How I came to this work

I was raised in and around the medical system from a young age, learning early what it means to be closely monitored but not truly seen — treated as a diagnosis rather than a whole person. Those experiences shaped how I practice now: slowly, deliberately, and with deep listening at the center.

Before midwifery, I worked full-time as a massage therapist. My hands were trained not just in technique, but in attention. That work taught me that the body holds memory, that healing is never one-size-fits-all, and that presence matters more than performance. My path into birthwork deepened through my own reproductive experiences — giving birth to my daughter, and later navigating abortion. Those moments revealed how often people move through pregnancy, loss, and transition inside systems that rush, dismiss, or assume.

I became a doula believing that information alone could protect people. If clients just knew more, harm could be avoided. Over time, I learned the truth: knowledge matters, but it is not enough. The larger issue is the system itself — one that too often fails to offer time, dignity, or care rooted in relationship.

Midwifery met me there — at the intersection of personal experience, collective harm, and dreams of what care can be. It wasn’t just a career choice. It was a calling. A lineage returned to. A practice grounded in liberation and responsibility.

Honoring the Grand Midwives & Our Ancestral Mothers

My work is guided by the legacy of the Black grand midwives — community healers who caught generations of babies across the U.S. South and shaped what community-based birth care looks like today. Though many were pushed out by regulation and erasure, their wisdom lives on in every home visit, every pause before touch, every breath taken in reverence.

I also honor the ancestral mothers — those who carried us in prayer long before we arrived. The ones who whispered protection into the womb, who nurtured through song, gaze, and quiet knowing. Their memory lives in our bodies. Their love moves through this work.

This is not new.
We’ve always had us.

Why Sunfolk Midwifery

I created Sunfolk Midwifery because I believe everyone deserves relationship-based, respectful midwifery care — especially those who have been unseen, rushed, or dismissed within the medical system.

As a home birth midwife serving Las Vegas and surrounding communities, I work with families seeking care that feels grounded, human, and intentional. Many of my clients are Black or Brown, queer, fat, neurodivergent, or navigating pregnancy after previous harm. Some are planning their first home birth. Others are choosing midwifery care after hospital experiences that didn’t feel supportive or safe.

All families are welcome at Sunfolk. My practice is designed with Black and Brown families and queer communities at the center, offering culturally responsive care rooted in autonomy, consent, and deep listening.

If you’ve ever wondered whether this kind of care is “for you,” let me say it plainly:
You belong here.

Land Acknowledgment

Sunfolk Midwifery operates on the ancestral and unceded lands of the Southern Paiute people (Nuwuvi).

I honor the Nuwuvi as the original stewards of this land — land that holds memory, ceremony, and care that long predates colonial borders. The ongoing impacts of settler colonialism continue to shape how land, bodies, and birth are regulated today.

This acknowledgment is not a substitute for reparative action. It is a starting point — a commitment to being in right relationship with the land and the Indigenous people who continue to live, organize, and care for the community here.

Learn more or offer direct support:

• https://www.southernpaiute.net/

• https://www.paitueducation.org/

• https://nevadaculture.org/indian-commission/