17/11/2023
When people find out what i do for a living they always talk about “the babies” how much they LOVE the babies and I always think…babies are 2% of what I do. 98% is mothers, growing and nurturing new mothers.
But there is a 1% that we don’t really talk about much either.
The 1% is where everything goes quiet, your focus goes laser sharp. The birthing room stops being the mothers nest and starts being mine to manage. Pretty much all sound except for what you are focusing on sucks out of the room along with the air and there is a split second moment where everyone in the room freezes and looks at YOU because you are it…. the full stop, the wall, the end game and what are YOU going to do. Your brain is scrolling through all 543,527,768 scenarios you’ve experienced, learned about, studied or heard about in passing conversations while it looks for the ONE it will settle on and in that SPLIT SECOND it took to scroll, you breathe, come alive and say “call 9-1-1”.
And then instantly the gravitational pull of silence is broken, the room explodes in a flurry of sound and light and movement. But you, YOU, have to pull your s**t together, make the call, sound coherent, professional, calm and detached, give pertinent information & facts only leaving out her dreams and hopes for this birth, patiently tell a 9-1-1 dispatcher you are a trained professional with all the equipment you need and you dont need a shoestring and a safety pin ( and WTH do you need a safety pin for anyway? I digress) or info on how to deliver a baby from a laminated cheat sheet and you wait for the entrance of paramedics while monitoring, assessing or managing the life threatening complication and you pray for the mother and the baby and that the EMS team isnt an ego fueled s**t show. Because, lets be honest, in every profession there is always the one who makes everyone look bad, even in mine.
Your assist is calling out times or heart rates or med administration and somehow you are taking it all in while working as a team to keep everyone safe and concisely communicating, in your strong but calm voice , everything that is happening to the mother and then you hand them off and say another prayer because most of the time we aren’t allowed in the ambulance even though we are the most skilled person in attendance to continue management of the complication. And then, you make the second call to the receiving hospital, to give another report, to answer questions and get them ready and prepare records and send them off to meet the mother at the hospital and then …. follow along knowing the postpartum is going to be rough with an unplanned, truly emergency cesarean for a sweet first time mom and that she’s going to need a lot of space to process what happened to her.
The 99% of my job is amazing, triumphant, sweet daddy catches & precious memories.
But the 1% is midwifery, too.