The shrill urgent sound of a mobile pierces the night. It must be around 2AM. Immediate shuffling and sounds of dressing and bags packing are heard in the next room of the seaside cabin. Within a few minutes she is in the family rooms collecting food in the tiny kitchen. A quick good-bye to our sleepy forms on the pull-out couch and she is out the door. The ignition starts first go and the car is gone into the summer night.
A baby is coming, 2 and a half hours drive away and Kusum is the home-birth midwife.
My farmer husband and I had arrived earlier in the day on a spontaneous New Years Day whim to join the holidaying community of old friends at Ocean Grove. Harvest was interrupted by rain and the fencing job could wait till Monday. We caught up with the news and were aware that Kusum was alert to the mobile close by her, as a birth was already due 24 hours ago. This particular booking had come because of a mother's wish to change her birth arrangements a few weeks previous, because of a fire at the hospital at which her birthing was planned. She needed a second mid-wife alongside that of the birthing unit. And Kusum has a big heart, her daughter pointed out to me emphatically.
As I sink back into sleep - I think of the mileposts in her journey. Into Geelong, onto the Princes Highway, over Westgate, threading her way through the sleeping suburbs of Melbourne. What thoughts go through her mind as she drives? Every birth is so different and she needs to be totally attentive to the practicalities of an intensely responsible job, and also sensitive to the emotional journey of a birthing mother. She has learnt from long experience how much the latter impacts on the ease of delivery. She is a French-born Australian mid-wife- a
'sage-femme'
- a wise woman, and needs to bring all the wisdom of the female of our species to the coming experience.
During the next morning her husband rings her to check how things are going, from above the surf beach. This particular call-out for her is a sudden interruption to family time that is part of their life together.
The birth was fine. However because of complications from a previous birth, the mother needs to go to hospital after the birth. Kusum wants to go with her to complete the
'job' and to give the mother support. The mother will benefit from having two trusted mid-wives watching over the new, unknown hospital staff, and holding the new-born baby which needs to be with it's mother in these critical early hours of life.
It's afternoon, New Years day. Kids, cricket, 'one-hand-one-bounce-and -you're- out' yells from the
'village square' in the centre of the line of holiday cabins. Kusum's daughter Maisy rings her again. She is at Werribee en route home. This will add up to over 12 sleepless hours. Maisy says she is good at pulling over by the road if she needs to rest. Maisy heads off in the car to buy flowers, her own baby in tow. Kusum loves flowers. And Maisy herself has benefited from Kusum's attention and love during her own birthing experience 5 months ago.
Late afternoon . She is home at last. We are all a little sensitive to her needs after a birth booking which is always a mind-blowing experience. Her other dear friend and I talk a little with her in the tiny kitchen. She needs to talk about her feelings and have a hug. She says on the way home she got lost and was crying in the car about the tsunami victims and all sorts of things. Birthing seems to touch people deeply.
Nearly sundown. Kusum decides to take a blanket to the beach and have a sleep on the sand. We keep dinner for her. She has no more babies due for a fortnight and can enjoy the time with her family.
To me there is something mythic and ancient about the mid-wife receiving the call to go
- not to an accident, not to a death or even a global tragedy, but to welcome a new baby to our world.
Kusum is based in Warrandyte and has been working as a homebirth mid-wife since 1999. Since then she has attended a total of 112 births .
