There are some things that America does better than England – enthusiasm, for one. And there are some things that England does better than America – like bacon.
A few years ago, my husband, Ben, got offered a job in Denver, Colorado, so we packed up our London flat and moved to the Mile High City. Whilst living out there, I gave birth to our firstborn, Josh, in 2013.
We moved to Poole, Dorset in the UK shortly afterwards and, two years later, I found myself once again cutting off the blood supply to Ben’s hand as I pushed Toby into the world.
Two boys, two countries: one comparison.
Being pregnant and giving birth in both the US and the UK were hugely contrasting experiences. Both were simultaneously wonderful and hellish, but for very different reasons.
From the prenatal care to the pain relief available, the attitudes of the staff to the food served, having a baby on one side of the pond was a world apart from the other.
Katherine Bebo gave birth to her first son Josh (right) in 2013 in Denver, Colorado, where her husband Ben (pictured) was working at the time. Soon after, they relocated to Poole, in Dorset, and they had their second son Toby (left) in 2015. Two boys, two countries: one comparison
THE LEVEL OF CARE
I can’t fault the American level of care. There were lots of appointments (14 to be exact) and scans (four) throughout my pregnancy with a doctor I had personally selected and, during labor, I felt secure that I was in good hands (or stirrups).
While the appointments and scans were a comfort to know that my bun was cooking nicely in his oven, I couldn’t help but feel that having so many was a little unnecessary, especially as my pregnancy was low-risk.
In the UK, I feel I had enough meetings (eight check-ups and two scans) with my midwife to be confident everything was fine, but not so many that I’d feel compelled to send her a Christmas card.
While I became close to my doctor in America, it would have been nice if I’d made some pregnant friends during the nine months I was growing a human.
When the British nurses were trying to find a vein in my hand to fit a cannula, they gave me a running commentary of ‘Oops, sorry about that… Yikes, that’s a lot of blood… You’re very veiny, aren’t you?’
Although Ben and I attended a one-day intensive course in the US on how the hell to cope with labor/the birth/caring for the baby, we didn’t have the option of joining an NCT group – or anything similar – where you attend weekly classes with other couples just as befuddled as you.
In America, I started having contractions three days before my due date and arrived at the hospital just past midnight. Toby, born in the UK, arrived on his due date, bang on time. In the States, things appeared to work seamlessly; the staff members were calm and efficient. In the UK, however, the nurses were a bit more apologetic (British) about things.
Notably, when they were trying to find a vein in my hand to fit a cannula, they gave me a running commentary of ‘Oops, sorry about that… Yikes, that’s a lot of blood… You’re very veiny, aren’t you?’.
If I hadn’t been doubled over in agony, I may have mused that I was in a scene from Carry On Nurse.
Surely I was just as ‘veiny’ in the States and they may have spurted just as much of my blood around the room (I had my head buried in Ben’s shoulder so couldn’t see what was going on) but I never knew because the staff didn’t deem it necessary to tell me.
However, I forgave the British nurses their over-sharing when they supplied me with an endless supply of toast and blackcurrant squash after I’d given birth.
In the States, things appeared to work seamlessly; the staff members were calm and efficient, even though Katherine started having contractions three days before Josh’s due date and arrived at the hospital just past midnight. Pictured: Katherine with newborn Josh in 2013
Toby (pictured), born in the UK, arrived on his due date, bang on time
DRUGS
Labor is painful. My pain threshold is seemingly akin to someone being stabbed multiple times, then kneecapped, then given a paper cut on her eyeballs. During labor, I wanted drugs and I wanted them NOW.
In America, even though I had to wait until I was 2cm dilated – about two hours after first being admitted – I got them. Namely, an epidural… and another one as soon as I could feel that one wearing off.
In the UK, I was continually fobbed off – pretty much right up to the point where I needed to push – being told that the anesthetist was dealing with an ’emergency’. When I finally met him, he told me he’d been eating a sandwich.
By this time, it was too late for an epidural. I swore like a sailor, I can tell you.
The day after giving birth in America – along with the nurses, breast-feeding specialists, and people asking if I wanted Josh circumcised – a ‘finance woman’ sat on my bed to discuss our payment plan
While the gas and air (which, incidentally, isn’t offered in the US) I toked on as though my life depended on it offered some very welcome head rushes, using this ‘pain relief’ in place of an epidural is like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet wound.
So, needless to say, my labor in America was a more calm experience and didn’t see me morph into a combination of Gordon Ramsay and Malcolm Tucker from political TV show The Thick Of It.
However, my labor in the US was an endurance test, lasting about 26 hours, perhaps because the epidurals slowed proceedings down.
I’ve since read that epidurals are often given too early on in labor, which decelerates things as the mother isn’t able to use gravity and movement to keep everything progressing well.
It’s suggested that, when you’re 4 or 5cm dilated (active labor,) that is the ‘ideal’ time for an epidural to be administered.
In the UK, labor was an intense – but quick – six hours and, afterwards, I felt so proud of myself for getting through it without drugs.
Pros and cons: Ben and Katherine had far more pre-natal check-ups in America than in the UK, but they found there were more couples groups in England to bond with other expectant parents beforehand
THE HOSPITAL STAY
The American hospital where I gave birth is about half the size of the UK one – with 365 beds, compared to 789. In the US, we stayed in a private room for two nights.
I say ‘we’ because my husband stayed there too (the hospital staff even found him a longer Z-bed because he was too tall for the one already there).
In the UK, we were lucky enough to be in and out the same day, but I know that partners aren’t allowed to stay on the wards. Throughout our stay, there was a 24-hour ‘nursery’ where my baby could be taken and cared for while I got some shut-eye. I could also choose what food I wanted from a menu, plus request water/snacks/Tylenol painkillers from the nurses and they would be brought to me right away.
The nurse call button and I became very well acquainted in America.
Although we didn’t stay overnight in a British hospital, Toby conveniently arrived right before visiting hours, which meant that the grandparents got a ‘brand-new, scrunched-up-face’ cuddle.
The nurses were extremely accommodating and let them stay way longer than they were technically ‘allowed’.
Comparing the two: Katherine says she I truly doesn’t know which one I found ‘better’ out of her vastly different experiences
If I’d have been admitted to the ward, visiting hours would have been three hours long for most visitors, but 11 hours for my other child, Josh (not that he’d have wanted to stare at his new brother for that long – Peppa Pig is far more entertaining).
The concept of visiting hours didn’t exist during my labor in America. In fact, Mum and Dad were milling about for hours, and even popped in for a chat, cup of tea and a foot rub (me, not them) while I was under the blissful influence of my epidural.
THE COST
Having a baby in America is eye-wateringly expensive. Even though we had health insurance, we were still hit with a $4,000 (£3,000) bill to take home with our bundle of joy (and that doesn’t include the premiums we had to pay throughout the year).
This is considered cheap compared to other women’s bills. If we hadn’t had insurance, the damage would have been $16,000 (£12,500).
Through the hazy euphoria/terror of becoming a mother, I recall being upsold on getting a flu shot and the itemized bill we received included things like ‘rubber gloves’.
The day after I’d given birth, along with the parade of nurses, breast-feeding specialists, photographers and people asking if I wanted to circumcise my child, a ‘finance woman’ sat on my bed to discuss our payment plan.
In the UK, everything was gloriously free… apart from the parking. I love the NHS!
THE AFTERCARE
Both the US and UK provided a similar number of check-ups for my babies – occurring shortly after birth, around eight weeks, four months, six months and nine months.
They kept tabs on the babies’ weight, length, head circumference, hearing, sight, hip mobility and general well-being.
I could have lived without the whopping bill, but as with most things in life, ‘you get what you pay for’, and I was very well looked after
As any new mother will tell you, just leaving the house during those first few crazy weeks/months is a task in itself – the feeding, the nappy changing, the outfit swapping (the baby and you), the emergency bath after an explosive poo.
Having to be somewhere specific is a feat that seems impossible.
And being somewhere on time? Forget it!
In America, I had to take Josh to his appointments, check-ups and weigh-ins at the doctor’s office.
In the UK, a health visitor – a lovely woman called Shirley – came to my house for each appointment.
In America, while there are phone numbers you can call and support groups you can attend if you’re struggling with breastfeeding/sleep-deprivation/the loopiness of being a mother, it’s not quite the same as someone sitting on your sofa and talking things through over a cup of tea and a Hobnob biscuit.
When I ponder on my two vastly different experiences of having my babies, I truly don’t know which one I found ‘better’.
Yes, I could have lived without the whopping bill from Uncle Sam, but as with most things in life, ‘you get what you pay for’, and I was very well looked after.
On the flipside, the fact that I didn’t have to change out of my pajamas to get Toby checked and weighed when he was a few days old was priceless. Ultimately, I got two healthy, wonderful boys and that’s all that really matters.