When you say you are a Midwife

It’s a networking event. And not just any networking event. There is a real emphasis and focus on wellness, holistic health, and a vulnerable admission of the need for real community and connection.

Women who have been burnt out in the corporate world bravely stepping into passion projects, and a genuine sense of kindness and of really seeking to live a life that makes a difference is felt in the room.

People are eager to chat and share and seem really open.

So it seems like the perfect place to show up. To share. To speak about where I want to make a difference in the world.

However I am not talking about fitness, skin care, getting organised, neurodiversity, perimenopause, marketing tips, art, food, crystals, or any of the other niche’s celebrated in this environment.

I’m talking about Birth.

It’s my turn to speak.

I take a deep breathe, smile, encouraged by the positivity in the room and I say:

“I’m a Midwife”

I share my passion for supporting women in pregnancy and birth in what I believe to be a warm, open, way, acknowledging the complexities and nuances of giving birth, and how it is a personal experience for everyone.

I talk about how I help women navigate the current maternity system as well as support women who are looking to go private or not engage at all.

I talk about how I help women understand birth in the context and through the lens of their own personality and lived experiences.

I talk about how I don’t promote any specific method or dogma or technique, but instead offer a space that really helps women get clear on what they want for their birth, alongside inside knowledge of the system on how to make that a reality.

Although I feel passionate, I am always careful to not come across as arrogant, aspirational, or insensitive to what can be an emotionally triggering topic for women.

Halfway through my spiel,

I can tangibly feel the energy shift in the room.

It is like a giant curtain is slowly closing around me. Tumbleweed. Crickets. However you describe that energy.

I finish my allocated minute, and there is a brief acknowledgment. It is a kind space after all. Yet afterwards I strangely feel, uncomfortable. I notice a few polite smiles. Maybe someone says “I’m past that stage now thank God”, but mostly it just feels like an uncomfortable.

Have I said the wrong thing?

I consider the demographic. Sure. Most of the women do seem to be in that season of life where they have “done the baby thing” and are finally now creating space for self care, and making the bold moves to create something other than babies. That is absolutely fair enough. There are also young women in the group that would not clock the importance or significance of birth work until it is physically happening to them, and often even by then, it is too late.

The most positive feedback I get is from some women who will sigh and say “I wish I had known of someone like you when I was pregnant”. So this tells me, I am on to something. Yet I come away from these events feeling unseen, and with a banging vulnerability hangover.

I know, I know, these events are rarely about recruiting clients directly, and more about raising awareness of your services and who you are. I appreciate the need to keep turning up. To keep talking about it, and to keep on going even when it feels like resounding crickets after you have vulnerably shared.

Yet I just can’t shake the feeling though that there is something else going on underneath the surface.

Maybe it was that one time I ventured out one morning to what was more of a traditional small town business networking breakfast and after my opportunity to share, I noticed it was the men who warmly chatted with me afterwards, recounting their memories of their own experiences with midwives as their children were born while also offering practical support and advice for my actual business.

Are a large proportion of women triggered by my work?

If statistics and research are correct regarding birth trauma, then sadly, the answer is…probably.

Even if I have worked hard to curate my message to encompass the wide variety of women’s personal experiences, to ensure I do not come across too “aspirational” or promoting of any sort of unhelpful dogma about the “right” kind of birth? It doesn’t matter. My business, my message, is hitting a nerve.

I am not giving up. I will continue to attend these events. I will continue to create content, design workshops, and offer bespoke personalised non clinical care to women who are seeking it, so one day, after they have had their babies, and find themselves attending a networking event for women, they will come up to someone like me and say “Yes! it is so important what you are doing and I will recommend you to anyone I know who is pregnant! I used a smilier service when I was pregnant and it made all the difference”.

Breaking the cycle of trauma was never going to be easy, but it is the biggest “why” behind why I do what I do.