You don’t remember me, but I will never forget you. An angel in the night who ushered us into a quiet room as the nerves and excitement of induction ran rife. A hug for me and a smile for my husband as I shook with anticipation of what was to come.
You were a smile and a tissue bringer when suddenly my husband was sent home to get some sleep.
A helping hand into a warm bath as you carefully and gently rub my back as the pain and the fear intensifies.
A hand to hold as I scream into the night as stomach muscles tighten threateningly, preparing to release my harboured passenger.
A sweetie pincher as you make me laugh through the pain, with the promise that we will all do this together.
A pain relief bringer as you promise that although I am alone in my room I am not alone in my pain.
The bad news bringer that things aren’t going well and it’s too late for pain relief after all.
The emergency button pusher as you rush in the resuscitation team for a lifeless baby.
The silent hug as we all watch and wait for that silence piercing cry.
The tears of joy when it came.
You are so much more than just a midwife. You are all of these things. Even though now you are just a memory, you will forever be etched within it.
If we ever meet again I know you won’t remember me. But, dear midwife, I will never forget you.