At a time when many midwives and parents are feeling disillusioned with the current state of maternity services due to shortages and cuts, Ben Wakeling offers his positive ‘Dad spin’ on why midwives make such a difference.

“Come on, breathe,” said the midwife. “That’s it…deep breaths. Do you want some pain relief?”

I remember it well. My wife was eight centimetres dilated during childbirth with our second baby, and was coping well. I, on the other hand, was lying on the floor, legs up on a chair, and being reassured by a rather bewildered midwife.

I eyed my wife’s gas and air out of the corner of my eye as I huffed into a brown paper bag, running through the moral implications of snatching it off her. After a while I relaxed, and the midwife could go back to delivering my child. (A few minutes later I stood up, puked on my shoes and passed out.)

OK, so none of that happened. I was actually rather calm during the birth of both my children, so much so that to the untrained eye I looked as if I actually wasn’t that bothered that a new life was coming into the world. I was, of course, but I’m just laid back like that.

What’s the point of that bout of verbal diarrhoea? Well, it has recently been reported that there is a shortage of midwives in some parts of England. This is a real shame. It’s one of those professions that cannot be replaced. Midwives offer that comforting aura, that reassuring touch that some doctors struggle to convey easily.

And the midwife’s assistance and help isn’t limited to the mum, although obviously she gets most of the attention. They’re also there to help us dads as well, who more often than not are sat in the corner wondering what the hell is going on, and why our partners are making that weird grunting/yelling/roaring sound.

They can tell us what to do, where to go, how we can help. They answer questions, and help put our minds at ease. I remember my wife being in the throes of childbirth, and the midwife called one of her colleagues in and said quietly, “Cephalic presentation.”

Not being a medical chap, I instantly took those hushed words to mean something was wrong, and I was all for leaping over my wife’s bed to bash the alarm button on the wall. “What does that mean?!” I squealed, in a tone rather more feminine than I would have liked. The midwife looked at me.

“It means the head is coming down.” she said, in a very unpatronising way, thankfully. Without her quick response to my panic, I’d have had most of the staff on the labour ward crashing through the doors, only to find out that actually everything was fine and my baby was coming down head-first.

We have had two children, and in both instances the midwives have been wonderful; so much so that my wife has taken the decision to train as a midwife once the kids are at school. Hopefully she will be one of many, and we can keep this vital profession going well into the future. Otherwise, the labour wards will be littered with panicking or unconscious fathers.

Image credited to Getty Images

How do you feel about our maternity services, did you have a positive experience or do you think the cuts are causing risk to maternity care?

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