
Three midwives, a doula, a lactation consultant, home visits and clinic days — and calls that come when they come. Stella answers every one warmly, books antenatal visits by pregnancy week, reminds, reschedules, and puts a caller through to the on-call midwife when it can't wait.
Good morning, Willowbrook Midwives, this is Stella — how can I help you?
It's not that you need another maternity module. Someone has to pick up — at 6:50, warmly — know who's where, and keep the schedule counted in weeks.
Stranger's number: warm, unhurried, no pointed questions. A booking visit, the schedule counted from her dates, and the on-call number if anything can't wait.
The universal six, and two that matter when the schedule is a pregnancy and the calls come at any hour.
No menus, no “press one”, no hold music, no disclaimer wall. Place, first name, how can I help — in one breath. Then she listens instead of interrogating. And she's there at 7:40 in the morning and 9 at night — when the parent thinks of it, not when you open.
She searches actual availability — who is where, doing what, for how long, in which chair or room — and never double-books. If she offers 2:20, 2:20 is free.
Reminders go out ahead of time. When someone can't make it, she handles the flustered call with warmth and finds the next time without drama.
A cancelled four o'clock is the one slot you can't sell tomorrow. The moment it frees, she offers it — by text — to the people who've said they'd take short notice, who wanted earlier, or who owe a make-up. First yes takes it; nobody else hears about it.
A four o'clock cancels? She asks the five o'clock if they'd like to come earlier. Nobody is obliged, and it cascades — you finish at five, not six.
Someone turns down a 9am; she stops leading with mornings for them. Preferences, never rules — and when she checks, she uses very few words.
Booking visit, 12, 16, 20, 24, 28, 31, 34, 36, 38, 40 — projected from the mother's dates, with the right midwife at the right place. Move one and the rest keep their spacing. Postnatal and lactation visits ride the same rhythm.
The first call and the worried call both come at odd hours. She answers warmly, never triages a stranger coldly, and if it can't wait she offers the on-call midwife — the caller decides. Ask, and she'll tell you plainly she's the assistant.
She takes the cancellation the moment it comes, whatever the hour — nobody waits for the desk to open. Runway is money: the earlier she knows, the more people she can offer the slot to once your outbound hours open, and the likelier it fills. Your policy — notice period, deposit, fee — is yours; she states it plainly, applies it the same way every time, and stays kind about it.
Everyone on the short-notice list asked to be on it. Nobody is nagged; nobody hears another client's business.
Rain, a burst pipe, a birth, the autoclave, the hall double-booked — the whole block moves, and it's your call, not the client's. You say it once; she works out who's affected, offers each person the right alternative in their own words, waives the fee, logs the reason, and reports back. When it's an overrun rather than a closure she works by who can still act: the people who haven't left home yet get the call and the choice; the people already in the room get the honest ETA and a coffee; nobody further out is touched until the delay is still growing. Nobody hears why; nobody rings the desk.
I've been called to a birth. Clear my clinic morning — Ines takes the 28-weeks, the rest to Thursday, and tell them warmly.
The antenatal schedule is a standing arrangement whose spacing is set by week of pregnancy. It projects from the mother's dates, names the midwife and the place for each visit, and re-spaces itself when one visit moves.
The first call comes at ten to seven, from someone who's just found out. It should be answered like good news.
A panel at the clinic and each midwife's own day on her phone: who's next, where, what changed. One button to say “move Ruth to Friday.” Reps and scam calls never reach a midwife on a visit.
Nothing clinical on the panel — first names, weeks and times. Your notes stay where they are.
No “press one”. No “your call is important to us”. No recorded disclaimers before a human word. Warm, short, present — and honest if you ask what she is.
She offers what's in your catalogue and staff profiles. She won't crown a “best” anyone or promise an outcome. A time she offers is a time that's free.
A moved client hears “we need to move your Tuesday — let me find you another time.” Never who, never why. And once moved kindly, they're not yo-yo'd back.
She doesn't lead with it and doesn't apologise for it. Ask, and she'll tell you plainly: she's the assistant. She helps; that's what people remember.
Your midwives and where they are on which day — clinic and home —, your visit schedule, your on-call rota, your words. She's configured by hand for the first practices — a few at a time — and this one with particular care.
Stella is in early access with a small number of practices and salons. Tell us about your phone and we'll tell you plainly whether she fits — and when.