It was a snowy Saturday morning when my daughter made her grand entrance into the world. We were discharged from the hospital by Monday, and just like that, my husband was back to work the very next day. This left me alone to juggle our newborn daughter and our energetic 2- and 4-year-old sons. Just three days postpartum, I felt every bit like a ragdoll as I stepped out of the car onto the icy pavement of the parking lot outside my doctor’s office. My body, still recovering from childbirth, struggled under the weight of the baby’s car seat. I braced myself against the vehicle, worried I might not make it the short trek to the entrance. The hospital had suggested avoiding heavy lifting, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. If only that were feasible.
My labor had been induced due to high blood pressure and preeclampsia, which hadn’t improved by the time I left the hospital. The doctor, perplexed, asked me to return for a follow-up to check my vitals. As I arrived, my toddler burst from the car with a burst of energy that my meager six hours of sleep over the past three days couldn’t match. My heart raced as he dashed ahead, and I struggled to keep up, gasping for breath as I finally reached the nurse’s station.
Not surprisingly, my blood pressure remained high, prompting the nurse to schedule yet another checkup in two days. The discussion included potential bed rest, anti-seizure meds, and the grim possibility of having to stop breastfeeding my 3-day-old baby. Looking into my tear-filled eyes, the nurse urged me to rest more. I couldn’t help but laugh again, lifting my weary toddler onto one hip and balancing the baby carrier on the other to shuffle us out of the exam room without collapsing in a heap.
I felt a surge of anger towards my husband for leaving us so soon, towards the doctors for making me come in, and towards my body for failing me when I needed it to be superhuman. Instead, as I nursed my wailing infant and watched my son put everything within arm’s reach into his mouth, I couldn’t help but think about how vastly different postpartum care is in the U.S. compared to other developed countries.
When people hear that my first son was born in the UK, they inevitably ask how the experiences differ. While there were some notable differences in labor and delivery, the most striking contrasts lay in what happened afterwards: the quality and accessibility of postpartum care. The UK’s National Health Service offers consistent support for all residents, even for moms on student visas like I was. Moreover, in the UK and much of Europe, fathers and partners are entitled to at least two weeks of paid parental leave, allowing them to bond with their newborns and help their wives recover from childbirth.
Had my daughter been born in the UK, I wouldn’t have had to bundle her up and brave the cold to check my blood pressure. After my son was born in the UK, a team of local midwives visited us at home for two weeks, providing checkups without the need for appointments. If I had questions about my health or my baby’s, I could reach out to the midwives anytime for a consultation or a home visit. When I struggled with breastfeeding, a lactation consultant came to my house the very next morning and offered support for hours—all without me having to leave the house or even put on a bra.
Eventually, my husband went back to work, and I transitioned out of midwife care, but my support system didn’t vanish completely. A specially trained nurse, known as a health visitor, was assigned to my son and continued to check in for the next five years. Initially, she visited several times a week, gradually spacing her visits apart until she came by every few months. I could always contact her by phone or text whenever I needed reassurance during those nerve-wracking first-time mom moments.
I recall calling her in tears when my son began resisting breastfeeding. She was at my door within two hours, checking on him and reassuring me that he was perfectly healthy and happy. Her calming presence likely prevented me from making a frantic late-night visit to the pediatrician. Research shows that new mothers with a solid support system during the perinatal period are less likely to face physical and mental health challenges, including postpartum depression.
The stress of attempting to “do it all” can overwhelm new mothers, and a built-in support network can alleviate some of that pressure. When my daughter was born in the U.S., the burden of caring for three little ones, maintaining the household, preparing meals, and coordinating appointments drained every ounce of energy I had left after labor. I felt like I was drowning, and of course, my body reacted by entering fight or flight mode. I desperately needed help, but the American healthcare system was falling short.
Sitting in my ob-gyn’s waiting room, surrounded by expectant mothers, I was struck by the realization that many would have to return to work after just six weeks or risk losing their jobs. Those who chose to stay home might find themselves exhausted and isolated, potentially slipping into the depths of postpartum depression.
How can we consider ourselves a civilized nation when we fail to provide adequate care for mothers after childbirth? It’s time for the United States to step up and recognize that supporting new mothers is in everyone’s best interest. Happy, healthy children start with mothers who have the time and assistance they need to recover properly after giving birth. For more insights on this critical issue, check out this post on the importance of postpartum support.