issue no. 31

hard labor

postpartum in design

Fun fact: In addition to spending most of my adult life as a designer, I’m also a doula. In 2009, after giving birth to my son and being laid off upon returning to work (thank you, housing crisis) - I decided to pursue my labor doula certification.

The MizMedi DEAR’ONE: a 163,000 SF postpartum care center, designed by Yeonhan Architects, exemplifies what support can look like.

Inspired by the proverb “it takes a village to raise a child” and a vertical retreat village concept, architect Seokcheon Kim challenges South Korea’s typical individual / private-focused approach to postpartum care.

The way we treat people in labor + postpartum is directly correlated to how we value people in general. While the two disciplines may seem disconnected, they are anything but. At its core, design is problem-solving. The problem? How can we improve the human experience?

I won’t go into what I’ve witnessed in labor + delivery units, but I will say- if you can have a home birth, do it. If you can’t, hire a doula - there is definitely one that will meet your budget (see below for resources). Everyone deserves a birthing advocate!

A few things to note: I'm going to focus on postpartum care, which, among a long list of other things, our country is severely deficient in (ya know, because we deem blowing budgets on military + bombs in support of genocidal maniacs a higher priority- but I digress). Also, I speak from my own experience. Finally, please note that this article will not be able to cover the deep + wounding impact of the systemic racism of the medical-industrial complex -but do know that it is prevalent. Please see the CDC report on maternal mortality rates.

As someone who’s had the good fortune of two healthy births (one in a hospital in Atlanta + one in an apartment in Brooklyn), I can tell you there are vast chasms between these experiences. But after birth, we’re pretty much left on our own. We bring life into the world, pushing through life’s literal threshold- an experience that can feel like a death of its own. We emerge on the other end fully transformed, physically + emotionally. Our bodies + hearts stretched beyond capacity.

We spend the following days, weeks, and months feeding, feeling the pressures of nursing, producing enough milk* (or not), “bouncing back”, looking rested on 30 minute increments of sleep. We overthink every single thing, while inexperienced visitors inquire “are you going to have another?”

*Word to the wise: if you need formula, use it- guilt-free (there are some great European brands you can order online that go through more stringent testing if you're interested). As someone who struggled with milk production + spiraling over failure, save yourself.

We are exhausted, our bodies unrecognizable – why do I still look 6 months pregnant? Intense cramping as our uterus contracts back to its original size, stopping us dead in our tracks. We are hungry, so hungry, but too tired to notice, too hopped up on hormones to care. Only if we’re fortunate enough to have a partner or caregiver place a plate down in front of us do we remember to eat.

The flood of hormones, followed by a swift emotional retreat, brings us to our knees. We cry, we plead, we wonder what we’ve done. Was this a mistake? What was I thinking? I’m not qualified enough / good enough / enough enough. I can't do this. We oscillate between overwhelming bouts of joy and the deepest depths of sorrow ever known. People come to visit, filling our home with love + support, yet all we feel is total + complete isolation, like a ghost observing from above.

If we’re lucky enough (and insurance covers it), we speak with a therapist. The one who is good enough once we filter down all the preferences + financial prerequisites. A pelvic floor specialist? Now that’s just pure luxury- akin to hiring a butler. Just get used to the fact that trampolines are no longer your thing, and well…neither is sneezing…or coughing hard.

As designers + architects, it is our responsibility to hold buildings to their highest potential for service.

My point is – all of us deserve support. Not just those with family, friends, or partners nearby. Not just those with good insurance or a community that rallies around them. Not just those who can afford out-of-pocket expenses or food delivery.

We all deserve to be cared for, especially when we are inadvertently creating the next generation of labor workforce, without which our economy becomes wholly unstable. But that’s an article for another time.

We must challenge our clients to see past the status quo + guide them toward a unified vision of creating a world that supports future generations.

Looking for labor + postpartum resources?

Send an email + I’d be happy to point you in the right direction!