Wisdom in birth
Written by
Luna Sol Birth Work
11.11.25
Faith and Action: A Reflection for Birth Workers
(By Lauren of Luna Sol Birth Work)
I’ve been sitting with this lately — the gap between faith and action, between witnessing and doing, between reverence and responsibility.
In the medical industrial complex, we see the over-doing: constant intervention, manipulation, coercion, and a lack of trust in the birthing body. The system itself is a machine of control and standardization. We all know this. I’ve seen a healthy woman go into labor, be told what to do, ignored when she said “no,” until her body gave up — and then they “saved” her from a situation they created. It’s devastating.
But I’ve also seen the opposite. The “trust your body,” “rest and breathe,” “hands-off” philosophy applied like a blanket over everything — even when the energy begged for movement. So far into faith and stillness that we sometimes forget what our hands, instincts, and energy are for.
I’ve witnessed “guidance” where faith became paralysis — where reverence for nature meant no one stepped in to shift the energy when it started to spiral. I say this with love, not blame, because I have been that doula before.
I’ve watched exhaustion overtake a mother while everyone else stayed quiet, silently giving up and calling it trust. I’ve seen the difference between surrender and defeat, and I can tell you — they do not look the same.
One mother labored for thirty hours at home. She was told to relax, rest, breathe, and trust the process. But her body was calling out for change, for expansion, for *something—anything—*different. One centimeter. Baby asynclitic. Contractions chaotic. My instincts said we needed to move, to shift, to do something — but I stayed quiet. I deferred to the provider. I didn’t follow what I felt. I gave too much faith — and not to the right source. Not to instinct. Not to the mother. And definitely not enough action.
Faith without action can become neglect. Action without faith can become control. Birth asks us to hold both.
I learned from that experience that being “hands-off” or sitting back to witness isn’t always holy — sometimes it’s avoidance.
Since then, I’ve shifted. I turned toward deeper education and embodied learning. I dove into the energetics of birth — the veil we cross with the families we serve — and how to hold that sacred container. I focus on presence before movement, but I no longer hesitate when movement is needed. I hum, sway, breathe, and listen. I guide. I respond. I attune to the mother’s breath, her muscle tone, her tension, her voice. Are her eyes open, closed, clenched, soft?
The magic is in the balance — in the space where faith meets action, stillness meets movement, and witnessing meets guidance.
At my next birth, it came full circle. Another long labor. Another asynclitic baby. Exhaustion. Irregularity. Hip pain. Vomiting. Defeat. Three centimeters and talk of a hospital transfer. This time, I followed the energy. I released my fear of overstepping and the ghosts of previous births. I offered gentle, informed guidance — movement, inversions, Rebozo work, asymmetrical positioning, intimacy with her partner, touch, water, laughter, observation. Four hours later, she was pushing. Thirty minutes after that, her baby was born. No transfer. No fear. Just flow.
Holding the energetic field isn’t passive. It’s not just lighting candles and humming softly (though sometimes it is that, too). It’s the art of staying attuned enough to feel when the air in the room shifts — when fear creeps in, when a provider’s tone sharpens, when the mother’s energy collapses inward instead of opening outward. It’s about knowing when to sit back and when to rise.
Sometimes that means standing between her and the provider — not to create conflict, but to create a pause. To slow the flood of medical language so she can breathe and come back to herself. Sometimes it’s quietly re-anchoring the energy in the room with your voice, your breath, your movement. Sometimes it’s asking the hard question no one else will ask, or reminding the team that there is still another way.
That’s the work. That’s guidance.
Guidance isn’t about authority or leadership — it’s about service. It’s about listening deeply enough to know what the moment actually needs, and then having the courage to move when it’s time. To be creative. To step outside the “normal” birthing process when the field is calling for something different.
Because the truth is, if we reject the medical industrial complex for standardizing all births, we must also examine what happens when “trust birth” becomes its own kind of standardization. Yes — trust birth — but that isn’t the end of the line. We can’t afford to swing between extremes anymore. These families deserve better. We must question where our faith has become ideology instead of intuition.
The balance lives in that sacred in-between: faith and action, stillness and movement, witnessing and guiding.
To hold the energetic field is to stay awake — to trust that your presence, discernment, voice, and creativity are sacred tools, not intrusions.
We owe it to the mothers we serve to keep learning when to step back and when to rise. To stay humble. To stay brave. To stay curious enough to ask: What does she need right now — in her body, in her spirit, in this moment?
Our clients deserve our full presence.
Our continued education.
Our humility and our courage.
They deserve to birth surrounded by people who can sense, see, and respond with integrity — people who don’t rest on their laurels or their ideology. People who know how to walk that razor’s edge between surrender and guidance.
We are not saviors.
We are not spectators.
We are witnesses — sacred, intentional, and human.
So I leave you with this…
How do we hold and help guide the energetic field? What does it mean to stay in the field instead of managing it?
Do we even consider it part of our job?
How much of this work is doing — and how much is witnessing?
What is too much? What is too little?
When have I chosen faith over action — and what did it teach me?
When have I acted too quickly — and what was I trying to control?
How can I learn to sense when the energy calls for stillness versus movement?
How can I honor and respect the providers I work with while still protecting the client’s autonomy?
What creative tools can I bring forward when a situation falls outside the “normal” process?
How do I make space for both reverence and responsibility — for the sacred and the skillful — in every birth I attend?
10.02.24
The Maternal Health Crisis: Where We Stand and How We Move Forward
In recent years, the state of maternal health in the U.S. has come under increasing scrutiny. Despite living in one of the most advanced countries in the world, we’re seeing troubling statistics and even more troubling stories of birthing individuals suffering through preventable complications, inadequate care, and devastating outcomes. As someone who navigated the medical system during my own pregnancy, and now as a birth doula working in the heart of Los Angeles, I’ve come to see the gaps between the care we’re being given and the care we deserve.
The Crisis at Hand: Why Are Maternal Outcomes in the U.S. So Poor?
The U.S. is currently grappling with a maternal health crisis that leaves us far behind many other developed nations. While we have the technology, advanced medical procedures, and access to healthcare on paper, we’re seeing rising rates of maternal mortality, particularly among Black women. In fact, Black women in the U.S. are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than their white counterparts. And that disparity doesn’t stop at the delivery room—it extends into postpartum care, where women report being dismissed or not taken seriously by their providers, often with tragic outcomes.
The question is, why?
The root causes are complex, involving systemic issues within our healthcare system, a lack of individualized care, socioeconomic factors, and a heavy reliance on medical interventions over holistic, evidence-based prenatal and birth care. Too often, care providers treat birth as a condition that needs to be managed, and the focus becomes more about minimizing liability than empowering the birthing person. The standardized, one-size-fits-all approach fails to address the unique needs of each individual—physically, emotionally, and mentally.
The Role of Politics in Maternal Healthcare
Politics, while a difficult subject to navigate, undeniably plays a role in the maternal health crisis. We’ve seen policy decisions, like the rollback of reproductive rights, that have added barriers for many women to access prenatal care or make informed choices about their pregnancies. At the same time, there’s a shortage of midwives and a disconnect between hospitals and community-based care providers, which could offer more personalized support.
The issue of Medicaid coverage and healthcare access is another significant barrier. In many states, Medicaid stops covering postpartum care after 60 days, leaving new mothers—especially those from marginalized communities—without the care they need during one of the most vulnerable periods of their lives. Efforts have been made to extend Medicaid coverage to a full year postpartum, and while some states have adopted this, many have not. This lack of continuity in care is detrimental to maternal health, and it’s an area where we can and should be pushing for change.
What’s Working: The Power of Individualized Care and Birth Workers
Within the birth worker community—midwives, doulas, childbirth educators—we are witnessing a different reality. Through individualized care, we see better outcomes, healthier pregnancies, and more empowered birthing experiences. The difference is in the details: building trust with the birthing person, focusing on their physical, mental, and emotional well-being, and respecting their choices at every stage of the process.
This approach works because it prioritizes the birthing person’s needs. We recognize that no two pregnancies, births, or postpartum experiences are the same. We teach that birth is a physiological process, not something to be managed with excessive interventions unless absolutely necessary. And we focus on nutrition, mental health, and lifestyle—because when the whole person is supported, the outcomes are better.
Evidence backs up this holistic approach. Studies show that continuous support during labor—whether from a doula or a midwife—leads to shorter labors, fewer cesarean sections, and more satisfying birth experiences overall. When the birthing person feels safe, heard, and respected, they are less likely to experience complications or traumatic birth outcomes.
What About High-Risk Pregnancies?
For some individuals, particularly those with high-risk pregnancies, the option of home birth midwifery may not be available or advisable. This is where the standard medical system is essential, offering access to interventions that are truly life-saving for both parent and baby. But even in a high-risk situation, there is still room for personalized care and empowerment.
High-risk doesn’t mean you have to relinquish all control over your birth experience. You can still be an active participant in your care. A midwife, doula, or a supportive OB-GYN can help you navigate your options and create a birth plan that works within the boundaries of your health while respecting your autonomy. The key is open, ongoing communication and finding a care provider who listens and works with you rather than for you.
Addressing the Fear-Based Approach to Pregnancy
Unfortunately, many birthing people are led to fear their pregnancies, particularly in medical settings. They’re often told about the risks, the dangers, and all the things that could go wrong, which breeds a sense of anxiety rather than empowerment. This fear can lead to a "fawning" response, where the individual defers entirely to the provider, trusting the system over their own body and instincts.
This fear-based approach is perpetuated by a medical model that emphasizes intervention over trust in the natural process of birth. Too many birthing people are led to believe that their bodies are unpredictable or incapable without medical management. As a result, they lose faith in themselves and their ability to birth.
But here’s the truth: the body knows what to do. While there are always exceptions, the vast majority of pregnancies are healthy and low-risk. The key is to find the right support system—one that encourages you to listen to your body, stay informed about your choices, and feel empowered to advocate for yourself.
A good childbirth education course, access to midwifery care, or hiring a doula are all ways to help overcome that fear. These options focus on knowledge, choice, and support, teaching birthing people about the physiological process of labor, ways to cope with discomfort, and how to advocate for their needs in a medical setting. The more you know, the more empowered you’ll feel, even if your pregnancy becomes medically complex.
What Needs to Change
There’s no single solution to the maternal health crisis. But several areas need immediate attention if we’re going to improve outcomes for birthing individuals across the country.
First, we need to expand access to midwifery care and doula support. States that have done this, like Washington, have seen much better outcomes. This should go hand-in-hand with increasing Medicaid coverage and ensuring that postpartum care extends beyond the immediate recovery from childbirth. A full year of postpartum care should be standard, not a luxury.
Next, we must push for more individualized care within the medical system. This means training doctors, nurses, and other care providers to see birthing individuals as whole people with unique needs, rather than as patients to be managed according to a standardized checklist. It also means addressing implicit bias within the healthcare system, particularly as it impacts Black women and other marginalized groups.
Lastly, education is key. Birthing individuals need access to evidence-based childbirth education, focused on the physiological process of birth and the choices they have available to them. We need to move away from fear-based models of care and instead empower women with knowledge and the ability to make informed decisions about their own bodies.
A New Vision for Maternal Healthcare
The maternal health crisis may seem overwhelming, but there are reasons to be hopeful. Across the country, we’re seeing more birthing people opt for midwives, hire doulas, and educate themselves on their options. We’re seeing community-based care models that are driven by compassion and evidence-based practices, offering a blueprint for what maternity care can and should look like.
It’s time for a shift. We need to embrace a model of care that sees the whole person, empowers them with choices, and supports them with the resources they need for a healthy pregnancy, birth, and postpartum period. We need policies that protect and uplift birthing people, ensuring that no one is left behind in the most vulnerable moments of their lives.
I come from a small town, where a lot of that 'hoodoo-voodoo,' as they like to call it, gets passed off as outdated or unscientific. But what I’ve learned is that a balance between tradition and modernity, intuition and evidence, is not only possible—it’s necessary. And as a young dreamer living in the city, now mother, that balance is what brought me into birth work and what drives my passion for advocating for better care, better outcomes, and most of all, better support for every birthing person.
The journey to change is long, but with the strength of our community, our birth workers, and the evidence behind us, I believe we can create a better future for maternal health in this country.