Days When I Hate Being a Midwife

It's been one of those days when I hate being a midwife. If I wasn't an adult, I would have jumped up and ran out of the office today and said I wasn't coming back.

Why do mamas who don't have many years left to have a baby and who've tried so hard to get pregnant for years and years and years have to be so bitterly crushed and disappointed... told that the little one growing inside them is no longer alive or growing?

And why do I have to dread answering my phone when I see it's a client... hoping that certainly, certainly nothing ELSE could have gone wrong today?!

And why do I have to hope that this woman's husband isn't abusing her and the kids behind closed doors?

And why does it seem like the whole world of mothers and babies and midwives is falling apart today? {I know it isn't really.}

And why do I have to meet with a doctor who hates midwives' guts and try to convince him that I DO care about these mothers and babies?

And why do liability and legality have to matter when all that should matter is if a mama and her baby get the best care for their situation?

And why did I ever want to do this in the first place??

Because I love them too much not to.

{Sometimes I refrain from signing off professional emails to them as "Love, Mary"}

I guess that's why my clients' awful days leave me heartsick, too.