After my grandmother gave birth, her new baby was immediately taken out of the room to be cared for, while she was left alone in the room with a fan placed between her legs for pain management.
My mom never had urinary incontinence. She believed — because it was simply what everyone knew — that it was a normal part of life after childbirth, something you just lived with. No one had ever told her pelvic floor physical therapy existed. She heard about it from me, decades later.
Different generations. Different experiences. But both make me ask the same question: who was making sure the person who gave birth was cared for, too?
Then it was my turn. At my own postpartum visit, something felt wrong — and I was told I looked fine. Nobody checked. So I did the system’s job myself: I named what I suspected, prolapse, and asked for the pelvic floor referral no one had mentioned. I was right. I had prolapse.
Fifteen years in healthcare. A doctorate in nursing practice. And I still had to diagnose myself and fight for the referral. If that’s what it took for me, what chance does a first-time mom have — alone with Google at 3am?
I want pelvic floor physical therapy to be part of every person's postpartum care plan, with support tailored to their needs. No one should have to know the right words to discover that support exists.
Postpartum care has improved. I want to honor that progress and be honest about how far we still have to go. Questions about our bodies, our emotional health, and where to turn can still be left for us to figure out when we are exhausted and healing.
Afterward grew from wanting a different experience for the next parent: someone who comes to your home, listens, explains your options, and helps you get the support you deserve.
This time can be incredibly tender and absolutely overwhelming—sometimes in the same hour. You deserve care through all of it.
What that care can look like →