Birth is an intimate, private, and profoundly sacred experience—for the mother, for the father, and for the family as a whole. Inviting someone into that space is a weighty choice, one I believe should be made prayerfully, without fear, and with a deep, unmistakable “full body yes.”

When I attend a birth, my role is simple: I tend the hearth so the mother can fully surrender to the work of birth.

I am not a medical professional. I will not assess you, chart your progress, schedule heart-tone checks, perform cervical exams, or place your labor on an arbitrary timeline. You are free to assess yourself if you wish—but my purpose is not to manage your birth, it is to protect its unfolding.

Instead, I am present in quieter, older ways—watching, listening, praying, singing, offering intentional touch, and keeping the space warm, peaceful, and aligned with the rhythm of an undisturbed, physiological birth.

You might picture the old-time granny wise woman—quietly knitting in the corner (yes, I do knit), speaking words of truth and encouragement, tidying up after the work is done, and gently tending to what is needed without disrupting the flow. My hands, my voice, and my presence are there to honor God through birth.