I went into labor after dinner on a windy night in March. I stood in my living room, watching through the front window as the sunset covered the city. The first phone call I made was to a friend, asking her to come take care of my three-year-old son. I then went up to my bedroom, walking slowly as the contractions got stronger. I soon decided to sit on the toilet, where I knew it would be easier to let go to each contraction as it came like a wave through my body.

    When I was sure that the labor was really underway, I called my two midwives, then went back to the bathroom. Each time a contraction came I visualized my body opening, making room to let my baby move down. When my midwives arrived they listened to the baby's heartbeat (strong and steady) and held warm, wet towels on my hips, where the pressure from the contractions was the most intense. I soon felt a bulging, and as I stood my water bag broke. I stepped away from the toilet, and got down on the floor on my knees. One midwife supported me from behind, the other kneeled in front of me. As I pushed, I put my hand on the emerging baby's head. My son came in to watch, standing by his father. Within a few minutes my daughter slipped into my own hands, into my own arms, into the world. The midwives covered her with a warm towel.

    I am a midwife, and I bring the memory of my own births with me each time I assist another woman through the birthing process. I remember the incredible feeling of power in following my body's lead, in knowing afterward that I had done something truly amazing by birthing my daughter into my own arms. And just as my daughter's birth was unequivocally my own, so I hope that each woman will claim labor and birth as her own special rite of passage into motherhood, and will say with pride, "I did it! I am so strong!"

    My role as a midwife is that of facilitator and educator as much as care provider. I guide women through an examination of their beliefs about birth, about the role of technology and medicine in childbearing, and of their trust in their own innate wisdom to birth. My work throughout the pregnancy entails constantly bringing assumptions to light, supplying them with information so they can make the choices that are appropriate to their own unique, individual circumstances.

    On a practical level this means that more time is spent "talking" than "doing" during each prenatal visit. A woman's past births are discussed in detail; we may discuss her mother's attitudes about birth, or any beliefs regarding pregnancy that were passed down in her family. A healthy pregnancy is most directly related to how a woman cares for herself, therefore nutrition and exercise as well as any other lifestyle factors are reviewed and recommendations made. Normalcy is evaluated in the context of this woman as an individual, not according to any arbitrary standard.

    Underlying midwifery care is the assumption that pregnancy and birth are normal life processes, and, most importantly, that women retain responsibility for their decisions. This means that options (and information) are offered at every turn. For example, if a woman is anemic, she is advised that she can add iron-rich foods to her diet (and we look together at which foods these might be), take iron-boosting herbs (again, with information as to which these are), or add iron supplements. The responsibility for both the actions and outcome is hers. Furthermore, my job as a midwife is to ensure that she makes her choice based on information regarding both the physiology of anemia in pregnancy and the effectiveness of all treatment methods. This same philosophy of education and responsibility applies for decisions made throughout the pregnancy and birth, from prenatal testing to positions for delivery to newborn care.

    Taking responsibility during pregnancy paves the way for taking responsibility in birth. And more than just taking responsibility, the woman in midwifery care is encouraged to make the birth her own. I know I've done my job well if my main role during the birth is that of quiet support. One midwife friend of mine summed it up when she said that the more births she goes to, the more she sits on her hands. Not to say that she (or I) won't take action if necessary - indeed, midwives are skilled at detecting and dealing with problems, and are trained to act in emergencies - but she knows that birth is least complicated when left to unfold in its own unique pattern.

    It is not my intent to tell anyone the right way to birth or the right place to have a baby. But I know that for myself, and for hundreds of women I have had the honor of working with, birth at home, with midwives, in the presence of chosen family and friends, is the right way to welcome a new life.