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Student Midwives Need More Exposure to Continuity

Student Midwives Need More Exposure to Continuity

(I wrote this post for the Continuity Matters campaign being run by the very inspiring Michala Marling–something which is very dear to my heart, and the gold standard for midwifery care.)

What if I told you that there was a new, magic intervention that was guaranteed to lower the rate of epidurals, cesarean births, instrumental deliveries, preterm births, miscarriages and even neonatal deaths? Sounds too good to be true, right? This intervention is so miraculous, though, that not only does it reduce all of those risks above, but it also increases the likelihood of having a normal, uncomplicated vaginal delivery. It even shortens the duration of labour, and women across the board not only feel more positive about their births, but also more satisfied with their care in general. Sounds incredible, right? If you were a pregnant woman, you’d definitely want to make sure that you received this intervention, right? You would be clamouring to get your hands on it!

But here’s the rub—this intervention already exists. It isn’t new—it’s been studied for decades, and all of the evidence is quite clear. It’s even something that the RCM and RCOG both agree on! The magic intervention? Relational continuity with your health care provider during your pregnancy, labour, birth and postnatal period. That’s it. Continuity of care and carer. Meaning that every time you have an antenatal appointment, it’s with the same midwife. When you go into labour, the midwife you know and trust is the one supporting you at your birth, and she continues to care for you during the first several weeks after the delivery as you weather the normal postnatal ups and down during your transformation into a mother. Continuity of care and carer. That’s all we need for better outcomes across the board. That’s the magic bullet.

And women don’t just need this, but midwives need this as well. Study after study has shown that when midwives are able to provide continuity of care to women (known as case-loading midwifery here in the UK), there is less burn-out, more job satisfaction  and more autonomous practice. Continuity of care is the one magic intervention which will improve maternity services across the board, in all areas, for women AND midwives. It really is that simple.

Except that it’s not. Very few NHS trusts provide a case-loading model of care for their maternity services. In fact, unless you’ve hired an independent midwife or a private midwife through a company like Neighborhood Midwives, chances are good you won’t receive continuity of care in your NHS trust. Which means that the majority of women in the UK aren’t receiving this amazing, life-changing, magical intervention. Because of this, increased continuity of care is a priority in both Midwifery 2020 and the Better Births Initiative.

I first experienced continuity of care as a brand new midwife working in Brooklyn with some of New York City’s most vulnerable women who were attending a Medicaid-only public hospital for their care. It wasn’t complete continuity of care and carer, but it was pretty close. In the antenatal clinic, when you did an initial booking visit with a woman, she would then follow-up with you for all of her future visits (assuming she was appropriate for midwifery care; any women in need of obstetrical care were transferred to the obstetrical team). Which meant that as her pregnancy progressed, you really got to know her, even though you only had 15 minutes per visit. In many cases, towards the end of the pregnancy, when you were seeing her on a weekly basis, you knew her so well that you recognised her name on sight, and knew all of her history without needing to consult the notes. You knew her birth plans, her hopes and desires for her birth, as well as her concerns and fears. You often also knew the names of her older children that she always brought with her to the visits, and in many cases, you knew her partner too. You could greet her with a familiar smile, answer her questions, and pick up conversations that you had left off the week before. It also meant that there was time for the relationship to grow and for trust to develop between you. In some situations, this meant that as she got to know you, she would finally feel comfortable enough to confide in you about domestic violence, substance misuse or other issues going on in her pregnancy—things she hadn’t been comfortable discussing at the earlier visits, and things she probably would never have mentioned if she was seeing a different provider for each antenatal appointment.

It wasn’t a perfect system by any means—the visits were still too short, and while there was continuity in the antenatal and postnatal setting, there wasn’t continuity on labour ward, which meant that we worked shifts on labour ward and delivered whoever happened to be in labour that day, rather than being called in for our own clients when they went into labour. However, sometimes, when I was lucky, one of the women I’d cared for in the antenatal clinic would be in labour during my shift, and then I was able to provide her with complete continuity. The look of joy lighting up her face when I would first come into her room as she laboured was always priceless—and it was a look of joy that was always mirrored in my own face as well, since it was an absolute pleasure to be able to care for women that I knew well and had formed a relationship with. In fact, many of my clients would inquire about my schedule during the weeks around their due date, and in some cases would try their best with acupuncture and spicy food and lots of sex to go into labour on the same days as my shifts.

I also had an opportunity to provide complete continuity of care briefly during a 5-month stint as an independent home birth midwife in Brooklyn. I was a younger midwife joining the established practice of an older midwife who had been providing continuity of care on her own for years. Unfortunately, she and I never really gelled as a team and the partnership was very short-lived, but the experience of providing care for women that I had an opportunity to really get to know well during (luxurious!) hour-long antenatal visits at their homes was indelible. As each woman approached her due date, at each visit, there was growing anticipation leading up to the birth, and when the phone call finally came that she was in labour, my first thought was often excitement and joy for her, rather than disappointment that I would have to leave my warm bed or whatever activity I was currently doing. This made the on-call slightly easier to bear, despite the fact that it was pretty brutal (we had to take on six births a month in order to be able to cover our salaries and our indemnity insurance, which, trust me, is A LOT of work in a month). I missed Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year’s that year, and was sometimes away from my 1 year old son for up to 30 hours at a time. It wasn’t sustainable, but the continuity did provide enough joy to almost (almost) balance it out.

I was also lucky enough to be on the receiving end of continuity of care with both of my pregnancies. With my first pregnancy in the States, I knew from the very beginning that I wanted to have a home birth, so this automatically meant that we were going to have to seek out private midwifery services, since home birth is not provided in the US through any hospital-based system. My husband and I interviewed several midwives providing private services and finally settled on a two-midwife team that lived fairly close to us, and who seemed to click with us on every level. Over the course of my pregnancy, my visits were split between the two of them, so that I had an opportunity to get to know both very well, and by the time I went into labour, I felt equally comfortable with both of them. These two midwives took turns with the call, meaning that one of them would always be available by phone at any point in my pregnancy, and while I didn’t have to avail myself of their on-call services much during the pregnancy (except for one really bad case of the flu around 20 wks), it was a tremendous comfort to know that I could speak to my midwives at any point, whenever I felt like I needed them. It was also a tremendous comfort to know that when the big day finally arrived, it would be someone who knew me and my pregnancy well who would be picking up the phone to answer that call. And thank goodness for that! My first labour was a 56 hour marathon, during which time I lost hope on several occasions. However, because I knew and trusted my midwives and had a relationship of trust and respect with them, I believed them when they told me that things WERE progressing, that everything was normal, that we didn’t have to transfer to the hospital (in my labour-haze I had determined that hospital augmentation, or possibly cesarean birth, was the only way I was going to deliver). If I hadn’t known them and trusted them as much as I did, I don’t know that their words would have carried as much weight with me at a time when I was seriously doubting my ability to give birth. And lo and behold, they were right: 56 hours later, I did indeed give birth in my living room, surrounded by this loving circle of support!

With my second pregnancy, here in the UK, I was really excited by the fact that home births were a service provided by the NHS, and something that wasn’t viewed as inherently risky or completely crazy—what a relief to be in a country that valued evidence, had a thriving midwifery presence, and a long history of midwifery care as the norm for all pregnant women! However, when I began to inquire into what the NHS home birth service looked like in my trust, I was very disappointed. Yes, the NHS would absolutely support my desire to have a home birth, but the majority of my care would be provided at the antenatal clinic at the hospital, following the usual schedule (and since I was a multip, this meant fewer visits with midwives than I would have been having as a primip). I would meet the community midwifery team for the first time at 28 weeks for one visit, and then again at 36 weeks, but this meant that I wouldn’t have much of a chance to get to know them at all, or even meet everyone on the team. Since there were 6-8 midwives on the team, chances were good that when I did go into labour, a complete stranger would be answering the call and coming to our house. I also learned that sometimes if the ward was very busy, the on-call community midwives were asked to come help out on the ward, and that when I went into labour, if the community midwife was on the ward at that moment, she would ask me to come to the ward for my birth. Not ideal! Even though it was absolutely within my right to put my foot down and insist that the midwife come attend me at home instead, the thought of having to make a decision like that while in labour (and to selfishly pull a midwife away from a busy ward where she was caring for other women) filled me with dread. Having had a taste of true continuity of care, it’s hard to settle for anything less than that the second time around. So in the end, we decided to hire an independent midwifery team for our second birth as well, and he was born in our downstairs loo into the loving hands of our midwives, whom we had gotten to know and adore through 9 months of unhurried antenatal visits in our home. It was expensive, but we were lucky enough to be able to afford it, and to my way of thinking, it was worth more than every pence we paid for it, especially when my son became very sick with a bout of viral meningitis on Day 5 and we ended up in the hospital with him—being visited daily by our independent midwives, whose familiar faces and support made such a difference to us during such a stressful time in our lives!

Giving birth with someone you know and trust is transformative, and it makes perfect sense: labour strips you down to an incredibly vulnerable place, by necessity, and it’s much easier to remove your armour and surrender to that vulnerability when you’re surrounded by people you trust. Additionally, labour is hormone mediated, which means that the more relaxed a woman is, the more easily the hormones of labour can unfold, without cortisol (a stress hormone) blocking the effects of the love hormone oxytocin (which is responsible for uterine contractions, among many other things). Women are incredibly sensitive and perceptive when they’re in labour; even small levels of anxiety are sometimes enough to disrupt contractions. Many women experience this when they first transfer to the hospital, discovering that their labour, which was booming along in the comfort and safety of their home, suddenly stalls over the journey and admission to the hospital. Continuity of care can help buffer these effects, though. When a woman is with a team that she knows and trusts, the message her labour brain receives is one of safety and security, rather than stress and anxiety, and this encourages the labour to progress without intervention (and is probably one of the reasons that continuity models have higher numbers of spontaneous vaginal deliveries, and lower numbers of augmentation, instrumental deliveries and cesarean births).

Therefore, with all of this in mind, I was really excited to learn that continuity of care would be part of our learning experience as a student midwife, and I envisioned myself giving care to women as part of the community midwifery team and getting to know them over the months of their pregnancy. However, I quickly learned that in the trust that I’m working at, continuity of care is the exception and not the rule. While a new case-loading model for high-risk women is going to be trialled at our trust over the next year, at the moment, the hospital-based antenatal care is often done by a different midwife at each visit—often midwives who are part of the same community midwifery “team”, but still different midwives. In some situations, there is antenatal continuity, especially in smaller satellite clinics which are run by the same midwife every week, but at the main hospital this is not often the case. And unfortunately, there is no continuity between the antenatal team and the labour ward team. When a woman finally goes into labour and comes to Labour Ward, she is greeted by brand new midwives she’s never met before, who are then tasked with the difficult job of building rapport and learning about the woman’s history and birth plans on the spot, while she’s in labour, which isn’t exactly the ideal time to be doing this crucial relationship-building. (For the record, though, the labour ward midwives work exceptionally hard at immediately building trust and rapport with the women when they come in, and are often able to provide exemplary care in spite of this significant hurdle—kudos to them! It’s not an easy task at all!). Additionally, the home birth on-call schedule is shared between the entire community midwifery department, which again means that when a woman calls to say she’s in labour, the community midwife who attends her birth will most likely be someone she’s never met before. If the woman is lucky, she might be cared for in the community by the same midwife for each of her postnatal visits, but again it’s common for different members of the same community team to visit her on different days, depending on which days they’re working.

As a student, we’re required to case-load at least one woman every year of our education, but our programme defines case-loading pretty loosely: one antenatal visit, caring for the woman in labour, and then one postnatal visit is all that’s required, although we’re certainly welcome to see the woman/ family more often than that if we can manage it (and if our schedule allows!). Even this minimal requirement is difficult to achieve, though, because we’re not allowed to give the women we’re case-loading our mobile number due to privacy/ confidentiality/ legal issues. Which means that it’s really hard to know exactly when she goes into labour! There are brightly coloured stickers which we put on the outside of the woman’s chart which have our contact details on them, in the hope that the midwives will call us when she arrives in labour at the hospital, but this doesn’t always happen. In fact, I case-loaded four women antenatally, each of whom I was lucky enough to attend two antenatal visits with, but I was never called by Labour Ward when they arrived in labour (despite the stickers on the front of their charts with my name and mobile number on them)— so I missed their births. In the end, to fulfill the requirement for case-loading in my programme, I “case-loaded” a woman who I saw once in triage in early labour, who was then sent home (this counted as my antenatal visit), who then returned to the hospital later that day and was admitted in labour. I attended her birth and helped catch her baby, and then saw her the following day on the postnatal ward (which counted as my postnatal visit). This isn’t exactly true case-loading or continuity of care, by a long shot! But if you’re a student in a trust where true case-loading doesn’t exist, this might be the best you can do in a less-than-ideal situation. If I hadn’t already experienced case-loading in a professional capacity as a midwife in the States, or as a pregnant woman receiving it, I’m not sure I would understand that continuity of care looks a lot different to what is being offered in my trust. Which is by no means suggesting that the care women are receiving in this trust is bad care–on the contrary, I think it’s very GOOD care, all things considered–but it’s not true continuity of care, and there’s plenty of room for improvement in that regard.

Continuity of care is meant to be an integral part of the student experience, but unfortunately it’s nearly impossible to ensure that students are exposed to this model of care. I’ve spoken to many students who have had the blessing of experiencing true continuity of care—Michelle Marling, the author of the Continuity Matters campaign, was lucky enough to discover this early in her student experience, which she has written about before. Once you’ve had a taste of the joys of continuity of care, it’s a lot harder to settle for anything less! But if you’re never exposed to true continuity of care as a student, you never learn that there is another model of care out there. You never learn to treasure it, to seek it out, to make it happen, to fight for it if necessary. You grow up in the system as it stands, learning how it works, growing confident in your skills and competence within that system, and all the while never know that other options exist. And it all boils down to a chicken-and-egg sort of question. If student midwives aren’t exposed to continuity, they won’t want to provide that type of care. They won’t clamour for creating continuity models in their trust, they won’t be keen to sign up for case loading teams, they won’t want to provide that type of care—and then, less of that care will exist, and even fewer students will be exposed to it. And around and around it will go. This is how systems are perpetuated, and why creating systemic change is always so challenging.

Thankfully it does seem like the message of continuity is starting to seep into the system, with the RCM, RCOG, Better Births and Midwifery 2020 all promoting it (and even the World Health Organization recommending it in their most recent intrapartum guidelines). My fingers are crossed that the high-risk case-loading trial at our hospital will be a rousing success, and we can start to roll this type of care out for low-risk women as well. The evidence speaks for itself. What’s more difficult to combat is the perception that case-loading is too difficult, that case-loading midwives never have down-time or chance to see their families, and that case-loading leads to burn-out. In part, I think burn-out occurs because not enough midwives want to case-load (in part because they weren’t exposed to it), which means that too much pressure is put on the few midwives who do. If the work of case-loading is spread out over many midwives, in small teams or in buddy systems, the work is much more manageable (but again, this is easier said than done in a system that’s already 5,000 midwives short). (Better births tries to help prevent this by suggesting caps for case-loading teams, putting a ring-fence around their work so that they can’t be pulled to different units, and allowing the midwives to manage their own schedule and diary.) Nevertheless, despite these challenges, this is the future I long for: a world where all women can receive true continuity of care and the many benefits associated with it, and all case-loading teams are staffed robustly enough to allow each midwife the important down-time and off-duty she needs to recharge her batteries and return to work refreshed and ready to give her all again. This is the case-loading dream! But if students aren’t exposed to this type of care, how will we know to shoot for it?

The Pinard Stethoscope

The Pinard Stethoscope

So here’s something that will be pretty mind-boggling for my UK readers: in the US, the Pinard stethoscope doesn’t really exist, at least not in any of the midwifery circles I travelled in.  NO ONE used it.  I’d never seen one or even heard of it until I moved here and started midwifery school (in fact, the only mention I can find of it in any of my American midwifery books–including my American midwifery textbooks–is a brief mention of it on page 112 in Ina May Gaskin’s Birth Matters, where it’s called the Pinard Horn rather than the Pinard stethoscope).  So you can imagine my surprise when I discovered that here in the UK, the Pinard stethoscope is a beloved midwifery tool, so much so that it serves as the logo for the Association of Radical Midwives, and beautiful wooden models are often given to newly qualified midwives as graduation gifts. Nearly every UK midwife owns a Pinard stethoscope–many of them even own several–and if that doesn’t convince you of its importance, it’s one of the first things Jenny pulls out of her midwifery bag during her visits on Call the Midwife.

All of this was news to me, though, as the closest thing we have to the Pinard stethoscope in the US is a fetoscope, which looks like this:

And you can see America’s most famous midwife, Ina May Gaskin, using a fetoscope here:

However, when I brought my American-style fetoscope to antenatal visits to show to my mentor, she was rather shocked, as she’d never seen one before. We then spent the afternoon experimenting with the Pinard stethoscope v. the fetoscope for auscultation of the fetal heart. I found that I could hear the fetal heartbeat more clearly with the fetoscope, while she preferred the Pinard. Go figure! But it was a very interesting experiment, and generally the pregnant women who so graciously allowed us to practice auscultation on their beautiful bellies were amused by the whole thing.

Since I knew virtually nothing about the Pinard stethoscope, and since as a student here in the UK we’re required to become proficient with its use as per the standards for pre-registration midwifery education (NMC, 2009), I thought it would be a good topic to write about for my first midwifery school essay assignment (which, interestingly enough, are called “assessments” here, rather than “essays”, just for the record). So, having written 15 pages on the subject now, and having tried my hand at it multiple times in the clinical setting, I have a bit more of a clue with regards to this ancient and much-revered midwifery tool, which I’m going to share here (you lucky devils, you!).

The Pinard stethoscope is a small 6-8” hollow, funnel-shaped tube often made of wood, metal or plastic, with the larger end placed against the woman’s abdomen and the auscultator’s ear placed against the smaller end (Harrison, 2004). In pregnancy, the Pinard stethoscope can be used from approximately 24 weeks onwards to auscultate the fetal heart during antenatal visits, and can be used in labour as a tool for intermittent auscultation (Johnson & Taylor, 2016). The very first monoaural stethoscope was invented in 1819 René Laennec, and was basically a long wooden tube which the auscultator would place against the patient’s chest wall, with his/her ear placed against the other end (although who’re we kidding…in 1819, it was most likely a man’s ear on the listening end).  Prior to Laennec’s invention of the monoaural stethoscope, fetal auscultation was performed by the examiner placing his (or her) ear directly against the woman’s skin and listening through her abdomen, a practice which required a large degree of intimacy between patient and practitioner, and which (you can imagine) may have been particularly discomfiting to 19th Century sensibilities (Montagu, 2008; Blincoe, 2005). The Laennec stethoscope afforded a measure of distance between patient and practitioner, helping to preserve the dignity of both, and in 1821, Laennec’s colleague, Jacques Kergaradec, applied the newly invented stethoscope to fetal auscultation for the very first time (Pinkerton, 1969). John Creery Ferguson brought fetal auscultation to the British Isles after studying in Paris with Laennec and Kergaradec, where the practice quickly took root at the Rotunda Hospital in Dublin, gradually spreading to the rest of the UK from there (Pinkerton, 1980; Harrison, 2004). The Laennec stethoscope underwent modifications by Holh in 1834, and was finally refined by Adolfe Pinard in 1896 into the current model (Harrison, 2004; Dunn, 2006). The Pinard stethoscope transmits fetal heart sounds more clearly through the long bore of the tube than the more ubiquitous binaural stethoscope which we commonly see slung around practitioner’s necks, which is one of the reasons it still remains in use as a modern obstetric tool today (Montagu, 2008). And, since the advent of the Midwives Act in 1902 here in the UK, proficiency with the Pinard stethoscope been taught to midwives in the United Kingdom for over a century now.

So why use a Pinard stethoscope? What are the advantages to it, versus the more common doppler (which uses ultrasound technology)? And how does Pinard use slot into general antenatal and intrapartum care here in the UK? Good questions, and as luck would have it, this was exactly what I was writing about in my essay!

At its most basic level, the rationale underpinning fetal auscultation is to confirm the presence or absence of a fetal heart rate (FHR) and to assess fetal well-being (Johnson & Taylor, 2016). According to the National Institute of Health and Care Excellence (NICE) Guidelines (sort of the US’ NIH equivalent), there is limited benefit from routine FHR auscultation during antenatal visits, particularly in the presence of fetal movement, since “auscultation of the fetal heart may confirm that the fetus is alive but is unlikely to have any predictive value, and routine listening is therefore not recommended” (NICE, 2008). Nevertheless, NICE supports antenatal FHR auscultation if the mother requests it, and for better or worse, FHR auscultation has become an expected and routine part of antenatal care these days–I couldn’t imagine an antenatal visit in which a mother didn’t want to hear her baby’s heartbeat (once the pregnancy had advanced to the point that this is possible). In labour, FHR auscultation is recommended throughout in order to monitor fetal well-being and the fetal response to contractions (Johnson & Taylor, 2016). The NICE Intrapartum Care for Healthy Women and Babies Guideline (2014) recommends intermittent auscultation every fifteen minutes in the first stage and every five minutes in the second stage for all low-risk women in labour, with continuous cardiotocography (CTG–i.e. electronic fetal monitoring, in US speak) used only in high-risk women, or in situations where intermittent auscultation reveals a non-reassuring FHR pattern or other emerging risk factors (NICE, 2014).

The use of the Pinard stethoscope as a primary tool for fetal auscultation is supported by both NICE and the Royal College of Midwives (RCM). In its 2012 guideline on intermittent auscultation in labour, the RCM recommends that the Pinard stethoscope be used to initially auscultate the FHR before switching to hand-held Doppler or CTG (i.e. electronic fetal monitoring) in order to ensure that the fetal heart is being recorded accurately (RCM, 2012).  This is because unfortunately the Doppler is capable of picking up “artifact” and doubling or halving the maternal heart rate by mistake, and in many tragic situations Doppler ultrasound can falsely reassure both parents and practitioners that the baby is alive and well, when in fact that’s not the case (and many UK stores recently banned the sale of hand-held dopplers to customers because of this very thing).  Using a Pinard stethoscope first to confirm the presence of the fetal heart helps to limit this mistake, and in fact, the Medicines and Healthcare Products Regulatory Agency here in the UK has issued an advisory on CTG which calls for the Pinard stethoscope to be used initially and at any other point when a change in FHR or concern in labour arises, in order to prevent monitoring the wrong heart beat (MHRA, 2010).  NICE also specifies that either the Pinard stethoscope or Doppler ultrasound be used for the initial assessment of a woman in labour, rather than CTG, and that the Pinard is a valid tool for intermittent auscultation throughout labour (NICE, 2014).

There are many advantages to using the Pinard stethoscope. First of all, as mentioned above, the Pinard stethoscope allows the midwife to listen to the FHR directly, unlike Doppler technology which uses ultrasound technology “to evaluate changes in sound waves caused by the direction and velocity of blood flowing through vessels and the heart” (Blincoe, 2005) and which can sometimes get it wrong and pick up the maternal heart rate by mistake.  Many experienced practitioners also find that they are able to hear not only variability with a Pinard, but also differences in tone and rhythm which can be ascribed to differences in individual babies (ARM, 2000; Wickham, 2002a; Cronk, 2002), and in fact there have been reports of midwives being able to pick up congenital heart defects through the subtle changes in rate they were able to detect with the Pinard (ARM, 2000). The Pinard stethoscope may also help support the woman in her role as the expert on her baby (Young, 1999; Montagu, 2007). “The current fashion for selling Dopplers to pregnant women implies that artificial monitoring is in some way protective; instead, it disempowers women and casts implicit doubt on their ability to be conscious of their own baby’s well-being through …awareness of the baby’s movements” (Montagu, 2008, p. 3). In other words, we should all be working harder to support and empower women to feel like THEY are the experts on their babies (because they are) and reaffirming again and again that the biggest predictor of fetal well-being is fetal movement. If you can’t hear the FHR because the baby is moving too much–no problem! You know that the baby is absolutely fine, in that situation (although, unfortunately thanks the to the pressures of litigation, as a midwife these days you would still have to find and record the fetal heart rate, otherwise your care will be deemed sub-standard, and certainly wouldn’t hold up in a court of law).  The low-tech Pinard stethoscope exemplifies the art and essence of midwifery care, and is particularly valuable in the developing world where resources are more limited (Mahomed et. al., 1994). Similarly, there will always be women in the developed world who will decline ultrasound technology, and since it’s imperative that midwives respect a woman’s choices as per the NMC Code (2015) and the Better Births Initiative (National Maternity Review, 2016), the Pinard stethoscope offers a much needed alternative to the Doppler!

However, in practice, the Pinard stethoscope has several disadvantages as well.  First, it’s not easy to use in labour, particularly if the woman is moving around or assuming different positions, such as on hands and knees (Blake, 2008; Harrison, 2004). Second, the Pinard stethoscope can only be used from 24-28 weeks onward, whereas the Doppler can detect the FHR as early as 10 wks (Blake, 2008), which is a big advantage to the Doppler in many women’s books, since naturally many women want to hear their baby’s heart beat as early as possible. There is also concern that accurate FHR auscultation can only be achieved by a highly-skilled practitioner who is expert with the tool, and that the average user is not as accurate (Blake, 2008)–and I can certainly attest to that, as the Pinard stethoscope is quite tricky to use in the beginning.  Additionally, a randomised control trial (RCT) comparing Pinard stethoscope to Doppler or CTG found that the Pinard was the least successful in identifying abnormal FHR patterns (Mahomed et. al., 1994). You can’t use the Pinard stethoscope in the water, which means if you’re monitoring a woman with Pinards alone, she’d have to get out of her birth tub every time you needed to listen, which isn’t very practical.  Finally, women have reported that the use of the Pinard stethoscope in labour is more uncomfortable than the Doppler, particularly if you can only use the Pinard while she’s on her back; additionally, you sometimes have to press quite firmly with the Pinards in order to be able to hear the FHR, which again can be very uncomfortable in labour.  Overall, studies have shown that women tend to prefer Doppler or CTG monitoring instead of the Pinard stethoscope, as being able to hear the heart themselves provides them with more reassurance (Garcia et. al., 1985; ARM, 2000).

And in practice, what is it actually like? Well, rather tricky. It took me several tries with it before I could finally hear the fetal heart. It’s often a very faint sound, and in many cases I don’t really “hear” it at all, but instead almost “feel” it against my ear as a vibration, something which Mary Cronk has written about as well (Cronk, 2002). It also requires that you’re SPOT ON with your abdominal palpation, as you really have to be right on top of the fetal heart in order to be able to hear it (whereas the Doppler is a bit more forgiving, and can allow you to pick up the heart rate even if you’re not exactly in the right location).  This means that the Pinard is a lot more difficult to use in situations where the baby is fully engaged, breech or posterior, as well as in situations where it’s difficult to determine the baby’s position due to the mum having a higher BMI. On the flip side, however, because precise abdominal palpation is a prerequisite skill for using the Pinard stethoscope, many midwives will use the Pinard to help confirm that their assessment of fetal position is correct, and sometimes see this as an advantage to its use (Cronk, 2002; Montague, 2008; Wickham, 2002a).

All in all, there’s something really special about the Pinard stethoscope, and I’m very glad that I’ve had the opportunity to learn how to use it.  I like it because of its historical significance, as well as its low-tech simplicity. I also like that there’s a real art to its use that only comes from experience and continued skill development. To me it represents a true skill that must be learned and practiced many, many times in order to attain mastery, and is something I’ll have to continue to practice and refine for the remaining years of my career.  Now that I’m on my rotation in the Birthing Center, I’ve been relying on the Doppler more, particularly as we’ve been using the pools a lot and it’s impossible to use the Pinard in a pool, but I would absolutely like try the Pinard in labour as well. I would like to someday be as comfortable and proficient with the Pinard as I am with the Doppler–it’s worth aspiring to, at any rate!

 

References:

Association of Radical Midwives (ARM). (2000) ‘Hearing Variability’, Midwifery Matters, (84) [no page numbers].

Blake, D. (2008) ‘Pinards: out of use and out of date?’, British Journal of Midwifery, 16(6), pp. 364-365.

Blincoe, A. J. (2005) ‘Fetal monitoring challengs and choices for midwives’, British Journal of Midwifery, 13(2), ppp. 108-111.

Cronk, M. (2002) Me and my Pinard’s. Midwifery Matters, (94), pp. 3-4.

Dunn, P.M. (2006) ‘Adolphe Pinard (1844-1934) of Paris and intrauterine paediatric care’, Archives of Disease in Childhood, Fetal & Neonatal Edition, 91(3), pp. 79-85.

Garcia, J. et al. (1985) ‘Mother’s Views of continuous electronic fetal heart monitoring and intermittent auscultation in a randomized controlled trial.’ Birth, 12(2), pp. 79-85.

Harrison, J. (2004) ‘Auscultation: the art of listening’, RCM Midwives, 7(2), pp. 64-69.

Johnson, R. and Taylor, W. (2016) Skills for Midwifery Practice. 4th Edition. London: Elsevier.

Mahomed, K., Nyoni, R., Mulambo, T., Kasule, J. and Jacobus, E. (1994) ‘Randomised controlled trial of intrapartum fetal heart rate monitoring’, British Medical Journal, 308(6927), pp. 497-500.

Medicines and Healthcare products Regulatory Agency (MHRA) (2010) Fetal Monitor/ Cardiotograph (CTG) – Adverse Outcomes Still Reported. Available at: https://www.gov.uk/drug-device-alerts/medical-device-alert-fetal-monitor-cardiotocograph-ctg-adverse-outcomes-still-reported (Accessed: 11 May 2017)

Montagu, S. (2008) In defense of the Pinard. Midwifery Matters, (118), pp. 3-4.

National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) (2008) Antenatal Care for Uncomplicated Pregnancies. (Clinical Guideline CG 62). Available at: https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/cg62/chapter/1-Guidance (Accessed: 19 May 2017)

National Institute for Health and Care Excellence (NICE) (2014) Intrapartum Care for Healthy Women and Babies. (Clinical Guideline CG 190). Available at: https://www.nice.org.uk/guidance/cg190 (Accessed: 11 May 2017)

Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC) (2009) Standards for pre-registration midwifery education. Available at: https://www.nmc.org.uk/globalassets/sitedocuments/standards/nmc-standards-for-preregistration-midwifery-education.pdf (Accessed: 11 May 2017)

Nursing and Midwifery Council (NMC) (2015) The Code. Available at: https://www.nmc.org.uk/standards/code/ (Accessed: 15 May 2017)

Pinkerton, J.H.M (1969) ‘Kergaradec, Friend of Laennec and Pioneer of Foetal Auscultation’, Proceedings of the Royal Society of Medicine, 62(5), pp. 477-483.

Pinkerton, J.H.M (1980) ‘John Creery Ferguson: Friend of William Stokes and pioneer of auscultation of hte fetal heart in the British Isles’, British Journal of Obstetrics and Gynaecology, 87(4), pp.257-260.

Royal College of Midwives (RCM) (2012) Evidence Based Guidelines for Midwifery-Led Care in Labour: Intermittent Auscultation. Available at: https://www.rcm.org.uk/sites/default/files/Intermittent%20Auscultation%20%28IA%29_0.pdf (Accessed: 11 May 2017)

Wickham, S. (2002a) ‘Pinard wisdom: tips and tricks from midwives (Part 1)’ Practising Midwife, 5(9), pp. 21.

Wickham, S. (2002b) ‘Pinard wisdom: tips and tricks from midwives (Part 2)’ Practising Midwife, 5(10), pp. 35.

Young, G. (1999) ‘The case for community-based maternity care’, in Marsh, G. and Renfrew, M. (eds.) Community-based Maternity Care. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 7-26.

Notes to Self

Notes to Self

We’re beginning the clinical portion of our midwifery education now, after a very intense, action-packed 8 weeks of theory and classroom work. For the next 8 weeks, we’ll be in the clinical setting, on our placements, learning by doing, helping and shaping the antenatal, birth and postnatal experiences of the women we meet.  I’m SO EXCITED to begin actual midwifery work again! But on the eve of my clinical placement, it seemed like a good time to write a few notes to myself (and my fellow students on the eve of this exciting milestone):

Clinicals are going to challenge you in ways we can’t even imagine yet–even though you’ve done parts of this before, it’s still going to be challenging, and new. You’ll need your mind, your ability to think, your ability to feel, your ability to see clearly, to watch and wait, to put 2+2 together, to use all of this knowledge we’ve been working so hard to acquire.

But remember that birth isn’t in the textbook. It’s in the mother, sweating with exertion, it’s in the partner, whispering words to encourage her, it’s in the baby, liminal and waiting.

Remember that wherever you stand in that labour room, no matter how chaotic, you stand in a holy place. Your heart has called you to this profession, this path, this work. Let your heart shine–your wisdom, your strength, your love.

 

 

Differences so far…

Differences so far…

Wow, I’m not even sure where to start here. There have been A LOT of differences so far between American midwifery and British midwifery. Here’s just a small sampling.

First, abbreviations. Some of them are the same, most of them are completely different. In the US, an IUD is an intrauterine device (i.e. contraception). In the UK, it’s an intrauterine demise (stillborn baby). BIG difference there. In the US, taking a medication twice a day is BID (“bis in die”, Latin for twice daily); in the UK, it’s just BD. QID = QD, TID = TD. In the US when I see PE on a chart, I would think Physical Exam. Here it means Pulmonary Embolism. In the US, contractions are measured on a tocometer, or abbreviated as “toco”. Here it’s abbreviated as CTG (meaning cardiotocograph). FHHR is fetal heart rate heard regular, rather than just FHR (Fetal heart rate). Small things like that, but it adds up.

The antenatal visit schedule is very different as well. In the US, pregnant women can get anywhere from 12-14 prenatal visits through the course of their pregnancy. Here, a nulliparous woman (first-time mom) will only have 10 visits total with her midwife, and a multiparous woman (second-time mom) will only have 7 visits total with her midwife. In the US, generally the longest time between visits would be 4 weeks, but here there can be up to 6 weeks between midwifery visits. I can see how this might be a much more efficient schedule and use of resources (and the NHS is all about using resources wisely), but I wonder if there is flexibility in this schedule for the mums that may have a lot of issues going on and might actually needs more frequent follow-up. I wonder how that works with the overall schedule, and I wonder how midwives get around that (extra sonograms in place of visits, maybe?). This will be a very interesting area to learn more about. According to NICE guidelines for antenatal care, the schedule looks like this: Initial booking appointment with the midwife by 10 wks if possible, 10-14 wks: ultrasound for gestational age (but no midwife visit), 16 wks: midwife, 18-20 wks (ultrasound for fetal anomalies/ anatomy scan, but no midwife visit), 25 wks: midwife (nullips only), 28 wks: midwife (nullips AND multips), 31 wks: midwife (nullips only), 34 wks: midwife (nullips & multips), 36, 38 wks: midwife (nullips & multips), 40 wks: midwife (nullips only), 41 wks: midwife (nullips and multips, to discuss postdates options). And that’s it, folks.

The screening schedule is slightly different. For instance, in the US an initial visit usually involves a pap smear and a test for gonorrhea and chlamydia. Here in the UK, these are not routinely offered. Pap smears are done routinely by a GP (rather than OB/Gyn or midwife or women’s health NP) on a different screening schedule (every 3 years), so  there’s no need to try to catch up on smears at an initial pregnancy booking. In the US, since many women don’t have access to routine care, it’s sometimes been years and years since they had a pap smear (and sometimes they’ve *never* had a pap smear before), and because pregnancy is actually a time in a woman’s life when she accesses care, the US system is designed to try to take advantage of this and do a lot of catch-up primary care/ health promoting tests at the same time as the routine prenatal care. But thanks to the beauty of UNIVERSAL health care, routine health promotion practices are already in place, so pregnancy care is exactly that: *pregnancy* care. Also interestingly enough, there is no vaginal/ pelvic exam at an initial pregnancy visit here, and many of the British midwives I have spoken to are very puzzled by the need for one. “Why would you routinely do an invasive, uncomfortable exam at an initial pregnancy booking on all women?” Well….because….well….I don’t really have a good answer to that. Because in the States this is something we’re taught to do: pap/ gonorrhea+chlamydia test/ vaginal exam/ bimanual exam/ pelvimetry, at every initial antenatal visit. But in a healthy, low-risk woman who’s already had access to regular check-ups and care, is all of that really necessary? Paps are routinely screened for in the general public by GPs here, and there is a national screening program for all women under 25 years of age for chlamydia, so again chlamydia is already being routinely screened for in the most at-risk population. There is no mention of gonorrhea testing as a routine part of antenatal *screening*. I guess this means that GC/CT are screened for only if there is an indication through the woman’s personal history? Again, this is something I’m going to have to learn more about. Also very interesting is the fact that Group Beta Strep is NOT routinely screened for in all pregnant women at 36 wks here. Which is rather mind-blowing to me. But in a less litigious, more resource-efficient society, perhaps this makes sense too. And it would drastically cut down on the overuse of antibiotics and antibiotic resistance (not to mention the damage routine antibiotic use is doing to our collective human microbiome on a population level). Again, this is something I’m going to have to learn a lot more about.

And finally, ANATOMY is different here. I kid you not! I thought surely the Latin names for muscles and bones and organs and structures would be the same. But no, lots of new names I’ve never heard of before. For example, I would call it the rectouterine pouch. Here it’s call the Pouch of Douglas. What I would label the pubococcygeus muscle (in the levator ani), the Brits call the pubovisceral muscle. What I would call the puborectalis (again in the levator ani), the Brits call the puboanalis. Lots and lots of little things like that. Very similar, but not quite 100% the same. Which means that even though a lot of this material is familiar, I can’t assume that I know it. I don’t know it (and I had forgotten most of the names of all of these muscles anyway). So I am having to study it all again as if I’m learning it for the first time. Time to hit the books!