We already had a boy and a girl, and were living on our sailboat Pangaea as longtime cruisers. I was convinced the reproduction was over. It was my husband, Achim, who, over the years, gently put the idea in my head that it would be nice to have a third, especially if that third would be a girl, and especially if the girl's name would be Maeva.

Most every night I would try to convince him that we had one boy and one girl, we only had two hands each and we should quit while we were ahead, but through his silent non-acquiescence, I could see his vision would not be moved.

On passage between Grenada and Tobago, I decided to give my contraception pills a short break, to allow my body to regulate itself.

One month after that decision, Maeva Margarita was conceived in early May on the waters of Isla Margarita, off the coast of Venezuela. What shock to learn that not only can you get pregnant within one month of going off pills, but that the likelihood of having TWINS is much greater if you conceive this way! Then we would really have to get a bigger boat.

The family left the floating home for the hurricane season on Margarita, flew to Germany for the summer then moved to Sarasota, Fla., in September, where Achim joined Lasersoft Imaging and became "the Silicon Valley of Longboat Key," perhaps the only software developer out here on this tourism-oriented retirement paradise.

We started out in a Seaplace condo while we organized the birth at a birthing center, and Achim sailed Pangaea up to Sarasota with a crew member, landing her at Longboat Key moorings. We moved back on board January 1, knowing that Maeva was due sometime the end of January.

A few incidents led me to choose a birthing center with a midwife over "the medical model" of Sarasota Hospital plus obstetrician. Both my first two births were in a hospital, and I felt that all of the medical intervention, particularly on the second birth, actually hindered my capacity for giving birth complication free. Perhaps equally as important, I had videotaped the first two births and wanted the same for the third, and no hospital in Sarasota allows the videotaping of the birth: liability!

Liability played another key role in my decision to birth at Rosemary's. For my routine ultrasound, my gynecologist Dr. Sullivan referred me to the neonatologist offices of Baron Hill. When I was told by their administrator that children are barred from the office during the ultrasound, I was shocked, since my children had witnessed every ultrasound until then.

I called every neonatologist I could find in Florida to find out if this was normal practice, and found not one single office to have such a regulation. When I asked Baron-Hill's administrator what they would do if I couldn't find childcare for both kids, she said she would cancel the appointment. "Anyway, a woman who can't get childcare for her kids has no business having children," she announced to me over the phone. I told her I found their attitude discriminatory, and that I needed to consult with my husband.

Within the next half hour I received a call from my gynecologist; he was dropping me as a patient, even though I was in perfect health and had not spoken to him directly about the incident! Evidently, the administrator from Baron-Hill called him to warn him I might be "lawsuit-happy," and he apologetically said he couldn't take any chances. Florida allows its medical practitioners to drop patients without cause as long as they give them 30 days' notice by certified mail.

Was this the kind of atmosphere I wanted my baby born into? I was grateful to find Rosemary's birthing center in a beautiful Colonial house on Central Avenue. Their in-house midwife, Heidi D., took me in with open arms and arranged for my insurance to cover all costs. It's a little known fact in Florida that birthing centers and midwifery are covered by insurance, even if you don't see it in the fine print of your policy!

The birthing home has a beautiful birthing pool in a romantic room with all the birthing paraphernalia one could imagine. And should any complications arise, the hospital is only 10 minutes away. A waterbirth sounded perfect, and I was ready for it, so I thought.

On Saturday evening, Heidi informed me that I had a leak of amniotic fluid; in other words, that my water had broken, but it was a very small, slow leak.

According to tradition, Heidi said, we gauge the evolution of labor according to the concept of three Ps – Power, Passenger and Passageway. Basically, this means the force of labor, the size and position of the baby and the size of the birth canal.

Unfortunately in my case, there is a fourth P: Policy. Although my due date was three days away, and I had no contractions to speak of, any rupture of amniotic membranes is a mandatory reason to check in with the hospital. This was policy, because if fluid can come out, bacteria can get in, and it's only a matter of time before infection can jeopardize a baby and mother. In other words, I needed to go into active labor within the next 24 hours, or my waterbirth would be cancelled and I would be shipped off to Sarasota Memorial.

Not the worst scenario in the world, Achim insisted. After all, weren't most babies born in the hospital? Weren't our first two, for that matter?

But in my mind I was determined. I went back to the boat with all sorts of products and activities to induce labor, including castor oil and Black Cohosh herbs. Turns out I didn't need any of them except one: a positive mental attitude and a mantra, It is time!

Achim went to bed in the back cabin with a terrible headache (isn't that always when they get them?) and the kids snored away in the forepeak. I, in the mean time, did the dishes to the tunes of Madonna's Immaculate Collection, happy to notice something coming on like contractions. Every time I felt one, I closed my eyes, tweaked my nipples (a sure-shot oxytocin-producing activity) and said my mantra. By the time the album had played through and the Rice Krispie treat gunk was scraped from the pan, I felt labor had begun and called the midwife. It was 3:30 a.m.

"So when do you want to come in?" Heidi asked. I did my math. If my first child took over 18 hours, my second over six hours, then 90 minutes shouldn't be too long, so I told her we would be at the center by 4:30 a.m. I made sure everything was properly packed, that the kids had their lunches ready for after school. Meanwhile, my contractions were getting stronger, and I wrenched Achim out of bed to bring the stuff and kids to the car.

That was when things really started. Achim helped me through both of my first two births, and he knew more or less how to handle me when I'm having a contraction. But suddenly they were so strong, and didn't seem to let up after 60 seconds like they always do. On my knees holding on to him, I insisted that this was harder than I thought, that I was scared ... all the same words I had uttered going into transition on the first two!

By the time he got the kids out of bed, I knew the baby would be born right there on board. "Get the sheets!" I announced, wedging myself between the chart table and the motor hatch. Did he even know where the sheets were?

Despite what may seem in hindsight like a horrific situation, an amazing calm came over me. I felt the transition fly into push mode. Achim didn't have time to wash his hands or select the more used sheets. "Do you see her head?" I asked.

Thankfully he had watched the birthing videos a number of times and knew what to do should the cord be wrapped around her neck, which was the case, but not dangerously. Maeva slipped into his hands right in front of the children, who thought it was the most natural thing in the world. "So that's what Maeva looks like," exclaimed 4-year-old Ari. I heard her little cry and breathing began almost immediately.

I lay there stunned, proud and glowing on the starboard floor of the main cabin, nursing my newborn while Achim called the midwife to inform her of the other kind of waterbirth that had just taken place.

The dim lighting, the friendly, homey atmosphere, the minimal discomfort, the good music and positive vibes – it all contributed to my most pleasant birth experience – and last one, I'm sure!

By the next day, everyone in Longboat Key Moorings seemed to know I had a new baby. I took her to the potluck later that week to show her to all our neighbors, and she was quite a central attraction. After all, babies aren't born on Longboat Key every day.