A unicorn named Oxytocin
Nobody said being a student or becoming a midwife was going to be easy. Three years of sacrifices, tears and gruelling hard work, interspersed with moments of joy, glimmers of hope that make you think that you've at least been treading water.
Before I started my year as an NQM, my expectations were low. I'd made my peace with the fact that I would hate 95% of this year, and would spend the remaining 5% sleeping (hopefully). Every day I come to the conclusion that I haven't got a clue what's going on, and I spend more time than I have wondering who to ask, and generally being my own worst critic. There are, however, numerous benefits to being a qualified midwife rather than a student: a uniform with pockets, access to the useful IT systems that evaded me as a student, a pay cheque, choices about my annual leave, the ability to request shifts, a modicum of autonomy, no essays to write. There are obvious down sides too: paying tax, responsibility, the buck stopping with me. I also miss having a mentor by my side, less for reassurance than for the company. I did also think I'd miss having that one person constantly behind me to give me encouragement and support, but I have absolutely found that support in my colleagues and friends.
I spent a lot of my student days feeling inadequate, wondering whether I would ever feel like I belonged. My cohort bleated about pool births, home births, bundles of joy pressed into waiting arms, and I felt like a petulant child demanding 'When is it my turn?'. I kept hoping for those bursts of oxytocin, I wanted to be floating around on cloud nine with swooning eyes full of the beauty of birth. I had numbers to count, essays to construct, research to de-construct, a household to run, a portfolio to build. How I ever expected to feel those bursts of wonder is beyond me, I was so ridiculously stressed and running on empty that I kept forgetting to enjoy the ride. I was surviving on a careful balance of caffeine and Nytol some weeks, ricocheting perilously between manic and rock bottom. Halfway through my studies, I accepted that I might never have my moment of thinking 'this is it, this is where I'm meant to be' and that I may never get my oxytocin moment.
My first wow moment as a student came not long after me accepting my fate, when my mentor and I walked into a room with a woman labouring in a pool. We were there in the middle of the night to give the weary midwife a break. My mentor approached the woman and made a connection that was palpable within the first sixty seconds of meeting her. She reached out to her in every sense of the phrase and she was present and full of love, and my heart skipped a beat and I was overwhelmed by a rush of oxytocin. That was the moment I saw what kind of midwife I wanted to become and that's the moment I saw how awe-inspiring midwifery could be. I will never forget that scene: a labouring woman being loved and supported so instantly by another woman who had never met her before.
Just as I had wasted some of my time as a student, my first eight weeks as a newly-qualified midwife could have been lost to stress ad self-doubt too. So far, I haven't buckled. I knew this year was going to be hard, and I am exhausted a lot of the time, but I have definitely not spent 95% of my time hating it. I knew I'd have days wondering what I'd done with my life, and that I'd have many moments of uncertainty. I've had countless pep talks with myself along the lines of 'you are absolutely good enough', and 'engage brain', but I'm trying to take the glimmers of hope home with me and not diminish their significance. I'm trying to learn from the bad moments and take home the seemingly small moments along with those whacking great experiences of being knocked off my feet by my friend oxytocin.
In my mind, oxytocin is like a unicorn: illusive, ethereal, earth-shatteringly beautiful, fleeting, fickle, powerful, healing. Oxytocin is becoming my friend. I began this week by facilitating a stunning birth. I was in awe of the woman, and felt a rush of love and pride for her. I revelled in that moment of being the first person to lay my hands on her baby, the privilege of being that person to reunite the woman and her child. That unicorn named Oxytocin was galloping around the room, swooshing its tail at whoever was receptive to it. I was dewy-eyed as the woman latched her baby to her breast, and later I marvelled at the veritable love-in that occurred when the woman was supported by a stunning student midwife, while I was supported by her mentor to suture. Women supporting women in all directions. When I went back into the office, the midwife who had been my second at the birth offered up her hand in a conspiratorial high five. We'd worked together and we'd witnessed a moment of wonder. As I left my shift, the woman enveloped me in a bear hug and thanked me. Needless to say, I felt as though my feet barely touched the ground as I made my way back to my car that night. I was shattered but glowing.
My week has ended in a similar vein. I was left bowled over by just how incredible women are: pregnant women, labouring women, women who have just become mums, women who are midwives, women who are students. I was lucky enough to be supporting a third-year student to facilitate a pool birth at the end of my week. The woman was incredible and the student was incredible, and I told them both that because sometimes you need someone to remind you that you are doing a good job. I was buzzing, and my oxytocin high just got even higher when I ended the same shift supporting a first-year student in one of her first hands on hands births. I supported the student, I was supported by her mentor, and we all supported the woman and her partner. Bliss. We all had a tear in our eyes as she met her baby, and myself and the student floated down the corridor on our way home.
This oxytocin high isn't there all the time, and it definitely doesn't happen every day. This week has also been fraught with tears and sadness, reflection, and frustration at not knowing the answers, but I've been lucky enough to have support from colleagues and friends alike. There's nothing like finishing a twelve-hour clinic day and having dinner cooked for you, and spending the evening belly laughing, waking up the next morning and realising the reason your face hurts is because you laughed so ferociously all night. It has been a tough week and a brilliant week all rolled into one, and I'm not quite ready to let the negative moments steal the thunder of my great moments. There's still plenty of time for awful weeks, so right now I'm going to enjoy the oxytocin.
