When I had my first child, I unexpectedly went into labor on Christmas Eve, (a little over three weeks before my due date). And that’s when I met Maureen, my assigned midwife. At a guess, Maureen was 15 years older than me. She had short blonde hair and wore royal blue scrubs and a friendly smile. I found her Santa hat and flashing Christmas earrings a little disconcerting, but I liked her immediately.
“Finally, a moment came where I felt like I couldn’t go on or cope any longer.”
Midwives’ jobs are many—and in Australia, where I live, midwives are always a part of the birthing staff in the hospital, along with an obstetrician. They undertake numerous medical and patient care duties. Midwives examine, assess, monitor, test, advise—all necessary and important responsibilities. But they also provide a deep level of emotional support and practical guidance during labor, much like a doula does in other parts of the world. In my case, Maureen moved from stranger to trusted support person in a flash.
My partner and I were nervous but excited, unsure but hopeful. Without being pushy or falsely familiar, Maureen cultivated a sense of trust. I used a gym ball during much of my labor to help manage the pain of my contractions. Between some of the contractions, we’d chat. It was like having a cup of tea with a friend, except it was 3 a.m. and I was partially naked and leaking fluid.
As my labor intensified, Maureen’s approach shifted to match. She moved into more of a coaching mode. She’d offer gentle guidance like “Would like to try this?,” “Why don’t we dim these lights a little more,” and “Try resting completely between contractions.” You could tell she had a deep pool of acquired birthing wisdom to draw on. Not the stuff of medical textbooks or patient care models—she understood and respected the birth process and the capabilities of women’s bodies. She also knew how to be present and simultaneously give enough space—a tricky feat.
Finally, a moment came where I felt like I couldn’t go on or cope any longer. I suddenly felt out of control, my rational mind left me, and everything felt strange and primal. Maureen took swift action; she moved me into a position ready for birth and called the obstetrician. She knew I was in transition. I met my sweet Christmas baby 45 minutes later.
The thing is, up until the moment I arrived at the hospital, the role and contribution of a midwife weren’t really on my radar. During my pregnancy, I’d been a diligent student: I went to prenatal classes, read books and fact sheets, and talked to my doctor. I “understood” the basic mechanics of the birth process and gathered information about birth techniques, medical options, potential risks, and interventions. I had some sense of my preferences, but I didn’t “get it.” How was I actually going to give birth? How could a healthy baby possibly emerge from my body and both of us be OK?
It turned out I’d somehow overlooked just how integral midwives can be in supporting you during birth—a vital lesson I learned with Maureen by my side. Aside from medical due diligence, what did she bring to my birth process? So much. Birth wisdom, care, compassion, reassurance, and practical guidance. She fostered an environment that was conducive to a positive birth experience. And she bore witness to a wondrous event — the safe arrival of a tiny human and the making of two brand-new parents. It’s difficult to say for sure, but I think if Maureen hadn’t been in the birth suite with me during labor, my experience would have been vastly different—she directly contributed to my positive experience.
I regret that I didn’t connect to a midwife before my birth. My chosen care model wasn’t geared that way, and at the time I didn’t understand the implications. I underestimated (or failed to consider fully) the power of midwives, but their depth of understanding and experience is invaluable.