Five days after the birth of my first daughter, I held her in my arms as my husband held me. My head was bent against his shoulder and I was sobbing so heavily that I shook. I could barely breathe, but I pushed out the words: "I. Just. Want. To. Feed. My. Baby."

I am Sapient, I am a hip-hop artist, and I am also an advocate for natural childbirth, breastfeeding and attachment parenting. And yeah, breastfeeding isn't exactly hip-hop.

Not everyone needs to wrap themselves in ropes or balance on a trapeze bar in order to see this world. But sometimes that's what it takes.

I left my body swollen with childbirth, with milk, with life. I left eyes so tired that they felt like they had sand in them. Most of all, I left behind my certainty. My certainty that I knew what I was doing, that my path was assured, that I was safe.

Looking back, I'm glad I didn't write it off despite its rather bizarre-sounding name.

My husband jokingly applies the baseball term "hitting for the cycle" to the way I delivered our three children: from scheduled surgery to drugged and finally undrugged natural. It wasn't some sport, though I was fanatical.

Just like the millions of parenting choices just around the bend, you can't know beforehand if you're making the right choice. So, what's a parent to do? Open up, get educated, get in tune with yourself and lovingly move forward, knowing you are doing the best you can.

Rebecca Woolf did not want to get cut. In 2005, Woolf was in labor with her first baby, a boy, at a large Los Angeles hospital. She had pushed for ...

No wonder so many women these days are leery of natural childbirth -- or even vaginal birth -- not realizing how perfectly their bodies are designed for it. As are babies.

When my electric fetal monitor test didn't come out as it should, my husband and I were terrified.

On a rainy June night, six couples strained to get a better view of a home video of a woman, legs spread, giving birth. The room was hushed -- the...