You have much to learn, Grasshopper

In the few short weeks since I started school I find myself returning to a comment which my Dad made to me as I was completing high school and looking toward starting College: "It might feel like you are finishing, but in reality you are just starting." For a long time getting into Midwifery School was my goal. I'm here now, I now find myself a “baby midwife”. I’m tiny, I know next to nothing. I’m reminded of just how scary school must seem to a pre-schooler. If I’d had any concept of how much information I’d assimilate during my school years I’d have been even more frightened. This time around I do have a feel for the sheer size and scope of the undertaking of becoming a midwife.

Honestly? I’m terrified. I’m ever more aware of the daunting academic workload. Did I mention I have a shitload of work to do?? I’m aware that I’ll no longer be able to just “slide by” on those bits which don’t really interest me but actually have to learn and be able to apply, because every piece is important in the big picture. I’m newly aware of the power of the “baggage” which I carry into this endeavour, that we all do, be it from our own birth experiences good and bad or other difficult/traumatic events which silently shape our thoughts and movements. I’m challenged now to stop and “unpack” my baggage. I must sort through it to find those pieces which will “fit” and further and improve my journey and to set down and walk away from pieces which might inhibit or damage my potential. I’m struck by the level of commitment a good midwife must offer other souls, commitment which I must muster along the way, and by the huge responsibilities which ultimately I’ll assume. Those things are vast and extraordinary.

In the midst of the haze of emotional exhaustion during the first onsite someone called it “Bootcamp for midwives. They break you down and then build a midwife”. It’s an interesting analogy because breaking down you would usually think of in a military context usually occurs with violence and insult and abuse. This is more of a deconstruction, a metamorphosis. I feel myself changing dramatically and that can’t help but be hard at times, but this is by choice and it’s welcome and it’s gentle. This is something that I can’t avoid. I could no more stop this journey than stop breathing. I’m ever more conscious of what it means to be “called”. It’s overwhelming and wonderful and scary as Hell. It’s humbling and gratifying and as my friend Kristina would say “Rich and Juicy”.