Staying True to the Path That Calls
In a world steeped in the societal norms and traditional career expectations, finding one’s true calling can be an arduous journey. From the earliest years of education, we’re nudged towards certain professions, guided by the influence of parents, teachers, and the broader structure of our society. But what happens when those paths don't align with our innermost desires and values? In this narrative, we embark on a deeply personal voyage. Grappling with societal expectations, navigating the tumultuous terrain of higher education, and ultimately discovering my true calling amidst the trials and tribulations of pursuing my passion. Through the lens of my experiences in the field of midwifery, we delve into the complexities of self-discovery, the pursuit of authenticity, and the profound impact of societal constructs on individual paths.
As a young girl, I gravitated towards the desire of helping others. Through the societal structures ingrained in us, I was ‘programmed' to believe that I must go to university to obtain a degree first before getting a well-paying and acceptable career. I was persuaded by my father to be a teacher. Yet I did not want to be constrained to a cycle of Monday to Friday 7-3p.m. for the next few decades of my life. I thought about being a doctor, but I wasn’t interested in being a surgeon and being on a high horse, if that makes sense. If it doesn’t, that’s ok. If that triggered you, lean in. I thought about being a social worker or therapist, but there was something there that didn’t align with me. Perhaps it is my belief or perceived experience of working with helplessness souls who tend to come into therapy with unrealistic expectations that they put onto their therapists and not themselves. The notion where they want their therapist to fix them, instantly. And I knew that is not true, even at a young age. It is about taking the lessons and implementing them into your life, not being handed a silver platter.
Then in the tenth grade, I discovered midwifery. This was it! I felt aligned. It was about giving women informed, evidence based choices within the western medical system, birth place options along with postpartum care. It felt whole cycle to me. And that was my calling! I was going to be a midwife in Ontario! At the time, the Midwifery Education Program was and still is an undergraduate degree. Yet, only ninety students were accepted across three universities. (Now, in 2024 it’s only sixty students) I applied, right after high school. Denied. Again during my undergrad in Sexuality, Marriage and Family studies, denied. Then, while I was teaching English abroad, accepted.
I discovered later that this was not the profession I thought it was. My time working through my first undergraduate degree, I worked at a local midwifery practice as an administrative assistant. Even then, I observed the challenges more than the joys. Yet I was on a mission with a radical vision for health care. I continued on with my midwifery education. One and a half years into four, I was a student working alongside midwives in the profession. Catching babies, leading informed discussions, reading lab work, learning venipuncture, IV starts, suturing and emergency skills and managing intimate concerns with trusting clients. What I didn’t expect was the mistreatment, unrealistic pressure, and condescending comments from my preceptors, who were supposed to be professional mentors. Sadly, I wasn’t the only student experiencing this. Some of my dear friends left before graduating because of the unprofessionalism and toxic workplace.
There was a time in my final year, when I was put into a small closet room. It was an office - no window, two chairs and a desk. I was told I was not working hard enough and that I didn’t give enough of myself. What most preceptors choose to ignore, is that the midwifery education program instilled a policy where students were to not ‘work’ more than a set number of births and hours to ensure proper rest and study time. With my strong voice and demeanour, I informed her that I didn’t need to come to more births to support her. I was not getting compensated for my time or energy. To put this into context, there are always two midwives or health care providers present at birth, one for mom and one for babe. In the final year of the program, students are able to be the second attendant. This means that another compensated registered midwife does not have to be present. That fee is usually given to the attending midwife supervising the student and assuming liability. Prior to the end of the semester, my educational tutor mentioned that my birth log had the highest amount compared to the rest of my peers. Yet, I was still reprimanded for speaking my truth, even with facility support. Threats of not passing this placement were verbalized.
A reoccurring theme that I began to witness and experience within this culture. I was labelled as a ‘push back’ from those in partnership. Those partnership egos yearned to be stroked in order to feel power. I didn’t. I know power is within me. Yet, at that time, my mental health struggled. I preserved against this toxic mentorship and I graduated with honours in midwifery. Sadly, what I didn’t know is this was just the beginning, even though I was told it gets better as an autonomous professional. This was not true in my lived experience. I lived my first couple of years as a professional, in bliss of being an independent midwife and providing the care I would love to receive myself.
An important thing to note, to put this more in context, is the component of business management. Midwifery practice groups are partnerships or small businesses, and midwives who are not practice partners/owners are independent contractors to the practice group. Firstly, the education program does not train or educate us on how to run a business or how the funding is allocated. Secondly, associates who are not in partnerships are truly, at its core, not legally independent contractors, rather dependent on the partners of the practice.
In my heart of hearts, I always had a desire to run a business, an organization, or a team. I imagined it would be midwifery. I dreamt about changing this archaic model and strove for a progressive and radical change for women in health care, nationally, if not provincially. So, I began to educate myself on how this profession was funded, the legal definitions of what an independent and dependent contractor entails. Going through three different practice groups, realizing that there was no accountability or system or structure on how and why they managed certain things, created a negative ball of energy in me. I started not to align with this profession. I began to see that it wasn’t about empowering women. Aa a midwife myself, I strove to empower the clients. What I experienced among my midwifery colleagues was a pattern of manipulation and gaslighting behaviour toward one another, which I witnessed and began to notice within myself, revealing a leader I did not want to become. A culture defined recently in a research article states: ‘midwives just have to ‘push through’ and ignore their needs, often at the expense of their mental and physical health.’ The article terms this as midwifery machismo. (1)
This fate was not one I was expecting. I entered a profession to empower women and offer choice, until I realized that I lost my voice in my own profession. I was told to comply, was told to stay silent and 'not rock the boat’. When I decided against that, acting in my own integrity and ethical morality, I was shown the door out of this profession. Three times. In the end, I left a group of women who selected those who remained passive in business decisions, valued nepotism in their administrative staff and partnerships choices regardless of their performance and selfish tactics of prioritizing friendships over progressive change for the profession. The silver lining of this is that I found another community & career that is the opposite of this culture.
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Now, this community alongside other entrepreneurs, this business allows me to speak my truth and empower others to amplify their message. Through this work, I remain deeply connected to the health and wellness industry but in a way that prioritizes true independence. I help other women—and men—launch their own careers by providing coaching, mentoring, and a supportive environment.
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Now, I wouldn’t go back to the front lines. As we conclude this journey alongside this protagonist’s story, we're reminded of the transformative power of self-awareness and resilience in the face of adversity. Despite the challenges and disillusionments encountered along the way, my story serves as a beacon of hope and empowerment. It speaks to the importance of listening to our inner voice, daring to defy convention, and embracing the courage to forge our own paths, even when it means stepping away from the familiar or shall I will say, the box we are groomed to fit in. While my journey may have taken unexpected turns, it ultimately led me to a place of authenticity and purpose, where I can boldly speak my truth and empower others to do the same. In a world often defined by conformity, my story serves as a poignant reminder that true fulfillment lies in embracing our unique passions and staying true to ourselves, no matter where the path may lead.
A version of this article was published in Calla Magazine.