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Could a divorce doula be the secret to a better split?

When writer Kate Wills’ marriage broke down, hiring a new type of break-up expert helped her to navigate it

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During lockdown, a thick envelope arrived from my ex-husband’s solicitor. Although we had been officially divorced for several months, here was a wedge of forms to work out our financial settlement. Flicking through, I welled up at the thought that our former home – the house we had excitedly bought together and which I one day thought we’d fill with our children – was now our ‘joint asset’ to be carved up.

But aside from the emotional sucker punch, filling out the forms was also mind-numbingly complex. Was he the ‘respondent’ or was I? What did ‘beneficial interest’ actually mean? I took a deep breath and picked up the phone. But I didn’t call my best friend, or my lawyer. I called Laura, my divorce doula.

When I realised, three years ago, that my marriage was over, I didn’t know anyone else getting divorced. I was only 34 and most of my friends were just getting married. We’d been together for 12 years (and married for one) so I was grieving the end of my relationsh­ip while also trying to deal with getting divorced – one of the most stressful, baffling and expensive things you’ll ever go through.

After Googling ‘How to get divorced’ (yes, really), I emailed a divorce lawyer I knew but found, as a freelance writer trying to hold down a mortgage single-handedly, that her

services were way out of my price-range. I’d hoped that because my partner and I were still on speaking terms and didn’t have any children, we might be able to bypass lawyers altogether. But it turns out, getting un-wed is a lot more complicate­d than tying the knot.

It was my friend Vicky, a former celebrity PA, who recommende­d I try a divorce doula. At first, I laughed at what sounded like a California­n extravagan­ce, like hiring a therapist for your dog. But I was desperate and when I called Laura Rosefield, she instantly put me at ease. Rosefield, a former criminal barrister, set up as a consultant after her own ‘difficult divorce’ in 2010. ‘I’ve been through it myself, so I know how horrific it can be,’ she says, describing her role as one that ‘bridges the gap between a lawyer, a therapist and a mediator’. So far, she’s helped over 100 clients through their divorces, being everything from a shoulder to cry on at 3am to a financial adviser and a body-language coach, should your divorce ever make it to court.

Our first meeting was at her house in north London where she immediatel­y enveloped me in a massive hug. ‘You just start talking,’ Rosefield told me, when I confessed that I wasn’t sure where to start. ‘I’ll jump in when I need to ask questions.’ She then got out a notepad and drew three ‘train tracks’ on it, to help me understand that the arrangemen­ts for my divorce and my finances were two separate legal processes which run parallel and occasional­ly cross over. Children would be a third, but as we didn’t have any we could cross that one out. ‘Most people think getting divorced is one big process, but it’s three totally separate things,’ she explained. ‘Which is why popular misconcept­ions such as “he cheated, so I get the house” are so wrong.’

Although most people are now familiar with the concept of hiring a doula for childbirth (someone to support the mother’s interests who is not part of the medical establishm­ent), the concept is less familiar in other areas of our lives. But over the past few years, doulas have started to pop up to help people through other painful and potentiall­y traumatic experience­s. In the US, you can hire a ‘death doula’ to smooth your transition to the other side and I’ve also heard of women in New York using ‘abortion doulas’ to hold their hands through what can be a very emotional process.

So perhaps it’s not surprising that using divorce doulas (many prefer to be called a divorce consultant or coach) is now on the rise in the UK. Although 42% of marriages end in divorce, it remains a remarkably misunderst­ood topic. The average divorce takes 17 months and 26 days, which gives you some idea of the complexity, not to mention the paperwork, involved.

Many divorce doulas are, like Rosefield, former lawyers who, fed up with working in an adversaria­l system, now want to work more harmonious­ly with couples, combining their legal skills and knowledge with empathy. Others have psychology background­s or have trained in counsellin­g or as life coaches. As with any profession­al you hire, it’s important to check their credential­s beforehand, and ask to speak to past clients if you’re not sure.

I ended up not needing a divorce lawyer at all, which saved me a small fortune (Rosefield’s fees are half that of a London-based family lawyer, who typically charges £450-£750 an hour), but it’s more common for divorce doulas to work in tandem with your legal team. Unlike your solicitor, they’re allowed to work with both parties in a couple if you need them to. My ex-husband, who always prefers to ‘do things properly’, insisted on lawyering-up. But I know he respected my decision to get independen­t advice from someone as knowledgea­ble as Rosefield. She took care of all the messy complicate­d stuff, while I focused on coming to terms with being single again.

Anyone who goes through a marriage break-up aspires to a ‘good divorce’. We all want to ‘consciousl­y uncouple’ like Gwyneth and Chris, or remain friends for life like Jen and Brad. The reality, in my experience, is that even the most amicable parting can get tricky very quickly. Once you start dividing up your life and laying the blame (the No-fault Divorce Bill is yet to pass) it’s surprising how quickly the gloves come off.

Relationsh­ip psychologi­st Kate Daly launched the service Amicable in 2015, which allows couples to negotiate arrangemen­ts and file paperwork without a lawyer. Like Rosefield, she

‘MANY DIVORCE DOULAS ARE FORMER LAWYERS’

was inspired to become a divorce coach after her own experience­s. ‘I spent £80,000 on legal fees during my trainwreck of a divorce in 2012,’ says Daly, who also hosts The Divorce Podcast. ‘I knew there had to be a better way.’

Daly says they’ve seen a massive surge in enquiries since lockdown and the divorce rate is expected to rise as a result. ‘We’re not about making it easier for people to divorce,’ she says. ‘We’re about people getting through the process in a way that doesn’t add to what is already a difficult situation. I’ve seen some really positive and inspiring stories of good divorces – couples who’ve decided to carry on co-owning their holiday home, for example, and who then go there with their new partners and blended families. Also couples who decide to ‘nest’ by keeping their family home and rotating in and out to look after the children.’

Claire*, 53, turned to a divorce coach in 2019. ‘My husband of over 20 years left me for a young Russian girl,’ she says. ‘I quickly discovered that you can only call your girlfriend­s sobbing so many times, and my lawyer wasn’t interested in the emotional side of things. When a marriage ends abruptly, you’re often in a state of shock, so you can’t think clearly. Also your friends and family are angry and say things like, “Tell him he can never see the kids again.” My divorce coach was neutral and knowledgea­ble and made me feel less out of control.’

Although my divorce is now finalised, Rosefield still checks in with me regularly to see how I’m doing, like an old friend would. My ex and I got through our divorce on good terms, for which I am forever grateful, and Rosefield was a big part of that. I now have a new partner and we just had a baby. People are often surprised that I’d be up for getting married again, but from my first marriage I learned what not to do, and I’m hopeful I’ll get it right this time. And that I won’t need Rosefield’s services again.

‘WE GOT THROUGH OUR DIVORCE ON GOOD TERMS’

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