My first child was born in the hospital, using Lamaze techniques to relax and breathe. By the standards of modern "prepared childbirth" the experience was a glowing success, yet, I couldn't shake the feeling I'd missed something. My shaky marriage of two years dissolved within the first month after the birth and I found myself and my lovely nursing baby alone together in an apartment in my former home town.

I soon discovered that the couple next door was expecting a baby and intending to have it at home. We shared books on birth and cups of tea and I became absolutely convinced that birth at home was the natural culmination of a healthy pregnancy.

Five years later I met my partner, Paul, in a moment of truly instant recognition. Together we bought land in the Oregon mountains and the three of us set to work digging a garden and raising a small cabin. A year later I became pregnant with Quail.

In the years since Meagan's birth I had collected several books on midwifery and alternatives in childbirth. We studied these and laid in a few supplies.

On the first cool day after a summer-long drought Quail was born into her father's hands. I was on my hands and knees as her head emerged. It still fills my heart to remember Paul's quiet words of welcome and her cooed response even before her body slipped out.

We emerged from birth with a heightened sense of commitment to each other and the children. I felt more comfortable in my body than I ever had before. Paul had acknowledged and lovingly dealt with all of the body functions which are part of the birthing process. We were bonded to one another through that patient caring.

Two years later Breeze was born to us in the quiet darkness of a September night. Labor was short and intense. I needed to feel Paul's hands on me, pressing on my back. Though the back labor was painful, I enjoyed the precision of our working those contractions together! Our son was born easily and when Paul said that the cord was around his neck, I eased it over his shoulders with my own hands.

The joyful bonding began again: Meagan holding him and gazing into his big deep eyes, Quail peeking over the edge of the loft and coming downstairs when his first cries woke her, and Paul and I enclosing us all with love.