⁣⁣[𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟖] 𝐂𝐨𝐚𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐬

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝟸𝟷-𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 '𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨', 𝘪.𝘦. 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦

I was hanging out with mate of mine who had her 3-year-old on video chat. The kid called me ‘other mother’ which amused me; perhaps he knows something I don’t, or he just likes to have a few women in line to fulfil this role just in case. I am thinking a lot about becoming a parent at the moment. I *think* it’s something I want to do. We’ll see. 

Because I’m thinking about perhaps one day becoming a mother, I am thinking about all the things my female ancestors did not have. The ability to work at something they loved. Tools to fight back on body image. Free time. Security. My ancestors were coal miners and farmers; survivors, basically. That and midwifery has combined to produce uneasiness when I rest or think kindly about the way I look. I am on guard.

My generation, and the next one are fascinated by intergenerational trauma. My brother is a mental health social worker and my sister is a neuroscientist who studies treatment resistent depression. I’ve just got back in touch with a friend from a family I used to be close to from age 5-12, and she and all the siblings have gone into mental health related fields. I’m liking that we have identified we all have work to do.

Perhaps back before we were coal miners and farmers, and capitalism set in, there was more of a space around what women could achieve. When I was researching for my book, I read the terrific 'Supervision of Midwives' by Mavis Kirkham which covered the history of midwifery in the UK. There’s a quote from a midwife’s daughter who said something along the lines of they’d have big midwifery parties every so often, and they were such good friends, the lot of them.

I can feel a more creative way of being in this profession waving at me from the past. I think there might be a different way of being a parent too, something integrated into a community of people who worked together because they were humans and it made sense.

When it comes to my friend’s kid, I’m happy to be his other mother. Same for my nephews. Same for the clients at work, come to that. I have no rose-tinted glasses about the past and how hard things were before feminism and modern medicine but when it comes to intergenerational trauma I wonder if we need to go back to a time before it all occurred. I don’t believe that when we lived in small nomadic groups of humans that eating disorders were a thing. Depression would have been so much less likely. Overwork wouldn’t have been something we all aspired to.

Parenting would be a seismic shift for me. I have seen so many women go through it that I know slowing down and respecting the pace of the process will be the only way of doing things. In midwifery, tapping into this slowness somehow, even with our staffing situation as it is, is the only way I can think of which will truly repair things.

To your needs,

⁣Ellie.⁣

⁣⁣⁣p.s.⁣⁣⁣

⁣⁣⁣In part I'm writing this series to help launch my new book, ‘Becoming a Midwife: A Student’s Guide’. It's out 23/2/23. ⁣⁣

⁣⁣I am bad at getting these up on the website each day I'm writing them, but if you want to get them without delay, subscribe to the midwifediaries.com mailing list.

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