1001 Nights Cast

I pull over outside Annah’s house and switch off the engine. Sitting there in the hot silence, I realise I’ve hardly breathed since I got the call. The smile that has carried me all the way from the coast for the past hour now vanishes and my face hangs empty as I steel myself for what I am about to walk into. I get out of the car and stand at her front door, wanting to slip in without knocking. I want to just suddenly appear beside her in the room, knowing exactly who to be, what to do. I want to skip the arrival part and be merged into the space around her without a word. But the door is locked.

I ring the bell and wait. The door opens gently and I meet Gretel, a thirty-something Reiki healer and midwife. I focus on the small silver piercing in her nose as she whispers to me, ‘she’s doing really well,’ before leading me up the hallway. It’s a thirty-five degree day and the blinds are drawn. Everyone is sweating despite the last-minute purchase of a portable air-conditioner. Annah is on all fours in the middle of the lounge room and the two midwives, Gretel and Val, are sitting on the couch drinking tea.

Val tells the mostly female audience that there are two faces of labour. Her half-moon glasses have slipped down to the end of her nose as she delivers this wisdom and she peers across the top of them, like a headmistress who’s seen it all before and won’t take any crap. She speaks with the kind of authority that makes you feel safe whilst at the same time keeping her safer. She has the thick hands and the matter-of-fact tone of a farmer’s wife who has been delivering local babies forever. And yet I can’t help wondering as I watch her work, whether she has any children of her own.

Val is right about the faces of labour. When I arrive Annah is wearing one of them. In the middle of contractions, it’s like a thread pulled too tight across fabric, bunching up at the nose. In between, she goes somewhere else, mouth ajar, body slack and limp, like now she’s a drunk who’s fallen asleep on a bus.

‘Are you okay? Is this your first time at a birth?’ Val asks, once I am sitting beside her on the couch. Her speech is straightforward; she’s almost officious as she tells me that she’ll be there for me if I need anything and then presses her lips together and glances at her watch.

As another contraction fades, Annah looks over at me and we greet for the first time, ‘Briony’.

I squat beside her, placing one hand on her back just behind her heart. She lets her head drop. Her back, arched and strong a moment ago is now damp and pale and small.

Alex, her partner, is talking fast, pointing at the dials on the air conditioner and making something simple seem complex. He is showing me how to refill it with ice. Then he walks me through their kitchen, tells me how to make the elderberry cordial in exact proportions and points to where the straws are. He opens the freezer. His eyes dart around the kitchen, looking for other things to explain. He shows me the hot tap and the cold tap. He points to the hose, talks about the temperature of the birthing pool. He reminds me of a head chef on drugs. But I appreciate that he has defined such specific duties for me. I pour water, refill ice trays, wipe the bench and make vegemite toast for everyone while Annah swings between her faces of labour with grace and grit. I watch the midwives for cues. They hang back, hardly involved, hardly saying anything. Val casually nibbles toast and says simply, ‘It’s a good day for a baby, Annah.’

Annah reaches out for the kitchen bench, and then moves to the wall, and from the wall to the floor. In my mind I am the chanting, channelling symbol of womanhood I imagine is appropriate to the occasion. But I remain silent. I’m on the couch with the video camera, focussing on different parts of Annah’s labouring body.

Now she’s in the birthing pool and everything speeds up. One face of labour dominates—the pulled thread one—and Annah starts to push. Alex calls me over with the camera. Val kneels behind Annah. Then, after a few minutes, she steps aside and moves to the front. She looks at the camera then at me, making it clear that I must give up the camera and take her place. I kneel behind Annah with my arms hooked under her armpits but not before putting the camera on run-lock and resting it on the floor as far from the splashes as I can reach. Alex steps into the pool and prepares to catch the baby. As the head crowns and Annah gives her final push, a baby boy slides into the water like an eel. I can see it on the upturned viewfinder sliding out of frame.