To be a midwife is to be ‘with women’,
And helping them prepare for their tiny little human,
It’s making sure baby’s growing by measuring the bump,
It’s listening to the heart rate, there’s nothing like that little thump.
It’s discussing fetal movements, they’re the most important sign,
It’s reassuring an anxious mum that everything is fine,
It’s running antenatal classes, so parents know what to expect,
But no matter how much you know there’s lessons to be learned in retrospect.
it’s a sudden gush of water, spew and mucous plugs,
It’s women demanding that we get her bloody drugs,
It’s dimmed lighting and relaxation that often does the trick,
It’s sometimes ladies screaming that their husband is a pr*ck.
It’s running round for twelve-hour shifts and the smelly feet,
It’s knowing slimming world won’t approve of all the sweets you eat,
Its putting dad at ease when the baby comes,
it’s watching the magical moment when women become mums.
It’s observing and applauding when everything goes right,
It’s helping women feed in the middle of the night,
It’s supporting parents in their decision for bottle or for breast,
Either way is okay, a happy mum and baby’s best.
It’s being a good listener, or laughing over a cup of tea,
It’s empowering women and measuring bedpans full of pee,
It’s sharing information and putting up IV drips,
It’s the sweeps to bring on labour, with your magic fingertips.
It’s reviewing ctg traces, sometimes trace after trace,
It’s transfers round to labour ward, running at some pace,
It’s staying calm and collected when things don’t go to plan,
And when mums start to doubt themselves it’s telling them ‘you can’.
But sadly it’s not every day things go hunky dory,
If only every day we walked away with a happy story,
But not all births are happy, some angel babies we will mourn,
Their tiny little footprints leave a big impact when they’re born.
It’s the never-ending learning, something new in every day,
Its the stressful shift and the days you swear your hairs are turning grey,
It’s working as a team, things go smoother when you do,
It’s skipping breaks to get work done but squeezing time in for a brew.
It’s hearing the same questions, like ‘when baby comes will I poo?’
It’s the bladder damage because you can’t get to the loo,
It’s buzzers going off left, right and centre,
It’s working with students and trying your best to be a mentor.
It’s walking out the ward an hour later than you should,
It’s going home to your flatmate who gets the brunt of your bad mood,
It’s the food filled tea trolleys whilst everyone else is in their bed,
And when you do get to bed, its jobs still running through your head,
Did I document that on badger? Did I do all that I could,
It’s your colleagues reassuring you not to worry ‘it’s all good’.
It’s not mentioning the ‘Q’ word, you just enjoy it whilst it lasts,
It’s booking annual leave when you see a full moon is forecast,
It’s the shambles of a handover after the most chaotic day,
But it’s rewarding and fulfilling in every single way.
It is loving our job for all the good and the bad,
To be a midwife, we must be bloody mad!
This poem makes it sound like we’re all a bunch of crazies,
But you have to be,
because being a midwife is more than just delivering babies. 
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