Go Midwives!

Speaking of velvet, I’m still undecided about whether I should replace the 3 chocolates that were included in Sara Wickham's velvet vagina pack. I ordered the pack for my cousin. I was so excited when she told me that she is applying to study midwifery. What a vocation! To be with women (and possibly their families) as new life is welcomed into the world. What an absolute honour to be one of the first people to witness a being entering, for the first time, the world that it could once only perceive through sound, movement and taste. Once out of its mother’s womb that baby will, in most cases, open its eyes, and be informed by the level of light around it, take its first breaths, smell different scents, perceive the change in temperature. So much will be going on for that baby and you get to be in the room. Yes of course, you’ll be mainly focused on vital signs of health, but you’ll also be able to soak up all that newness and specialness! As for the mother who carried the baby (or babies!) all those precious weeks, what an experience to share with her. The flood of emotions for every and any baby, but especially that first baby. It is heart-stoppingly special. And, as a midwife, my cousin will, hopefully, get to share in that oxytocin-high over and over again. 

Ok look, I’m not naive; I know some births can be tricky and sometimes the tears that flow in the room are not just tears of joy. I remember those tears of deep heartbreak, shock and disappointment that I shed intermittently for the first 48 hours after my emergency caesarean section. But I also remember staring at my baby in awe and being so reliant on the midwives who were around to put me at ease as I analysed every single thing I and baby did in those first few days. I still smile when I think back to how grateful I was to be shown the rugby hold way of breastfeeding my baby. As the midwife demonstrated a switch came on in the mental room dedicated to the concept new born babies are more robust than you think. Though I was not sure if I would definitely use the rugby hold - and I later came to realise that it might be better suited to people with a different body shape than mine - I lit up to the fact that there were so many options, even when it came to the simple matter of breastfeeding my baby. She also kicked off the invaluable information that I need to be comfortable to breastfeed, as she so expertly tucked cushions behind and under my arm.

But even before my first baby was born, I was grateful to a certain midwife, Anna. She had seen that my birth was not going as planned, and militantly staked out the rooms every so often until another one became available. She had read that I wanted to move, and could see the space I was labouring in was not big enough. She read that I wanted to play, out loud, the affirmation tracks that I had downloaded, so I needed privacy.  When I, my husband and mum entered the new room, the layout she had created and the level of light was just perfectly aligned with my birth plan. 

But, despite her loving efforts, all that was not enough.  When the time came to tell me my time was up and it was apparently safer to have a caesarean section, she spoke to me with a level of compassion that almost brings me to tears 9 years after the event. “I know the kind of birth you wanted. I wanted that too. It’s ok though. You have done an amazing job. We can try for one more hour but if things don’t progress, I’m so sorry but it will be so much safer for you to have a caesarean section.” In that moment it’s as if my whole body fully surrendered and everything poured out (not just tears! I’ll reserve the rest in case you are having tea and biscuits while reading this.) There was something about the way she apologised that made me understand this was not her choice for me. There was something about the system. The pressure of time had been there since the moment I entered the hospital. But you don’t know what you don’t know. At the time I had no idea that me going into hospital at that earlier point in my labour, was likely to be one of the biggest contributing factors of me having a caesarean section.

The key thing is I will never forget how that midwife made me feel. I will never forget that she showed me a level of respect that two other midwives before her had not shown me. She didn’t seem like the kind that would say she was going to just “check” me, then proceed to do something that was so painful, I only later realised I must have had a sweep that I had not consented to (no wonder I was even more tense from that moment on). She certainly wasn’t the type that would walk into my birthing space, and be visibly unimpressed at the dimmed lights and basically man-handle me until I snapped at her to leave me alone (that fight-mode was incredibly counterproductive to my labour). When Anna saved me from that midwife it was in some ways perfect timing, but in the end, probably a bit too late.

I can’t help but wonder if my birth would have turned out differently if Anna had been my midwife from the moment we walked into the hospital. In my fantastical reimagining of my first birth I have continuity of care with Anna and even if I had never met her during my antenatal appointments, the way she showed up as the person by my side, rather than the person that was superior to me, immediately helped shed my defences. That’s the kind of midwife that I pray my cousin will be. I don’t see her often enough to know her as well as I want to (the realities of me having two babies, during the time she was transitioning from pre-teenhood to young adult), but I have that hope. When we were in the same space again for the first time in about 5 years I had the audacity to make a request. “Whatever you do, please will you ask to get some experience of a couple of homebirths? Just so your learning experience is as varied as possible?” I didn’t want to say too much in case the scars I have from parts of my hospital births became visible. Instead I wanted to sustain both our excitement and focus on how hopeful I was that she would be a stand-out midwife, with experience that was truly varied.

During my third pregnancy, after executing my right to be with the homebirth team, regardless of my two previous caesareans, I had time to chat with the midwives in the more relaxed environment of my living room and the room in my local children’s centre. Some had been part of the homebirth team for over 10 years. The team seemed a bit cliquey, but in a good way, if that’s possible. Almost like they were each other’s second family. There were things about being in a homebirth team that seemed to be more rewarding than being a labour ward midwife... or maybe just more suited to people who wanted more autonomy. I was told that covering for a fellow homebirth midwife if she had an emergency was a pleasure, compared to covering for midwives in the more intense environment of the hospital. It reminded me of what a non-homebirth midwife had said on a podcast; there is a level of flexibility and power for the homebirth midwife which does not easily exist for the labour ward midwife, who, at any point, can be frustratingly overridden by a doctor who has not spent as much time with the woman, working out how to make even some elements of her birth plan come to life. Everyone wants a live baby, but, at least up until the time I had my hospital birth experiences, great midwives want that live baby to be born to a mother who feels even more alive as a result of how positive her birth was. So go you, midwives who perform their roles with compassion, emotional intelligence and balance (of safety for everyone and empowerment for the birther).

So anyway what else is in the pack for my midwife-to-be cousin from Sara Wickham, other than a velvet vagina? It includes two postcard-sized information leaflets, a purse, and a book with a handwritten note from Sara to my cousin. 101 Tips for Planning, Writing and Surviving Your Dissertation, by Sara Wickham. And I have to admit … what will not be in the pack are three fun-size chocolates. Don’t tell my cousin, ok? Instead, if you ever come across a midwife called Esther... Maybe give her some chocolates as a thank you for choosing a career that can positively touch the lives of so many people.