The worst blogger...

No, I didn't get sucked into that strangers vagina, in case you're wondering. I'm just rubbish. Begin stuff with the best of intentions, then wander off to catch the last ten minutes of Corrie and realise with a start I haven't moved for four hours, that's me. Only in the case of this blog, it was four months.

Whatevs, people. Bygones and all that. Let's start again. Give me another chance.

In Midwifettes little world, things weren't going brilliantly. I spent seven weeks all told on the community. Did I see a birth? No I did not. I almost did (the only births you'd get to see on community would be home births), but I only got there in time for the emergence of the placenta. The placenta looks an awful lot like a pigs liver that has come alive, mated with some cellophane and cauliflower, gone on a gap year round the world trip where it took too many drugs, decided to go sky diving and forgot to open its parachute. I mean, it's interesting and all, but it's not quite the joyful miracle of a babys birth.

So, I faffed around at Uni for a bit, learning and crap, and now I'm back on placement - on labour ward. If I can't see a birth on labour ward... well, you get the idea. I'll be wrathful. And when I'm wrathful I don't look completely unlike a placenta.

I'm looking forward to it in more ways that I can number. I've done six months theory, I've poked and prodded pregnant women until my hands felt sore, I've helped women breastfeed, I've helped them bottlefeed, I've examined their stitches, I've weighed their babies. I just haven't seen a bloody birth (and it will be bloody). I'm psyched, I'm ready... bring it on!!