Member-only story
Why I Left Midwifery
And what it says about how we devalue women’s health
I came late to midwifery. I was 27, earning 25k British Pounds (about $51,000 by today’s standards) a year as a Personal Assistant to a group of corporate directors, complete with a free gym, nice offices, lovely boss. It wasn’t enough. I had a calling. Possibly a Catholic or middle-daughter thing, I don’t know. I just knew I wanted to help people and midwifery looked like the perfect job.
Women-centred, empowering work and oodles of babies to cuddle. While training, I did a two-week placement on a special care baby unit where my main job was to sit, skin-to-skin cuddling preemie babies in my cleavage—after the two weeks ended, they practically had to escort me off the ward. It was joyous.
I knew instantly at my university interview that this was the career, no the place, for me. Following the interview, I had to return to the office of the midwifery lecturer who had just interviewed me. She was sat at her desk, swinging on her chair, shoes off, chatting animatedly to her colleague who was curled up on the sofa. I’m home, I thought. I want to stay in this world forever.
