as an abortion doula, the patient says that sounds good, and that she’s nervous.

We talk a little more, and she reads and signs a consent form, which says that my work as an abortion doula is free and that I will not be providing medical care. I let her know I’ll meet with her again once she’s called back.

A bit later, I knock on the door to the procedure room. She’s ready, with a drape over her lower body, and I stand at the side of the table, doing my best to help her feel calm as we wait for the nurse to come in.

My fascination with pregnancy and birth began at nine years old, when my mom let me cut my little sister’s umbilical cord.

After college, I first worked in enterprise software sales—but after five years, I found myself drawn back to reproductive health care. I went back to school to study nursing for about two years. Now, I’m a registered labor and delivery nurse. Labor is long or terrifyingly fast; hot, cold, exhausting, sometimes scary, but always unpredictable. It swallows people whole. Usually, it’s one of the happiest, though hardest, days of a person’s life. Other times, it’s the saddest.

It’s common when reviewing obstetric history to see that a birthing parent has had one or more therapeutic abortions. Abortion and birth are inextricably linked—two stops on the same spectrum. Both are preceded by pregnancy and the multitude of factors that the weight of having a child begets. In my eyes, there is nothing heavier than the gravity of having a child (or another one). It is the greatest responsibility.