Midwifery is not just broken; it is a mirror reflecting the dysfunction of our collective worldview. This is where I have found myself the last few years as I searched my inner landscape, trying to make sense of the impossible expectations placed on midwives and the women they serve.

I don’t want this to seem like a rant, or a pessimistic burned-out wail into the void. Instead, it is the result of years of sitting with the uncomfortable truth that took root and has shaped my understanding of this work ever since.

One of the most pivotal moments for me was attending a birth where, despite every effort, the baby did not survive. That experience, and the grief and self-examination that followed, became a turning point, not only in my career but in my heart. It crystallized what I had been grappling with for years: the impossibility of practicing midwifery within a culture that refuses to confront its illusions about control, nature, and death.

Until midwives can consistently experience safety in their bodies, midwifery is going to continue to go extinct. This is a cultural shift that has to happen, which is why I’ve stopped practicing (at least for now) and am focusing my efforts on creating cultural-level change—on women taking responsibility and healing our collective relationship with power, birth, life, and death.

We are on a train track toward complete domination and attempted control of birth, driven by fear of litigation, backlash, and blame. Providers are being squeezed into ever-narrower protocol boxes and checklists, heading toward an era of automated, algorithmic, AI-driven birth decision-making. And the majority of women, as far as I can tell, aren’t going to resist.

But this is not the whole story. Amidst this harsh reality, I have always known there is another way forward— a more beautiful midwifery that we know is possible. This vision feels almost like a memory, an ancestral echo calling us back (or forward into the future???) to something more expansive, more sacred, and more human.

To imagine this future, we must start by asking: What does it mean to be a midwife? When I first stepped into this work, I thought being a midwife meant attending births and sticking it to the system by giving women better outcomes and experiences at home. That perspective was shaped by books like Spiritual Midwifery, which painted a romanticized vision of countercultural birth work. It was sweet, and it was naive. Over time, my understanding of midwifery deepened and shifted.

Midwifery, at its core, is about so much more than physical outcomes. It’s about transformation, connection, and healing. It’s about reflecting back a woman’s power and offering her the resources and support to access her healthiest, most powerful self – not just through pregnancy and birth, but throughout her life. Midwives have historically been witnesses and guides, helping communities navigate not only birth but the broader cycles of life and death.

This vision of midwifery requires us to expand beyond the narrow frameworks we’ve been handed. The binary of home versus hospital, licensed versus unlicensed, midwife versus obstetrician—these categories are insufficient. Instead, we need to embrace a broader, more integrative model that includes the physical, emotional, and spiritual dimensions of care. This is a midwifery rooted in reciprocity, abundance, and community.

I imagine a world where midwives are not constrained by outdated systems but are empowered to work fluidly across all settings — at home, in hospitals, and beyond, in models and systems that haven’t even been invented yet perhaps. I imagine midwives equipped not only with clinical skills but also with tools like parts work, shamanic practices, and pre-colonial medicine ways. These modalities would help women explore their inner worlds, access their own power, and navigate the sacred transformations of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum.

This vision is big, expansive, and deeply hopeful. It is also a long way from where we are now. To get there, we must begin with the work of looking inward — reckoning with our stories and beliefs, untangling the narratives that keep us sick and small, and reimagining what it means to live in right relationship with ourselves, each other, and the natural world.

Midwifery has the potential to be a revolutionary force, not just for birth but for how we live as human beings. By healing women, we heal families, communities, and the earth itself. But to harness this potential, we must radically transform the systems, beliefs, and practices that currently define midwifery. This work will not be easy, but it is necessary.

Unless we collectively decide to do this work, midwifery will remain trapped in dysfunction. But if we do — if we take even small steps toward this more beautiful vision — I know that we can create something extraordinary. And perhaps, 500 years from now, the more beautiful midwifery I know is possible may become a reality. Perhaps midwifery will be a sacred, life-affirming art that honors the profound power of birth and the women who carry it forward.