NQM – Setting the scene for my future self
(January 2016)
It take three years of fulltime study, combining theory with practice, (and a whole heap of blood, sweat and tears) to become a qualified and registered midwife. The question I have repeatedly asked myself, since donning my navy blue ‘Midwife’ polo shirt for the first time, is whether those three years adequately prepare you for the emotional and physical onslaught that being a newly qualified midwife is.
Two months in and my answer to this is yes and no.
My “yes” has me visiting some basic truths – I qualified as a midwife and as such I feel able to competently support a woman through her pregnancy, birth and postnatal period. I know what is normal and I know who to speak to when it becomes… not normal. I know I am not alone and that senior midwives come out of the woodwork when I ask for help. I know these things in my head… and occasionally in my heart. In my heart I love midwifery and this is what keeps me pressing through my “no”.
My “no” is what has me feeling sick as I walk through the doors of labour ward, or when I’m asked to collect a woman from triage. The continual “what if’s” which fly around my mind. What if I miss something? What if I forget something? What if I do something wrong? What if I do too much? What if I let her down? What if ‘that’ happens? What if ‘this’ happens? What if no-one comes when I need them? What if the other midwives think I’m rubbish? What if I AM rubbish? Because the ‘what if’s’ in midwifery aren’t inconsequential, if I do miss something then something bad could actually happen.
I have generally felt care planning to be a great rational way of navigating in my work but I had underestimated the weight of responsibility of my own professional PIN and the tension and worry that it would bring. This is not to say I didn’t have a clear understanding of what that responsibility meant but it is definitely something that you cannot be truly prepared for – you have to live it to know it. These ‘what if’s’ keep me up at night both before and after shifts without the fall back of knowing that my mentor would pick up anything I missed.
It has been a revelation to truly realise all those little things that your mentors do for you, even when they are letting you ‘do it all today’. Simple things like opening delivery packs and handing you a cord clamp and talking you through the next steps as things change… through to the magical appearance of various trolleys and equipment as things during labour start to deviate off the familiar track.
It is apparent to me though, as a reflective practitioner, that the ‘what if’s’ could very easily become the sum of my experience as a midwife. That I could allow them to overwhelm my ‘yes’ and my ‘heart’ and I will end up a fearful and defensive midwife, undoubtedly on a sure path to burn out. This is not to say that I don’t think a certain amount of fear is healthy – but how I approach fear is important and what it does to me must be my own choice.
This is of course only my first year and you don’t have to go far to hear accounts like mine and of newly qualified midwives wondering if it was all a big mistake and perhaps stacking shelves might be a good idea afterall… and then you hear of them coming through and enjoying midwifery again.
So I know I am in the thick of it but I really don’t want to hate my first year… This is my opportunity to set the scene for my career so call it a resolution if you like, but this year I chose to love midwifery, to hold onto the wonderful moments and use them as momentum through the scary and fearful times, to be open to learning, to be kind and loving to my fellow midwives and wider team and so build the foundation of the midwife I want to become.
Two months in and my answer to this is yes and no.
My “yes” has me visiting some basic truths – I qualified as a midwife and as such I feel able to competently support a woman through her pregnancy, birth and postnatal period. I know what is normal and I know who to speak to when it becomes… not normal. I know I am not alone and that senior midwives come out of the woodwork when I ask for help. I know these things in my head… and occasionally in my heart. In my heart I love midwifery and this is what keeps me pressing through my “no”.
My “no” is what has me feeling sick as I walk through the doors of labour ward, or when I’m asked to collect a woman from triage. The continual “what if’s” which fly around my mind. What if I miss something? What if I forget something? What if I do something wrong? What if I do too much? What if I let her down? What if ‘that’ happens? What if ‘this’ happens? What if no-one comes when I need them? What if the other midwives think I’m rubbish? What if I AM rubbish? Because the ‘what if’s’ in midwifery aren’t inconsequential, if I do miss something then something bad could actually happen.
I have generally felt care planning to be a great rational way of navigating in my work but I had underestimated the weight of responsibility of my own professional PIN and the tension and worry that it would bring. This is not to say I didn’t have a clear understanding of what that responsibility meant but it is definitely something that you cannot be truly prepared for – you have to live it to know it. These ‘what if’s’ keep me up at night both before and after shifts without the fall back of knowing that my mentor would pick up anything I missed.
It has been a revelation to truly realise all those little things that your mentors do for you, even when they are letting you ‘do it all today’. Simple things like opening delivery packs and handing you a cord clamp and talking you through the next steps as things change… through to the magical appearance of various trolleys and equipment as things during labour start to deviate off the familiar track.
It is apparent to me though, as a reflective practitioner, that the ‘what if’s’ could very easily become the sum of my experience as a midwife. That I could allow them to overwhelm my ‘yes’ and my ‘heart’ and I will end up a fearful and defensive midwife, undoubtedly on a sure path to burn out. This is not to say that I don’t think a certain amount of fear is healthy – but how I approach fear is important and what it does to me must be my own choice.
This is of course only my first year and you don’t have to go far to hear accounts like mine and of newly qualified midwives wondering if it was all a big mistake and perhaps stacking shelves might be a good idea afterall… and then you hear of them coming through and enjoying midwifery again.
So I know I am in the thick of it but I really don’t want to hate my first year… This is my opportunity to set the scene for my career so call it a resolution if you like, but this year I chose to love midwifery, to hold onto the wonderful moments and use them as momentum through the scary and fearful times, to be open to learning, to be kind and loving to my fellow midwives and wider team and so build the foundation of the midwife I want to become.
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