“My father died unexpectedly in 2022,” Erin Reidy tells me. “As an only child with a disabled mother, the responsibility of handling all the logistics fell on me. From navigating his wishes to organising a funeral, getting a headstone, closing accounts, legal issues with his will… I could go on. When the dust settled and I finally had a chance to process, I thought: There must be a person who can help you navigate all of this. Someone proactive who knows how to support people through this process. A little searching later, and I realised death doulas are exactly those people.” Fascinated by the idea and eager to help others in her position, Reidy went on to train as a death doula herself.

While the idea of a ‘death doula’ may sound a bit woo-woo, they are an increasingly popular – and even vital – part of end-of-life care. You may already be familiar with the term ‘doula’, which refers to a trained, non-medical professional who supports patients through significant health events. Along with childbirth, birthing doulas can provide support for miscarriage and abortion, which is particularly important as access to reproductive care becomes more restricted across the US, among other places. In recent years, ‘gender doulas’ have also emerged to provide care and advocacy for individuals before, during, and after gender transition.

Death doulas, then, provide support, guidance and practical help to those approaching the end of their lives and their loved ones. The tasks they perform range from assisting with care and creating death plans to more logistical activities like helping mourners with funeral planning and understanding their rights and responsibilities. In the US, death doulas have moved from the fringe to the mainstream within a single decade, with membership of the National End-of-life Doula Alliance growing from just 260 in 2019 to 1600 in 2024.

A number of public figures are getting involved too: Hamnet director Chloe Zhao spoke about her training earlier this year, Rainn Wilson considered quitting acting to pursue the career in 2025, Daisy Jones and the Six actress Riley Keough has been practicing since 2021, and Nicole Kidman recently revealed that she has started the training. Like Reidy, she looked into the profession after suffering a bereavement: “As my mother was passing, she was lonely, and there was only so much the family could provide […] and that’s when I went, ‘I wish there was these people in the world that were there to sit impartially and just provide solace and care.”

Others come to be death doulas from other care or medical professions. Dr Emma Clare, Chief Executive Officer and practicing doula with End of Live Doula UK, became a death doula after working in the NHS as an assistant psychologist. “There was never a moment where I decided I wanted to become a doula, but with my background I knew I wanted to work in a role that involved helping improve communication in end-of-life care,” she says. “I did the doula foundation training [with Living Well Dying Well] and it was life-changing.”

Living Well Dying Well provides the only certified end of life doula training in the UK and works closely with End of Life Doula UK (EOLD UK) to create a network of death care specialists across the country. “Since the recent media interest due to Nicole Kidman’s announcement we have seen a big increase in the number of people contacting us,” reports Clare. But it’s not just Kidman driving this interest in death care (the training providerhas reported seeing a 40 per cent rise in learners since 2022). “I think people are becoming more informed about choices relating to their care and that their care is something they have control over. I also think the Covid-19 pandemic was a factor. Many people had experience of death, dying, and bereavement during this and these experiences are often what leads people to either become doulas themselves, or want a doula to improve their next experience.”

For Ruby Love, a death doula working in Bristol, our material conditions are also a factor, as “our NHS and social care systems become increasingly overwhelmed and restricted by underfunding, so people are looking in other places for support when facing their end of life.” For the those training to become doulas, it's often because they want to do somethig more meaningful with their working lives. “The dream capitalism tried to sell is more of a mirage now, and many are looking to spend their time in ways that make a genuine difference,” she adds. “What’s more rewarding at the end of the day? A half a percentage increase in KPI, or connecting with a human being on a very real level?”

Between genocides, wars, and global pandemics, it’s almost impossible to drift through life in a nothing-can-touch-me bubble

This drive for meaningful work may also be behind the growing numbers of young people entering the profession. When 33-year-old Love first started as a doula at 27, she was “one of a handful of younger doulas”, but she has noticed a significant increase since then. Many doulas are keen to engage younger people in discussions of death: as Reidy points out, death can affect people at any age, and getting to grips with death and death care earlier in life can be a positive thing.

“There’s this weird belief that not involving younger people in talking about death is protecting them,” Reidy says. “But go back only a few hundred years and caring for our dying and dead was a family and community act, something that was a part of life and not hidden away.” Reidy also runs a ‘death cafe’ in Manchester, part of a movement creating spaces where people can gather and chat about all things mortality. “We get an amazing mix of people, but I’d say the majority of those who attend are 20 to 30 years old. The last few years have really shaken up our awareness of mortality. Between genocides, wars, and global pandemics, it’s almost impossible to drift through life in a nothing-can-touch-me bubble.”

Ultimately, while the idea of death doulas might seem a little unorthodox at first, they empower dying people and their loved ones to reclaim some autonomy over the process of death. “[They can have a say] in where they can die and how they want to be cared for at the end of their life; [they have] the choice to ask for certain things and refuse others,” says Love. It’s comforting to know that, even in an era of increasing uncertainties around health and end-of-life care, there are people who make it their mission to ensure we can die with the care and dignity we all deserve.