Is Postpartum Care Really a Luxury?

I often hear women say that having a postpartum doula would be lovely, but that it feels like too much of a luxury.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how we as women find it so difficult to ask for and accept help. As though we don’t deserve slowness, rest or ease. As though we need to keep going and going, being productive in order to deserve a place in this world, to be worthy and adequate.

Many of us were raised to be independent and self-sufficient, not a burden to others. We were encouraged to match men with our intellect, our aspirations and our pragmatic solutions.

We were also raised by generations of women who “just got on with it”, who held up martyrdom as a badge of honour, or who had no other option but to keep going and surviving.

So, we keep on trying to do it all, pretending we’re superhuman. If we just optimise efficiency in every part, it might all be possible: To mother intentionally, to work a full-time job, to exercise, to keep the house pristine, to provide nutritious home-cooked meals and to do everything else.

When we fall in a heap or burn out, it is easy to feel like we are failing. And our postpartum period follows the exact same pattern, believing we will be fine alone, that we will survive it and find our way through.

But this was never meant to be the feminine way. Or the way of a healthy community-centred society. We have been set up to fail and then to feel shame for it.

Whether you blame it on capitalism, the patriarchy or something else, we have gradually edged out any room for softness, sensitivity, intuition and non-transactional connection. Many women feel they have abandoned themselves somewhere along the way.

I know I’m not the only one longing for a slower, deeper and more intentional life, where women hold each other in community, especially during the challenging times and the moments of enormous transition.

Many women have told me that having a postpartum doula would have been nice, but that it feels like too much of a luxury. That response says something about where we place value in this world. Families will spend thousands preparing for a baby. Prams, bassinets, the right birthing team, beautiful nurseries. But when it comes to the wellbeing of a new mother, someone who has quite literally emptied her blood, bone and nutrient stores into creating another human being, there is often very little left to support her back to strength and help her land in a very new and often daunting role.

We often fail to understand that the mother-baby dyad remains interconnected long after birth. Perhaps if we did, we’d invest more in the care for new mothers.

A nourished and regulated mother is far better placed to care for her baby. Babies are exquisitely attuned to their mothers’ nervous systems. If a mother does not feel safe, cared for, grounded and calm, it is very likely her baby will struggle to feel those things too.

Postpartum care is not simply about comfort. It has real implications for health.

In Australia, one in five mothers and one in ten fathers experience perinatal anxiety or depression during the period from conception until a baby turns one, according to the Gidget Foundation Australia. The annual cost of this is estimated to be around $877 million.

And beyond those numbers are many more mothers who are severely depleted. Brain fog, fatigue, poor sleep and difficulty regulating mood can continue for years if there is not a GP or practitioner looking for postnatal depletion and supporting the woman back to health.

Somewhere along the way women learned to expect very little for themselves during this time. To push through exhaustion, to cope quietly, to tell themselves that this is simply what motherhood looks like.

But survival was never meant to be the standard for mothers. Bringing a new life into the world is demanding enough without asking women to do it exhausted, depleted and largely unsupported.

What might our families and communities look like if we approached this differently?

If mothers were properly nourished, if practical help was available in the early months, if there was space for rest and recovery without guilt.

Women hold families together. They also hold friendships, neighbourhoods and communities together too. When mothers are supported and emotionally steady, that stability ripples outward to everyone around them.

I see mothers in the early months after birth who feel exhausted and unrecognisable to themselves. Women who are doing extraordinary work caring for their babies while quietly running on empty. I also see how much changes when someone steps in to nourish them, to cook a meal, to listen, to hold the baby while they shower or sleep. Small acts of care have a way of reminding a mother that she matters too.

A postpartum doula is not the solution to everything. But the nourishing meals, warm drinks, tender touch and care, hours of deep listening and the presence of someone who’s ‘got' you, could be one small piece of a much bigger puzzle that we need to rebuild.

We need to increase education and awareness around the importance of postpartum care for long term wellbeing. During this time woman’s body, mind and spirit undergo one of the greatest transformations of her life. But we also need to be prepared to accept and embrace help, to have enough self-love and appreciation that we allow ourselves to rest and be cared for.

Postpartum care is not a luxury.

It is an investment in the wellbeing of mothers, babies and the communities they nurture.