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Madwife: Worlds Collide When a Midwife and EMT Lock Horns

Featured Author:

Kalshassan

Kalshassan is an EMT in Edinburgh, Scotland. He runs Trauma Queen, a dark, often humorous blog that looks at the cases he face throughout his working day, often with a focus on pediatric emergency medicine, his nursing specialty. Please click here to view his NursingLink profile.

On Monday morning I crashed a woman into our Maternity Unit, she was contracting 1/1, felt the urge to push down, felt like she was going to move her bowels and told me she could feel “The baby moving downwards.”

In other words, aside from “crowning” (baby’s head peeking out and nipping in again) she was about as close to delivering as you can get without actually playing the “One patient in, two patients out” game.

She was charming and lovely, a few years younger than me, completely trusting and accepting of my help. She was also of an Indian family and I was worried that as a man I might not be allowed in the room, let alone to examine her and deliver her baby.

I needn’t have been concerned, when I told her I was “Going to have to have a look” she kicked off the duvet she was huddling under and with no embarrassment or reservations, let me get on with my job.

The journey in was a little intense, lights, sirens and speed along the City Bypass, her mother in law in the jump-seat next to me, I held her hand as she contracted, coached her breathing. On occasion she’d sit bolt upright and rest her head on my shoulder as her belly tightened and flexed under my hand. Every now and again I’d confirm there was no action downstairs and we’d carry on as before.

As I dropped her off with the midwife (who didn’t take a hand over), I said to her “Look, I’m back on shift in 24 hours, can I come and see you and find out how you got on?”

She smiled and agreed.

So today I went up to the Maternity unit and inquired after her.

The midwife glared at me.

“Are you family?” I looked down at my badged chest and Anglo Saxon/Orcadian/Astoundingly Caucasian hands, back at her. “No, I’m asking after my patient.” “Well, visiting hours aren’t until four, so you’ll have to be quick.”

She walked me down a corridor and stopped a dozen paces from the room.

“Stand here, she might be nursing.”

Because, you know, I’m a man, I couldn’t possibly see a woman breastfeeding her baby, especially not a woman whose genitals I had studied in depth just the day before.

She marched into the room and strode back out.

“She’s sleeping.”

That’s fair enough, I’m not enough of a dickhead to wake a woman who’s just had a baby.

“Ok, just let her know I came in and said hello?” “I’ll do that.” “Oh…Boy? Girl? Everyone healthy I assume?” “I can’t discuss that.” “Excuse me?” “Patient confidentiality, I can’t tell you.”

I was too dumbfounded to respond, so walked out of the department.

It’s an unfortunate attitude to come across, especially since I’ve had such great experiences in the past training and learning with the staff of the department, but once again we’re viewed as “the taxi drivers”.

I suppose it must grate a little that we lowly emergency staff are trained and qualified to deliver babies, while midwives study for three years. I’m no midwife, I don’t have their skills, or experience and wouldn’t pretend to do so.

But I do a damn sight more than driving the taxi.

Saying that, the next time I hand a patient over to the unit, I’ll just tell them “I can’t show you my patient report form, I’m afraid, it’s confidential.”

Do you have any interesting childbirth experiences to share? Share your experiences with under members in the related discussion thread.