Birth choice is vital Picture this.. A woman walks into a hospital. The bright lights are blaring, the floors are squeaky clean, the corridors long, the faces strange. She has come to experience one of the most formative and powerful days of her life. She is here to give birth. She signs a form, is assigned a room, with a bed, a bathroom, a curtain to pull around for some privacy. She's nervous but excited. The noises carry on around outside, as people bustle about. She unpacks her things with love, a baby blanket here, a suit and hat and booties there. The midwife on duty is lovely, but she's finishing in a couple of hours. She hopes she's still there in time for the birth. At any (and many) moment, the door to her room swings open to let in another stranger, someone who is doubtless polite but has an opinion on her ability and progress. They all talk to her nicely, explain everything to her, but they push her for an inch here, an inch there. "Yes, I know