We Deserve Better “Mother’s Rooms”

Rarely do women get what we fully deserve. Certainly, the pay doesn’t cut it. Our rights are being continually stripped away. And this all becomes even more apparent once we have babies. So what can be done? There are monumental ideas, like the brand new $215 million fund that Melinda French Gates is committing to improve women’s health around the world—from contraceptive access through menopause care. “We need a menopause revolution in this country,” Gates wrote last week in an Opinion piece for The New York Times. “Our society’s approach to menopause and perimenopause reflects the deep flaws of a health system that has long treated women as an afterthought.” Gates goes on to suggest concrete changes in education, policy, and research to help close the gap.

But sometimes the improvements don’t need to be multimillion in scale. Maybe it’s providing sensitivity training for those in the fertility field, advocating for more equitable pay for healthcare workers, or simply designing a nice space for us to feed our babies. And it all starts by talking about the inefficiencies, however small they may seem to those who haven’t encountered them. As Gates writes: “We should thank the women who have been speaking out about their experiences and demanding better.”

Alright, let’s address something out of the gate. The term “mother’s room” (used in many an airport and office) is bad. For one, it implies that only mothers are the ones feeding, changing, and caring for their children. God forbid anyone helps them. Not to mention that it discounts nonbinary folks, nonbirthing partners, and anyone who might not necessarily identify as a “mother.” The term “lactation room” also strikes me as odd. Only people lactating can use these rooms? And nursing in public is so horrifying that it must be done behind a closed door? Of course, these rooms can also function as a place for caregivers to take a beat, put down the hulking diaper bag, change their baby in a comfortable space, and—gasp!—even focus on their own wellness for a minute. Funnily enough, my hometown baseball stadium calls them Family Wellness Rooms and I love that.

Beyond the name, there seems to be zero thought or care that goes into the actual design. Logistically speaking, these rooms generally consist of a recliner, a fold-down changing table, and a sink. Caregivers can’t even get our own toilets, so we’re already set up for failure, forced to take two trips to use the bathroom ourselves. If you’re carting breastmilk around (which many of us are), a small fridge would be nice. The color palette is neutral at best and soul-sucking at worst. As my one friend described it: “various shades of nipple.” Why are caregivers not allowed to look at beautiful art or even flip through a magazine? You know it’s bad when I’m yearning for the cultural stimulation of a doctor’s waiting room. 

These issues and more are exactly what architects Liz York and Joyce Lee tackled in their resource guide to bettering the design of wellness rooms. At minimum, they say, these rooms should be ADA-accessible, and have well-placed electrical outlets, a refrigerator, optimal storage, and a utility-sized sink. Beyond that, they include a list of additional recommendations that are simple and cheap, but feel luxurious in comparison to what we currently have. Think ambient lighting (no fluorescents!), temperature control, bag and coat hooks, stroller storage, educational information and reading materials, and a soothing color palette. We’re not asking for the Ritz!

Just last month, The Guardian published a photo essay depicting various spaces that working women are using as lactation rooms. The story describes many of the spaces as “starkly depressing” and says they “expose the sometimes grim reality of being a new mum in the U.S.” In fact, some of the brightest colors and softest materials of all the rooms photographed was inside the Julia Tutwiler Prison, thanks to the work of the Alabama Prison Birth Project. Proof that through good, thoughtful, and funded work, it’s possible to transform these rooms.

And, I beg, if we can litter airports and stadiums with glitzy and opulent sports betting bars, we can provide half that consideration to spaces dedicated to caring for babies. —Jess Mayhugh

Items that wound up in our Amazon cart this month

Look, we know Bezos is bad. And we try to negate our big box spending by supporting local business and artists whenever we can. But sometimes in the middle of the night, Amazon is our best and most affordable option. So sue us (but, actually don’t). Every month, we’ll take a look back at our Amazon orders and let you know what random shit ended up in our cart. Maybe it will help you solve your own set of life problems, or at the very least give you a voyeuristic glimpse into ours. —Lauren Bell Martin

Meet sonographer Chrissy Brown, who found her calling in the fertility field

Often, it’s doctors that get all the credit in the fertility field. But there are so many people who contribute to that (finally!) positive pregnancy test. There are the nurses, the phlebotomists, the embryologists, the office managers, and the list goes on. Likely the people you see the most are the sonographers, who are constantly monitoring your follicles and helping you interpret what those fuzzy blobs on the screen actually mean.

For Shady Grove sonographer Chrissy Brown, it took her a rigorous educational program and many jobs before she realized that she was meant to work in the fertility field. “I love working in women’s health and fertility,” she says. “I like being able to be there for women who are going through such a challenging time.” Here, she talks about what her typical day looks like, how she learned about emotional sensitivity from a mentor, and how healthcare workers can be better supported. —LBM

Why did you want to become a sonographer and what was the process like?
I needed a career change and I was looking for something that was in the medical field for stability. I knew I wanted something solid in place while I started my own family. My friend’s daughter got diagnosed with a rare heart defect via ultrasound and I just thought that was really amazing, so I looked into ultrasound. I started at UMBC in 2020, which was a really weird time to be in healthcare, and it was a really rigorous, accelerated program. It’s 14 months long and you can’t have a job at the same time because you are constantly studying for your boards and then you’re going to clinicals every day. 

When I graduated, it was really weird and scary to be working in the hospital. At the time I thought I had made a very, very expensive mistake because I absolutely hated ultrasound, hated the people I was working with; the techs I shadowed were really callous, mechanical, and generally unpleasant to be around. I remember thinking, What have I done? So I started going from job to job to find somewhere that felt like a good fit. I was at a couple of different hospitals, a couple of outpatient places, and then my last go was starting at Shady Grove Fertility and I ended up loving it. It feels like being on the right side of things to me, and like I’m making a difference.

Can you describe a typical day at work?
Our first exam is as early as 6:45 a.m. and I primarily do monitoring exams, anywhere from the start to the end of a woman’s cycle. We do baseline ultrasounds before they touch any sort of medication, which gives us an idea of their starting point and if there are any issues we will need to deal with like fibroids, polyps, or ovarian cysts. Once that is done, we monitor all of the cycles going forward, so it could be an IUI cycle, IVF cycle, timed intercourse cycle, a frozen embryo transplant, and even egg freezing. We see what the follicles are looking like in conjunction with a patient’s bloodwork to see when the exact right time for certain fertility treatments is. 

My schedule is very flexible and I just work weekends, but will occasionally fill in during the week doing OB scans. It’s very fast-paced and we are doing exam after exam after exam. We are usually scanning around 50 patients in a three-hour time period. And you’re only supposed to spend five minutes max on each scan, so that obviously puts a little pressure on you to keep up the speed because people are waiting and have lives. But each scan is so different. Some patients just have more questions and are more anxious, or you could be working with someone who just had a loss, or they’re starting a new cycle after a loss and they need more support. So it’s just not feasible that I’m going to be in and out of every room. Sometimes it can be pretty heavy. 

How do you come from a place of sensitivity when working with patients? 
We are in a time where bedside manner has kind of disappeared. I would watch other people with patients and I just couldn’t imagine treating somebody like that. I think the worst part for me was that I really hated how healthcare professionals discussed patients or, even worse, patients’ bodies, as if they weren’t real human beings. That was very weird and shocking to me. I remember coming home a lot of days after clinicals crying to my husband. But when I got to Shady Grove, I realized most of these women that are coming in want to be here, they’re most likely in an anxious or worried state, and they just need somebody to be a little kind to them, even if it’s only a five-minute encounter. It makes me feel good to be that person for them. 

What kind of training do you all undergo when it comes to that sensitivity?
None at all, which is wild! I learned how to discuss certain topics by watching my mentor who trained me and was in the field for over 22 years. She was wonderful and so kind to her patients and really that’s how I learned how to act. It’s about being aware of what other people are going through and putting yourself in somebody else’s shoes. Some women are driving hours to get here every day—leaving family, leaving work to go get these scans that are obviously really important. But it’s not just their time being exhausted, but it’s medications and side effects of those medications. And that’s just talking about people going through an elective IVF cycle. I’ve had women come in after a cancer diagnosis to get their eggs frozen because they’ve just been given this devastating news. You have to be empathetic. You have to be kind.

Are there any words or phrases you try to avoid using when doing scans?
When I do a baseline ultrasound, I tell them their antral follicle count and I’m sensitive about telling anyone what a “good” or “normal” count is. It’s all relative. Plus, I know damn well they are going to be on Reddit by the time they get back to their car to see if that is a “good” number. The fact of the matter is everyone wants what they don’t have. Women who have two or three follicles on their ovaries want more follicles and women who have 20-plus on each ovary want less. 

It’s also important for me to avoid giving medical advice. I defer patients to the nurse when we start discussing anything regarding medication or timing for trigger shots, etc. Our nurses and doctors work really hard to keep our patients properly informed and I only have a small piece of the puzzle with ultrasound imaging. It’s crucial I don’t confuse patients or instill a false sense of hope or hopelessness based on my scans. I try to stay emotionally available during scans for patients to openly talk or vent, but make sure to reiterate that their nurses are the people who can properly address their concerns.

How could women’s healthcare professionals be better supported?
There needs to be more staff. The amount of people that healthcare providers are supposed to see in a day is insane. For sonographers, how many scans we’re supposed to do in a small amount of time is a lot, and nurses are completely overwhelmed. And then all of these companies do these wellness days for nurses and people in healthcare and nobody needs that. They don’t need to meditate together. They need to be paid more. 

In what ways do you protect your emotional boundaries? 
I talk a lot. I talk to my husband, family, and close friends about my day, which is a huge help in getting that emotional load off. I also acknowledge how lucky I am and try to lead with gratitude. I learned very quickly working in this field how hard it is to have a child and how lucky I am to have a healthy child at home. I started this position after my son was born, and I do in a way feel guilty sometimes that I didn’t go through this process. I feel like I would be able to relate to these women on another level and be an even better support if I had. 

What is the most rewarding part of your job?
Seeing patients through all stages of their fertility journey can be very rewarding. I love getting to know these women. I admire how strong they are throughout different obstacles and failed cycles. These women are amazing. I don’t think anyone wants to come get a transvaginal ultrasound, like no one. It’s not something you look forward to no matter how much you want a baby. But being able to treat them like they are a human being and like they are important—because they are—really makes a difference.

“Just because a hotel pool says it’s heated doesn’t necessarily mean it’s heated. My son’s first swim experience was a total fail. But we’re hopeful for warmer waters ahead!” —JM