Hard
I think I said that things would start getting better now, famous last words. At the beginning of the week I was on a high. Work was hectic, but I was super-midwife. Two of my patients had both given birth, apparently it was the best experience ever and all the praise was being heaped at my door, I had 'empowered' them. Around I zoomed within my rosy, self-congratulatory glow, the mood was up, nothing was too much, I didn't care how much work there was, I was super-midwife. Yes, everyone was right, I do have the most amazing job.
Thursday, my day-off. The phone rings and it's my manager, immediately I do the inner check, what have I done wrong? Sorry to phone me at home but she needed to speak to me. One of my ladies had just had a stillbirth, completely unexpected, everything absolutely fine right until the end. Long discussion about the events leading up to and following, still in hospital at the moment but going home shortly. Later I phoned them and asked if they wanted me to go round that evening, no, but would I go round the next day. This is when it becomes impossible to remain detatched. As a community midwife you have accompanied them through their pregnancy. Congratulated them the first time you met, sympathised with their morning sickness, listened with them the first time they heard their baby's heartbeat, and smiled at their tears. Joked about how baby was going to be a footballer the way it kicked when you felt their tummy. Initiated them into the joys of labour, birth and parenthood at antenatal classes and once again sympathised when they had backache and heartburn. They've told you their hopes, and fears. The final chapter is supposed to be the congratulations all over again. The welcoming of their new little one into the world, supporting them as they begin their life as parents. Instead I'm going round to visit two completely stunned, disbelieving, devasted parents. When I should be showing them how to wind their baby, we are discussing the funeral. We are sitting reliving the most traumatic day of their lives. They chose to donate baby's heart valves for transplant, I cried because of their bravery, how did they think of others at this time? 'At least we can stop another baby dying, we couldn't help our baby, but we can help another.' All they want from me is one thing, Why? I have no answer, I feel useless. I want to be able to give them an answer and at the moment no one has any answers. The midwives and doctors are all asking the same question. Why?
So now I am no longer super-midwife. I am me.
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(4.12.04 20:16) (MM) |
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(4.12.04 21:07) super-you. |
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(4.12.04 21:26) That brings tears to my eyes - puts life in perspective. |
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(5.12.04 16:46) You are a super midwife. She was just an unlucky Mummy! Think about the hundreds of Mummies and Daddies who have had lovely outcomes because of you! |
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(5.12.04 16:50) awww, of course you are a super midwife, this terribly sad event was definitely out of your control it would have been impossible for you to avoid it. I understand the feeling of anguish, but that it is simply because you are a super midwife! Hugs |
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(5.12.04 19:52) As a midwife I derive a great deal of vicarious pleasure from other people's happiness. Sometimes they attribute their success to me, othertimes I feel I played my part, both contribute to job satisfaction. Then something terrible happens which deviates so far from my usual role that I am only as equiped as anyone else to deal with it, and perhaps less equipped as, within my job, I am used to having some degree of control over childbirth etc. The last couple of days I may have visited this couple as a midwife, but I have felt as useful as sun cream in the fog. Thankyou all for your lovely thoughts. |
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(6.12.04 15:27) Heart breaking. |
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(7.12.04 00:05) MM- the very fact you were there for that couple through such an awful time just proves how much more of a super midwife you are. It is these times that drain us and use all our skills as midwives to the most. Hope you all get through it xxx |
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(7.12.04 13:09) You were there for them whatever the outcome. In my books that makes you a super person as well as super midwife. xx |
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(7.12.04 20:18) how horrid for them and for you, before 1930's I belive that there were no trained midwives and that an auful lot more mothers and babies died. |
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(10.12.04 03:53) Talk about landing with a thud! I used to work as a nurse in Maternity and I know exactly how you feel. It's just not the right outcome is it? It's very hard to deal with,especially as sometimes there just is no answer to the why. You are a super midwife and a super person....haven't met you in person but your words sure tell us your story. |