Blushing my way around douches to midwifery

Blushing my way through three years of training at St Vincent’s Hospital Darlinghurst to become a male registered nurse (1975 – 1978), swapping douches for less embarrassing male-oriented procedures with female nurses whenever I could, you’d think that I would have known better to go into midwifery at Westmead Hospital, Sydney, Australia in 1980.

With the wife and I both nursing there for only a short time, I decided to try my hand at midwifery because it was the traditional thing way back then to combine this course with general nursing, as both went hand in hand if you wanted to get anywhere.

For the next twelve months I subjected myself to something quite extraordinary even though in the end, I wasn’t cut out to be a midwife. Having flunked the course by a whisker, I moved onto greener pastures.

Delivery, most favoured by me, neonatal intensive care was not far behind. Miracles abounded in both units and I am happy to say not once did I drop my bundle (baby that is).

The most traumatic of times were in the postnatal wards. I had cared for women in the past, but the daunting tasks that lay before me were totally alien to me. Trying to educate English and non-English speaking women on such things as breast feeding while their partners looked on with menacing brooding eyes was certainly challenging to say the least.

Was it my inexperience? Was it because I was a male? Was it my inability to control my blushing? Was it the eyes from both mother and father burning holes in the back of my neck that unsettled me so much? Most times I felt like a Christian about to be eaten by lions!

Heaven knows how the mums felt at the time. But I did try my very best attempting to put them at ease. For example, each shift, ray lamp in hand, my perennial checks were done utilising several towels so as not to reveal too much and in the process saving their modesty as best I could.

I will always cherish the multitude of special moments during my training, especially my first delivery and assisting in the delivery of two of my children at the same hospital.

Now this brings me to another point. Should fathers be allowed in the delivery room? If you asked my wife she’d say, “Why the bloody hell not!”. Having been present for all three of our sons deliveries, my wife wouldn’t have had it any other way. To cut to the chase, if the wife or partner wants the father in, so it should be.

There has been some talk lately here and overseas about this after the media quoted a leading obstetrician as saying “the presence of fathers in the delivery room is not only unnecessary but also hinders labour”. HIs reasons are many which I won’t go into here.

Why not you say?  Well my new acquaintance Ross, a male nurse from Queensland and the author and creator of “Nurse in Australia” writes in depth about this very issue in one of his latest well researched articles titled, “Should fathers be allowed in delivery rooms?”. I ask that you visit his site to take in what he has to say.

For those that have taken the time to visit here and at Ross’s site, whether you’re male or female, we would both like to hear what you have to say regarding this issue. I would also like to hear about your experiences with the male and female nurses that cared for you whilst in hospital having your baby. Father’s comments are also welcomed!

To be continued…