The Midwife's New-Found...

by Fiona McArthur

  Misty compressed her lips, which only served to draw attention to something he was trying not to think about—her gorgeous mouth. Consciously he cut the thought off. That was not why he was there and he was sorry if he'd upset her.

  Misty closed her eyes briefly as if exasperated with him. 'Did you have your ears shut when she sighed with relief at getting off the bed?'

  He thought about that. Maybe. 'And, antenatally, do you encourage no injections after the birth?' He raised his eyebrows sceptically. 'Or do all the women mystically come to the same conclusion and decline off their own bats?'

  'They choose, Ben. That's what this place is all about. Choice.' She looked at him. 'You'll have to get used to it or this isn't the place for you.'

  She meant that. She really did. He thought about the conversation, about what he'd just witnessed and what he knew about Misty—the woman who had saved his life and asked nothing in return.

  And the baby's outcome? 'Well, the birth was incredible. Thank you for allowing me to stay.' He really was glad of the opportunity to get an early impression of how they did things here.

  'I guess it's such a different style from my last hospital it will take me a few days to get used to it.'

  It was Misty's turn to be nonplussed. Ben appeared bemused, as if he'd forgotten how natural birth could be, which didn't make sense when she knew he must have seen hundreds of babies enter the world.

  She frowned at the underlying confusion in his eyes. She'd always imagined he'd be in absolute control of his emotions and she'd been surprised at his intrusive comments during the birth.

  Though he'd been helpful at the end. She supposed it was a mental swing from being the primary obstetrician on a big ward to a midwife's helper here, but it was something he needed to change if her unit was going to remain as peaceful as it normally was.

  'Cherry was amazing,' she said instead, and tried to lighten the atmosphere. 'Thanks for steering Ritchie into the chair. It's always distracting when a dad faints beside me.'

  The more he thought about it the more Ben's mind was grappling with something he seemed to have lost sight of years ago. The joy of birth. 'The least I could do,' he said but his thoughts were elsewhere.

  It had been far too long since he'd seen a normal birth, a healthy woman and no interference from the birth attendant. But the element of risk when everything was left to nature would take some getting used to.

  A flicker of familiar unease and the darkness he'd like to have left behind caught up with him. They were still playing with life here and he'd seen what bad outcomes could do to people. 'I'm not happy about the lack of injection after the birth.'

  Misty looked up at him as if he'd just blasphemed and he found his mouth twitching at what was becoming a standard response from her.

  The edge was back in her voice and he realised he'd ignited her zeal more than he'd intended. 'The medication is there if we need it,' she said. 'But we seldom do. Doesn't it make you think of all those women who have interference that don't need it?'

  He shook his head. 'No. It makes me think of the controlled randomised studies that prove oxytocin after the birth of the baby decreases the risk of post-partum haemorrhage in hospitals.'

  Misty nodded but there was a glint in her eye. 'I think the key word is "hospitals". Why do you think women have more haemorrhages in hospital, Ben?' She raised her finely arched brows. 'Hmmm. I wonder.'

  She was daring him to get into a technical discussion with her. No problem, lady, he thought, and mentally rubbed his hands. 'Enlighten me.'

  She raised her eyebrows, not one whit intimidated by his confidence that he'd win this one.

  'I've already said it. Interference,' she said. 'That's why.'

  'Isn't this a hospital?'

  'No. It's a birth centre. Women-centred care for healthy pregnant women.'

  He thought about her response and conceded that the more qualifications and experience he had, the more the system seemed to thrust him into intervention and diagnostics. Stats might not be as valid here but they were valid where he'd come from. Then again, he hadn't been anywhere like this place in all his time.

  This place was amazing but he wasn't going to tell her that. How much specialist antenatal care did they really receive here? 'Did Cherry even have an ultrasound during pregnancy?'

  'Andy likes the clients booked here to have one ultrasound at least.' Misty's brows drew together and from the frown he guessed she didn't think the women needed that either. That amused him.

  Misty went on. 'They have scans at eighteen weeks into the pregnancy. Other than that we answer ultrasound questions with good antenatal care and hands-on assessment.' There was challenge in the last words. 'As it should be.'

  He'd bet their clinical skills were top-notch with all that hands-on experience. 'So how does this place work with staff?'

  She grinned at that as if the mention of staff made her smile. Misty was jotting times and names in the birth register and had recovered her good humour. He should take a leaf out of her book and learn to get over things once they were discussed. Maybe he wouldn't have turned into the person he was.

  She answered absently. 'I call a second person in for the birth in case they need to go for something or call for help, but otherwise they're only an observer. You have to remember these are low-risk women doing what they are designed to do.' She thought of Montana. 'They could do it on their own if they had to.'

  All his misgivings came back. He couldn't banish the spectre of worrying if something went wrong. The spectre of the past. 'So you look after them on your own or with another midwife?'

  Misty must have picked up on his unease because a firmer note had entered her voice. 'Or a nurse, or Andy if no one else is around. Now, I guess, you.'

  All he could think of were the hordes of people available in the hospital he'd worked at. Midwives, nurses, registrars, paediatricians, all on call or a few minutes away. And still they'd had their tragedies. With terrible ramifications.

  'What if everyone is busy in Casualty and can't get away? What if two women come in at once?'

  Misty had no such qualms. 'Then I manage with the woman's support person and phone for help if I need it.' Finally she gave him her attention. 'Didn't Andy explain the unit to you?'

  No, and I'm far from comfortable, Ben thought, but he didn't say it because he'd only just got here and somehow he was still on the back foot with Misty. He hadn't figured how or why that had happened yet.

  So instead he said, 'Andy hasn't really had the time. He said he'd deal with any problems but apparently problems are rare.'

  Ben heard himself but he couldn't stop thinking more negatively than he was speaking. He was a doctor. And a man. It was his job to fix things, and the concept that nothing was broken that required his skills was an interesting one to grapple with.

  Misty was more than comfortable, he could see that, and he realised suddenly that he envied her.

  'Problems are rare,' she said, 'because with well women and well babies, birth is a natural event, not an illness. We handle trouble efficiently if it happens. This is woman-centred care—so guess who the most important person is?'

  He could hear the challenge in her voice and he didn't like the inference he'd disagree. Despite the fact he'd just pondered it himself. 'Why would you think I would have a problem with the woman being that?'

  'It's been my experience with obstetricians. They like to know what's going on inside the woman, as if the exact progress and descent and dilation should be monitored for safe outcome. They think the more machinery the better.'

  She looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. 'True?'

  He shrugged, unwilling to get into another argument. Misty had no such qualms. He could tell she was fiercely protective about the way they worked at the lake.

  'To a real birth attendant,' she said, 'a woman shows in her behaviour how her labour is progressing.'

  Ben frowned. 'Not all the time. We've all seen quiet achievers, and I
think that generalised statement about obstetricians is unfair.' He added quietly, 'And this aggression doesn't seem like the woman I met last month.'

  He heard her sigh and she ran a hand over her eyes and suddenly she looked less assured. He realised she was probably more tense than usual because he was there. He was sorry for that. He should have at least warned her he was coming, now that he thought about it.

  'You're right,' she said. 'It was a generalisation. I apologise. I guess I'm still a little shocked to see you.'

  Of course she was. And how typical of the Misty he did remember not to have a problem saying she was in the wrong. And he hadn't even mentioned he'd brought his daughter.

  She turned away from him. 'But I do have work to do.'

  'I'll help,' he said, and she paused as if she was going to say something then changed her mind. 'Fine' was all she said, so he followed her while she cleaned her trolley and washed instruments.

  She had the delightful stride of a woman on a mission and he could have watched her all day.

  Gloves were donned as she checked the placenta to ensure all of the lobes were present and accounted for, and he realised he'd forgotten that someone else ensured all this happened behind the scenes, because a missing lobe of placenta could indicate a high risk of bleeding for the woman so the carer needed to know.

  He watched her examine the cross-section of umbilical cord to check there were two arteries and a vein. If only one artery instead of the usual two was present then the baby had an increased risk of kidney problems.

  This was like a refresher at uni, only the lecturer looked nothing like the prune he'd had for anatomy.

  Misty went back into the birth room and stripped the bed, and he helped her. Not something he usually did for the midwife, but Misty didn't seem to think it was a strange thing for him to do.

  Ben looked around. These were all new experiences and he was actually enjoying himself. 'Where's our new baby?'

  Misty looked across the room at the closed bathroom door and smiled at Ben's use of the possessive adjective. 'In the shower with Mum and Dad.'

  Ben blinked. 'All three of them?'

  'It's a big shower with two water roses.' Misty grinned at the disbelief in his voice and he tried to sound less stressed. He told himself that if he'd arrived this afternoon instead of now, then nothing would be different, except that he wouldn't have known how laid back it was here.

  His brain chanted about infant hypoglycaemia from thermal stress. 'Won't the baby get cold?' He thought he sounded quite upbeat for that one.

  She didn't quite say he was a panic merchant but the inference came through this time in her tone. 'Of course she won't. Where were you when skin-to-skin contact for the first hour of life came in? She'll be warmer against their skin than wrapped up in blankets. That's for sure.'

  He sighed. Maybe it was just him. 'I've been out of obstetrics for too long.'

  Even that admission didn't win him any points. 'Ha,' she said, as if all her suspicions had been proved correct. 'That's what I mean. This isn't obstetrics. This is normal birth. Later this year we're hoping to extend to births at home for those who want it with our midwives.'

  No way. Ben blinked. He'd never be involved in home births. 'That won't happen in a hospital system here.'

  She put her hands on her hips, and it reminded him of the day they'd first met. The day she'd scolded him for being so flippant about his life.

  Suddenly the running of this unit was infinitely less important than what he'd come there for, but she had the bit between her teeth and he doubted he could stop her even if he wanted to.

  It was amusing really how differently this woman affected him compared with anyone he'd ever known before. How she made him adjust his thinking, add shades of grey he'd never have considered because he valued her as a whole.

  Even from the brief acquaintance they had he knew on some deep inner level that Misty would change his life for ever, even if only by passing through it.

  And have a great effect on his daughter he hoped. No doubt she'd have them both fully educated before the end of Tammy's pregnancy.

  'Wrong,' she said, and he remembered he was to be lectured. Actually, he wanted to kiss her.

  'Home birth already happens in two health services that I know of. Montana and I have a friend, Mia, coming from Westside to run that side of it.'

  He nodded because he'd better look like he was listening when all he could think about was how wonderful she'd tasted the last time he'd kissed her.

  'And why not?' she said. 'Statistics prove the less intervention the better the outcome. Home birth is the norm in many countries.'

  Ben rubbed his forehead. It would be best if he took his libido for a walk and came back later. 'I'd better go and see what's happening in Casualty. Andy said he'd meet me over there if I arrived early.'

  He'd planned to broach the subject of why he was there but he was beginning to think she was deliberately directing the conversation to contentious issues between them.

  His brow furrowed. Now, why would she do that? Maybe she wasn't as transparent as he liked to think she was. What was she afraid of?

  Misty stopped and looked at him. 'Oh. OK.' She even looked slightly shamefaced at her fervour.

  What if she was just as terrified as he was at them meeting again? He felt like slapping himself on the forehead. Of course she was. He'd been so surprised at how glad he was to see her that he hadn't allowed himself to notice before. 'I think what you do here is amazing, Misty. I'm sorry I didn't get it more quickly.'

  Of course she'd need more time to acclimatise to him being there, and he needed to clarify the real reason he was there. Tammy was his reason. Maybe they both needed that clarified.

  'I'll catch you later,' he said, and as he turned to leave he couldn't resist turning back one last time. 'It's really good to see you again, Misty.' Then he forced himself to walk away.

  Misty watched him go. She should say something. There was so much unsaid between them she didn't know where to start, and she'd been gabbling about how great they were here because she'd wanted to fill the silences in case he asked her something she didn't want to answer.

  But she could have done with a few answers herself. Like where he was living and when she could expect to see him next so she could prepare herself.

  'It's nice to see you, too, Ben,' she whispered, but of course he didn't hear because he was long gone.

  She'd bombarded him with zealous comments about the unit. Driving him away intentionally?

  She thought about that explanation and maybe it was true because she really hadn't come to terms with his effect on her.

  She sighed and glanced at the door to the birth suite. Here was something she did understand and feel comfortable with. 'You all OK in there?' Misty knocked on the bathroom door.

  'Yep.' Ritchie sounded confident, finally. 'Did you want us to come out?'

  'Only when you're ready. I'll go and make us all a cup of tea and some toast.'

  * * *

  Ben didn't know what he'd expected when he'd come to Lyrebird Lake. He'd thought more about Tammy's situation and seeing if the connection was still there with Misty, in that order, rather than work, but he'd always assumed he'd manage the work side.

  It was certainly different to return to somewhere like this little casualty and birth centre. Apparently the hospital was growing busier now than it had been as more families moved into the lake area from the mine.

  Andy said he'd spend most of his days seeing out-patients, ensuring the inpatients continued to improve, and be back-up for Maternity if any patients needed transfer to the base hospital.

  Surprisingly, he had the feeling he was going to love the extra dimensions of the job. And despite the unusual first meeting this morning, the connection with Misty was still there—on his side anyway. But he needed to get over that.

  He was there for Tammy, not for a relationship with Misty—not that she'd have him anyway. He was far too set in hi
s insular lifestyle to appeal to a giving woman like her.

  His priority should be to rebuild the relationship with his stepdaughter. Misty had been right in rejecting him at the beach. Her life held merit and direction and she didn't need him and his problems.

  But in that first appraisal in the empty wing before the patient had come in, when Misty had looked up with such anxiety and even a flicker of fear of intruders, all he'd wanted to do had been to pull her into his arms and protect her. Even now he had to stop his feet from turning in her direction.

  He'd have a talk to Andy about the safeguards if some crazy did go to Maternity looking for drugs or money. Misty, and the other women, of course, needed to be safe.

  He found himself whistling. Something he hadn't done in years. It had been a great idea to come here.

  He'd needed somewhere secure to take his daughter in this crisis while she was still reeling from the implications of her pregnancy.

  He'd wondered, from the brief impression Misty had left him with, if Lyrebird Lake was the place that could help heal both of them from the damage Bridget and her mother had done.

  * * *

  By late that afternoon Cherry, Ritchie and baby Phoebe had gone home and the maternity unit was shut again.

  Misty walked across the park and up the drive to the big old doctors' house that catered for visiting staff to the hospital. She'd moved in there when she'd started work, never having intended to stay with Montana and Andy, and she loved the relaxed feel of the old house.

  The residence was run by Louisa, a round Yorkshire dumpling of a woman with merry eyes and big breasts, who'd hugged and kissed Misty's cheek at their initial meeting, and loved to spoil her.

  Ned, the other resident, while supposedly semi-retired as a GP, was a busy little Scotsman who ran a clinic every afternoon in a rundown set of consulting rooms at the end of the house.

  He hobbled a little with his stiff hip, and he and Louisa were an 'item'.

  'Good afternoon, Ned.' Misty smiled at the elderly gentleman as she arrived home.

  'Hello, there, Misty. So we've another change to the house.' Ned sat on the veranda that faced the hospital and carved a fat wombat out of driftwood with more gusto than artistry.