Walking away from a career in prehospital critical care of over 9 years feels like leaving a part of myself behind. The thrill of a positive patient outcome, the excitement of delivering world-class critical care, the heartbreak of resuscitations, the shared camaraderie and enduring bonds with colleagues who know what it is to hold life in their hands: these experiences shape you. These experiences have made me who I am. But stepping away, as a woman, carries an additional weight – one that men in the same position often do not have to bear. It is not just the shift work, the relentless demands, or the emotional toll of the job – it is the sense that my leaving is being scrutinised through a lens of gendered expectation.
In critical care, women are already underrepresented. We push through, proving ourselves time and again, battling implicit biases that question our authority, our resilience, and our ability to lead. To leave that space, knowing that it remains underrepresented of women feels like an admission of defeat, as though my absence somehow reinforces the misconception that women cannot thrive in such intense environments. I know it is not true, and yet, the thought lingers.
The moment I stepped out of a shift-based role, the assumptions started: ‘that'll be better for the children’. These comments are rarely directed at men who move into leadership, research, or academic roles. When a man transitions into a non-clinical position, he is seen as evolving, as advancing. His career is expanding. When a woman does the same, it is often perceived as a retreat, a compromise, a loss.
What people fail to see is that this transition is not a step back, it is a step forward. Leaving critical care does not mean leaving my ambition, my capability, or my drive. If anything, it means I am claiming the ability to shape my career in a way that allows me to be everything I need to be: a leader, an academic, a mentor, and yes, a mother. The expectation that I must sacrifice one to be successful at the other is not only outdated but also deeply flawed. I have seen male colleagues praised for achieving work-life balance when they choose roles with more predictable hours. Their decisions are framed as wise, as strategic. For women, there is often an unspoken assumption that leaving shift work is an indication that we are choosing family at the expense of professional success, rather than in harmony with it.
But here is the truth: I have not lost my edge. I have not lost my knowledge or my passion. I am still shaping the future of paramedicine, guiding the next generation of clinicians, contributing to research, and ensuring that women who come after me see that leadership does not require sacrificing elements of motherhood or personal wellbeing. If anything, my transition into a non-shift-based role has allowed me to become a better advocate, a stronger teacher, and a more balanced professional.
We need to shift the narrative. A woman leaving critical care should not be seen as a loss but as a transformation. The field does not lose when women move into roles that allow them to thrive in different ways. It gains leaders who bring fresh perspectives, who drive change, who ensure that the voices of women in medicine continue to be heard.
It is time to recognise that success in paramedicine is not defined solely by the intensity of the clinical environment one remains in. Success is about impact, leadership, paving the way for future generations. If we want to see more women in critical care, we need to create environments that support them in staying and respect them when they choose to lead in different ways.
Leaving critical care was not easy, and at times, I feel the weight of that decision. I miss my colleagues, the excitement of such a dynamic environment and the wonderful insights that looking after people in their hour of need brings. But I refuse to see it as a loss. It is not the end of my contribution; it is the beginning of a new kind of influence. I will continue to fight for representation, respect, and the recognition that a woman's career is not diminished – but strengthened – by change. And perhaps, in doing so, I can help shift the way we see success in paramedicine – one assumption at a time.