If you’re here, reading this, chances are you feel some kind of pull toward birth work. Maybe you’re already a midwife. Maybe you’re thinking about becoming one. Or maybe you’re just fascinated by birth, by women’s power, by the ways we can show up for each other in these most intimate and transformative moments.

That pull? That curiosity? It matters.

And if you’re anything like me, it’s probably been there for a long time.

The Seed of a Calling

Looking back, I can see the threads of my journey to midwifery woven through my entire life. As a child, I was always trying to figure out how to make the world a better place—how to be of service in a way that mattered. I had big ideas, big opinions, and a deep desire to help women. But I didn’t know birth work was an option. No one had told me that midwifery could be a path to changing the world.

Instead, I threw myself into feminism and activism. In high school, I was knocking on doors for political campaigns and giving speeches about the war. In college, I studied Women’s and Gender Studies, eager to dissect the ways patriarchy shaped the world—but not once did my courses include birth, mothering, or breastfeeding. The very experiences that shape so many women’s lives were absent from the conversation.

A Radical Shift

For a while, I thought I’d work in policy, advocating for victims of domestic violence. I interned with experts, sat on a fatality review board, and considered a future in Washington, D.C. I was in the middle of my first semester in grad school studying criminology, but something wasn’t clicking. The work was heavy, and I struggled to see how I was making a real difference on the ground. I wanted to empower women, but policy felt too removed from real life.

Then, one day, I Googled “how to become a doula.” And just like that, the floodgates opened.

I checked out every book on birth I could find. I devoured Spiritual Midwifery. I knew, without a doubt, that this was it. I wasn’t going to be a nurse. I wasn’t going to fit into some system that told women what they could or couldn’t do with their bodies. I wanted to be a midwife.

The Moment That Changed Everything

And then, the moment of divine intervention — one that makes me believe that when we are open to our calling, the path unfolds before us. I literally ran into a friend, a woman whose children I babysat somewhat regularly. I told her I thought I wanted to be a midwife, and she said, “Oh!!! You should meet my midwife.”

That midwife was Maryn.

I went home, Googled her, and saw her logo: a red woman’s symbol, almost identical to the tattoo I had gotten on my arm eight months earlier. Full-body chills. I reached out, and a week later, we met. Two months later, I started apprenticing with her.

Finding My Path

From the start, I knew I didn’t want a license. Before I had even attended a birth, I knew I didn’t want the state to dictate how I would serve women. I didn’t know all the politics of midwifery yet, but my instincts told me that autonomy mattered. And my apprenticeship only confirmed that over and over again.

The first time Maryn got reported was for a VBAC — just months into my apprenticeship. That moment, when the system tried to step in and control what women could do with their own bodies, solidified my path. This was about more than birth. It was about power. About control. About standing beside women in their most sacred moments and saying, you get to decide.

Birth Work as Activism

To me, midwifery is inherently political. Not in the shallow, performative way we see so often in the mainstream, but in the radical way that says: Women deserve autonomy. Women deserve respect. Women deserve birth experiences that empower them, not break them.

That’s why I’ve spent my career not just catching babies, but educating, speaking, and creating spaces where women can reconnect with their power. I’ve hosted over 25 free community birth workshops in my town. I’ve taught at high schools and colleges. I’ve trained doulas and midwives who have gone on to serve their own communities. And I will keep going, because the work is far from done.

Your Calling, Your Path

If you feel that pull toward birth work—listen. Take a step, even a small one. Read a book. Sign up for a course. Attend a birth circle. Share your story with someone.

You never know where that first step will lead. When I sat down with Spiritual Midwifery for the first time, I never imagined I would one day run a midwifery school, train birth workers, and build a life around this calling. But that’s the beauty of following your path—it takes you places you never could have planned.

So, I leave you with this: What’s one step you can take today?

Let me know in the comments. Let’s build this movement, together.