The polished floor in the maternity hallway looked like a deep, dark pool as she trod silently up the hall at the start of her last shift. The door had just shut behind the evening staff and the yellow Dolphin torch in her hand shone a path of white light on the shadowed floor as she confirmed that intravenous infusions were working correctly, attended to observations that needed to be done, and checked on sleeping mums and babies. She liked the serenity of night on the ward, be it sensible or dramatic like it had been the first night with Zac.

Zac. She smiled to herself.

A baby’s wail drifted towards her and a call bell pinged from one of the mothers on the ward. She moved swiftly down the dim corridor, humming softly. She also loved it when the maternity ward enjoyed a rush of babies.

Every room had a mum and baby tonight – even the two- and four-bed wards were full – which meant the chances of sitting down would be slim, but the night would fly as new mums soaked in the secrets of the night and were initiated into the realm of snatching sleep between feeds.

She’d met some of these mums earlier when she’d visited them in the Indigenous communities hundreds of miles in all directions from Alice Springs. Outreach midwifery visits meant Ava connected with women on their country, answering their questions, sharing advice. She also carried a heart-rate doppler to listen to the unborn babies, measuring tapes to measure bellies and babies’ growth, blood-pressure machines and tools to take pathology specimens to send back to Alice Springs.

For the mums, it meant they could cut down on travel hours to see their doctor or midwife. When they did have to come into town, they would hopefully see the midwife they’d met on their home ground if she was back in her rotation in Alice. Or, if an illness or complication cropped up during the pregnancy, they would come into Alice early and be admitted to wait on the ward or in the accommodation near the hospital, and Ava or one of her colleagues would see them there.

Often, the trip to the hospital a couple of weeks before the birth meant a poignant wave to the woman’s family and a lonely outback bus ride that would take hours to reach Alice Springs – so the idea that the women would know their midwife was a reassuring one.

Sharing the births of the outreach patients, and the connection she felt with these strong Indigenous women, represented everything Ava had moved into midwifery for. The births were gentle, often with older wise aunties or grandmothers in attendance. What’s more, the deliveries were unhurried and driven by the mother’s wishes for how she wanted to birth, despite having to travel to Alice Springs and waiting there for the day to arrive.