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Ring, ring, the quiet, early Sunday morning hours are interrupted by the shrill insistent voice of the telephone demanding an answer.
"Hello"...sleepy voice mumbles. "It's time"...the anxious male voice on the other end of the phone says in a whisper.

I pull on my jeans, discarded the evening before, and hurriedly grab my yellow T-shirt from the basket of clothes waiting to be ironed. I gather up my belongings, grab my keys and rush to the car. One and one quarter hours along the highway, all kinds of thoughts race through my brain. Will everything be all right? My lips move in prayer saying the mantra imprinted on my mind, never forgotten. The repetition of the chant of childhood relaxes me as I drive toward the city. Blessed art thou among women, blessed is the fruit of thy womb.

I reach my destination, a flat in an older style building on the south side of the city. I climb the stairs, holding my breath as I knock and wait for the door to be opened. This decision these two have made has not been made lightly and I must respect them for this. Misgivings I hold within my heart, I must not convey the trepidation I feel.

The door opens, I am welcomed inside by a young woman with bright pink hair. I join the man and the women in the room. A tall young woman with dark hair is in the centre of the room on the beanbag which is covered with clean white sheets, her face is clearly showing the strain of the hard work she has been doing. The man, tall and thin lacks his usual laconic composure, he is distracted and seems overwhelmed by the situation. There are four women in the room, the pink haired one, two fair-haired women one of whom I know from another occasion similar to this, and the little one with dark hair. The fair-haired women are the professionals - the ones in charge, ready for any development but we are all here to work together, to support each other in a ritual as old as time. The man is crooning a gentle song of his own making, haunting almost hypnotic. I have never hear him sing before.

"Hello Mum,well this is it," my daughter smiles (a little). Her sister, who has been here for many hours to help with the task ahead, tells me to behave myself and to help wring hot water from the towels, which we then place around the young woman to help ease her pain. The phone rings, I answer it, "Mum! What are you doing there? When is this baby of Megs due?" says the young man. "How about now son!" I answer.

Hours pass and all our emotions unite to lift her spirits - midwives, husband, dear friend, mother and sister loving her as she brings the new life into the world. Into his father's arms he slips, filling an emptiness he never knew was there, as Mik writes later in his own sweet tribute to this moment - Catching Jack.

My grandson Jack has arrived!!! Long and slender - like his father. Blue eyed - like his mother (I know! I know! all babies have blue eyes.) Tears of happiness, relief, exhaustion splash down my cheeks. The midwives place Jack in his mother's arms for a moment. The cord that has been the physical connection between mother and child sustaining life is severed and is replaced by a stronger, invisible cord that will never be cut - the bond of family. The new father holds his son wrapped in a sheet and you know that Mik will hold this moment forever in this heart.

The fair-haired women don the headdresses of colourful ribbons and stars Meagan has given them to wear in celebration.

Alanna opens the veranda window and calls loudly to people walking on the street below; "We've just had a baby! A beautiful baby boy!" Some people look up and smile, others just keep walking, what do they care that a miracle has just happened.

Meagan is showered and dressed then brought to her freshly made bed to rest. Alanna and I sit alongside her on the bed. The midwives bring a basin of water and the soft towels that Meagan has prepared for this moment and they say; "Would you like to give him his first bath?". Between us, her sister and I bathe his darling body and gently dress him in the clothes his mother has chosen for him. This circle of women, three mothers sharing this beautiful unforgettable moment give thanks that loves high harvest day is over.

The doorbell rings many times this Sunday afternoon, Grandma, Grandpa and Patsy, and Pardy arrive to meet Jack Melvin Trevor.

Monday morning, feet back on the ground, I arrive at my workplace;

"Did you do anything exciting this weekend Julia?"

"My daughter and her partner had a baby boy yesterday, I was there, he was born at home you know."