Kylie Orr
Not all midwives are created equal. I’ve had some amazing midwives throughout my three pregnancies, labours and recoveries. And I’ve had some shockers. Some will stay with me forever and not in a fond way.
There’s no denying that first-time mums can be a volatile combination of hormones and emotions. Your body has been through some significant changes and then you get the grand finale: the actual labour, which may or may not go to plan. You’re presented with the life you’ve spent nine months growing, with a pat (or a slap) on the back and an “Off you go! Good luck.”
No wonder many of us look like deer in the headlights as we are waved off from hospital. It is terrifying, particularly when there is no buzzer with an experienced, encouraging midwife at the end of it. Sadly, not all midwives and maternity nursing staff have the patience and care that should be a basic prerequisite of the job.
This is not an opportunity to character assassinate midwives. I think they are remarkable beings and truly believe I couldn’t have managed my labours as successfully without them. A select few saved me from some pretty low spells, especially on the infamous Day Three when all I could perfect was crying. Kind words, empathetic smiles, patient instruction and tender advice all got me through those vulnerable moments. Thankfully the great midwives outweigh the substandard ones. Like any profession, some are better cut out for it than others. Chatting amongst friends, there is a common theme of at least one midwife on duty upsetting a new mum.
If you’re going to choose a job and you have a tendency to cave under pressure or get a case of the grumps because your colleague stole your coffee mug, then midwifery ain't your thing. We all get a bit stroppy at times. We all let loose in the workplace when it is not so appropriate and the pressure mounts. We are all imperfect. What I’m wondering is if the midwife who’s having a bad day realises the impact she has on a new mother? Or even on a not-so-new mother?
When I had my second son, it ended in an emergency c-section because he was breech. His position was discovered in labour so I had no time to prepare. The labour was full on and the decision was made quite late to do the c-section. In retrospect, I am relieved he came out the sunroof given he was a porker. Pushing him out mooning the world would surely have demolished my nether regions. However, recovering from major surgery, having a baby in Special Care (jaundice), knowing I eventually had to go home to a toddler with a new baby, prohibited from driving, lifting and all round energy expending was daunting enough. Add a midwife who reprimands me for awkwardly handling the baby while trying to do an initial breastfeed and let those floodgates open. She huffed in complete impatience: “C’mon, you should know better being a second time mum”. I may have been a second time mother, but I’d never had THIS baby before. He was his own little being and not quite a replica of the first edition. Shock horror, I had to make some adjustments, which needed a little TLC and guidance rather than SOL and abuse.
Oh yeah, deduct sleep while you’re at it so I’m left with no possible ability to reason that maybe she was just having a bad day. And to be honest, I didn’t care about her day.
Blaming "new mother hormones" and sleep deprivation is one way for narky midwives to admonish any responsibility for their actions. What they conveniently forget is that the confidence of a new mother usually starts at zero. We’ve never done this baby thing before and no matter how brilliant we were at our jobs prior to babies, the prospect of being responsible for someone else for the next 20 years is no easy feat to digest. Sometimes, the notion of surviving the night is monumental in itself.
I used to work in HR and am well aware people have snapping points and testy moments. In the health sector, particularly maternity wards, I just don’t think you can afford the luxury of having a public bad day. Maybe this is unreasonable and if you are a nurse, you can certainly shed some light on everything that goes on behind the scenes: difficult shift schedules; staff and bed shortages; administrative and financial woes. But as a patient, I’m inclined to say, suck it up. Not. My. Problem. My problem is how the hell am I going to change this black poo that has seeped all the way through this jumpsuit? And what on earth has that baby done to my nipples? How will I know what to do when I get home?
These are new mothers. They are vulnerable and need support, help, understanding, and chocolate. Sure, they’re annoying and frustrating at times, what with all those questions, random tears and nervous tension but there is no room for curtness. If a midwife is having a bad day I think they should take it outside. Soak up some sun, or some rain, or some passive smoke, whatever is needed to be reminded that these are women who are often operating on the edge of emotions or at very least, lacking confidence. One brash word may stay with that mother for a long time. Possibly she’ll throw in the towel on breastfeeding because she was scolded for her technique. Maybe her concerns about her baby’s temperature were hurriedly dismissed as nothing and she had to return to hospital later with an unwell baby.
I applaud the amazing midwives and nurses for the noble job they do. They really carry the load and often make up for the not-so-nurturing carers. As for the grouchy ones? Consider a career change – prison warden, perhaps?
Has a midwife (or maternal & child health nurse) ever made you cry? Are you a midwife/MCHN who has seen a colleague upset a new mum? Alternatively, have you had a brilliant midwife who you will always remember? Discuss Kylie Orr's blog.
