Everyone has that difficult second album

Or year.

There’s a saying that drifts around about the second year of the course – if you haven’t had a nervous breakdown, you might not be doing it right.

Well I had mine, epic proportions, I forgot how to midwife, god damn it, I forgot how to adult. It might, however be changing. After a massive crisis of confidence, those who know better than you will help you get back up and carry on.

My cohort is made up of incredible women, led by incredible women (and a chap!), working with incredible women, and caring for some absolute rockstars. I mentioned in a previous post that it was the words of women I was caring for that really bolstered my confidence, well it all came tumbling down a little after that again…but hopefully it’s on its way back.

You see, part of our course is the “School” bit – and that means exams. Good. We SHOULD have exams, we should be tested on what we know. I don’t worry a huge amount about exams, but these are so important, that it would be glib of me to not worry at all.

At uni we have a facility for practical assessments and training – much like wards and hospital bays, a birthing room…we’re really lucky. We also have a day of inter professional working with some medical students from a nearby uni. The morning consists of theory, recapping the things that we have learnt in theory, ready for the four station practical session in the afternoon.

I really enjoyed most of this, my colleagues were confident, swift and informative – we were going great guns…until it got to me to lead and suddenly I had no clue what I was doing, I felt like I’d just turned up off the street and was some sort of imposter. Actually, an imposter might have done a better job. It really affected the flow of what was happening with our team and I felt like I’d massively let everyone down. Even though the feedback we all had after that scenario (maternal collapse) was that I had done the right thing, and that I had just needed to rationale why I was doing those things) I still felt absolutely crap. I messaged my friend to apologise for being such a moron and she said not to be so daft, nice words, it was nice…couldn’t shake the feeling.

Went back into placement the next day and I might as well have been a GCSE work experience person – I felt like I knew nothing I didn’t know what order everything had to be in, I was a mess, and it got harder to shake. The women I was caring for were still lovely, and grateful, but I found myself gabbling, talking too much (as per usual) and I think I was almost seeking out their approval through informing them, and being nice.

In reality, what I Was doing was chatting for too long – about relevant things, but still, too much information; this impacted my list of tasks and had a knock on effect. I didn’t realise this until my tutor arrived to do my mid point, tripartite assessment and my mentor fed it back in a very positive way, and I realised that by oversharing my time with some women, others may have felt neglected.

So it’s about drawing the line, being kind in gestures, but for those gestures to be useful to both the woman and the management of all the other things that need to be done. I have to learn this quick smart. I go back later in the year to that placement, and it will be completely on me if I don’t take that to heart and do something positive about it.

Even this post is now a bajillion words long!

I’ll let you catch up and carry on pretending that I’m a comic book anti-hero (that’s a long story…we’ll get to that another time)


One comment

  1. emmacourt · May 22, 2015

    Reblogged this on emmacourt.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s