Having a baby in Berlin
My experience of pregnancy, birth, postpartum care, and parental leave.
When you walk into my Friedrichshain apartment, there’s a room labeled “Kinderwagen-Rollstuhle” next to the elevator. On the door, a paper reads:
“Only for strollers. Do not use this room for bikes!”
This was my first inkling that Friedrichshain was a neighborhood for more than hipsters and its club scene.
When I first moved to Berlin in 2019, stroller rooms and family policies were the last thing on my mind. My husband and I moved here to live in a big city, travel across Europe, and start a new adventure. As we stayed longer though, more of our friends started popping out pandemic babies. We soon decided to start our family here as well.
Americans love praising Scandinavian countries' utopian family policies. The NY Times recently touted Finland for giving all new parents the same leave, following Sweden’s example. Bringing up Bebe, which explores the differences between American and French child rearing, has become standard pregnancy reading. Achtung Baby is the German equivalent. I also read these books during pregnancy in my quest to glean child-rearing wisdom.
This post is my version: a personal story about my 22 months of pregnancy, birth, postpartum, and parental leave in Berlin. This isn’t a how-to guide, and I’m not promising to confer any wisdom. But I’d like to show what it’s like to live in a city built with both physical and social infrastructure for families, during one of life’s most tender junctures.
1. Pregnancy
The Mutterpass
At my first appointment with my Frauenartz (OB/GYN), I received a little book called the Mutterpass (Mother’s pass). All the tests and examinations throughout my pregnancy and birth were recorded in it. Although it may seem archaic to bring a paper booklet with you to every appointment, it actually made a lot of sense in practice. During my pregnancy, I received care from a disparate group of doctors and midwives. Instead of transferring electronic medical records, I simply handed over my Mutterpass at the start of each appointment.
My care team
Holistic medicine is more widely accepted in Germany and supported by the medical establishment. Like in the US, I went to routine OB/GYN checkups where I would do a urinanalysis, blood pressure check, weigh-in, periodic blood tests, and consultation at each appointment. I did ultrasounds and genetic testing at predetermined weeks. Unlike the US, I also went to a Hebammenpraxis, a midwife clinic.
One of the downsides I experienced with public health insurance was that my OG/GYN was often overbooked and rushed—sometimes my appointments started one to two hours late. But at the Hebammenpraxis, the midwives took their time. They explained each test in my Mutterpass, making sure I understood each result. They also recommended acupuncture and acupressure for my debilitating first trimester nausea. This was all covered by my public health insurance.
I split the costs of my public health insurance with my employer—I pay around €440 per month. This is calculated based on your income level. Health insurance is mandatory for everyone living in Germany. Some people pay for private health insurance if they don’t qualify for public, or want greater control of their providers. See here for more details.
Picking a hebamme
My favorite part of the German medical system is the hebamme, a personal midwife. Hebammen are trained medical professionals that can perform examinations on the mother and the baby. They also guide parents through this huge life transition. In Berlin they work hyper-locally — usually only in one neighborhood. My other mom friends advised me to start looking for a hebamme as soon as my pregnancy was confirmed.
Unfortunately there is a shortage of hebammen in Berlin. To find one, I posted in facebook groups, registered for search websites, visited Hebammenpraxes, and asked friends of friends. Finally, by the end of the first trimester I found my match: Mandy.
Mandy only worked in my zip code, and took a handful of new mothers each month. She visited homes by biking from apartment to apartment — sometimes up to 8–10 homes a day! After our initial meeting at the end of my first trimester, we signed a contract. We didn’t talk for a while, and then around week 35, she came for a few home visits. She checked out my baby room and recommended a few items I might need postpartum. She was also available on call if I thought I was going into labor, and could advise me on when to go to the hospital.
Picking where to deliver
In Berlin, you have a couple of options on where to give birth: a hospital, a Geburtshaus (birthing center), or Hausgeburt (home birth). All options are mostly covered by insurance. In birthing centers, you are attended to by a 1-on-1 midwife in a more “home-like” environment. Doctors are not on-site and there is not the option for epidurals or other drugs. At home, a Beleghebamme (personal birthing midwife) supervises your delivery.
I chose to deliver in a hospital because I wanted the option to have an epidural, and probably because of my American tendencies. I registered at Charité Mitte, a top teaching hospital 20 minutes away, where most doctors and nurses spoke English.
Preparing for birth
Germans believe that all pregnant women are entitled to not only adequate medical care, but also mental and physical preparations for birth. My public health insurance, Die Techniker, reimbursed me for yoga classes and a Geburtsvorbereitungskurs (birth class). Although most couples take a weekly birth class in their neighborhood, we chose a weekend online course because of COVID. It was also challenging to find one in English.
The German system acknowledges that pregnant mothers not only need a physical break, but also a mental break. They respect the experience of pregnancy and motherhood.
In Germany, your maternal leave starts six weeks before your due date, with the statutory maternity leave, called Mutterschutz. During this time, you receive full pay, and are expected to relax and focus on preparing for the baby. At first I wasn’t sure if I wanted to take that much time off. I felt extreme FOMO — worried that I’d miss out on important moments at work.
However, since I’d be paid the same whether I worked or not, I embraced the German benefits and stopped working. I spent the first few weeks off “nesting” — preparing the baby room, washing and sorting hand-me-down clothes, and stocking our freezer. I also tried to stay active by doing prenatal yoga and going for walks with other moms on leave. One of the benefits of longer maternity leaves is that there is a higher likelihood that your friends are also on leave.
2. Birth
Delivery
After my due date came and went, I went for daily check-ups and CTG (electronic fetal monitor, EFM) scans at my Frauenartz. Five days after my due date, I had a blood test at the hospital and they decided to have me stay to be induced. While I waited for the induction pills to work, I waited in a separate hospital room in the maternity ward.
German hospitals provide a range of equipment to support vaginal deliveries. Charite’s delivery rooms had specialised equipment such as an exercise ball, birthing stools, ropes attached to the ceiling and walls, and adjustable birthing tables. Some even had a bathtub for water delivery. The midwives embrace moving around and changing positions to help the baby “spin” down the birth canal.
I had the fortune of a quiet delivery ward, which allowed a midwife to accompany me the entire time I was in active labor. Oftentimes in a hospital a midwife splits her time between two or three women. One downside of giving birth in a hospital though is that you may need to change midwives mid-delivery. This happened to me 6 hours in. But in the end, I had a positive experience as I liked the different approach of both midwives. I didn’t see a doctor until the very end, just a few minutes before I delivered my baby boy.
Grant was born after 9 hours of labor.
Staying in the hospital
After birth, I stayed in the hospital for 3 days. This allowed us to have Grant’s U2 appointment at the hospital, which needs to happen between the third and tenth day of life in Germany. Similar to US wellness checkups, Germans have a set of preventive medical check-ups from the first day of birth through adolescence.
We were lucky to get a “family room” after birth, where my husband was able to stay with us in his own bed. We were supported by postpartum midwives 24–7, who were just a button press away. Charite doesn’t have that many family rooms though, so most people need to share a room post delivery. Other families choose to leave the hospital as soon as possible, because their hebamme can also support them at home.
The one downside of staying in the hospital was the German food. This was what I was served for dinner on the first night. Yes, that’s a raw tomato in the corner and a large pickled cucumber in the other.
3. Postpartum
I had heard the hardest trimester isn’t the 3rd, it’s actually the “4th trimester”, otherwise known as postpartum. I was worried about sleepless nights and how my body would recover. But after reading the book “The First Forty Days,” I learned it could be a magical time if you’re prepared and have a strong support system.
Wochenbett
The Germans also have a culture of resting after birth called Wochenbett which literally means “weeks in bed.” The new mother is supposed to stay in bed to recover and focus on skin-on-skin and feeding the new baby.
This is actually quite similar to the Chinese tradition of Zuo Yuezi (坐月子), which literally translates to confinement. During this time, new mothers aren’t supposed to leave the house or touch cold water.
My parents came to Berlin for my Zuo Yuezi, and rented an apartment a block from my apartment. My mom made me warm Chinese soups, didn’t let me touch cold water, and helped take care of Grant. I didn’t leave the house for almost 30 days, which wasn’t that hard for me as it was in the middle of winter.
Hebamme visits
As I mentioned before, my favorite German benefit is the hebamme. My midwife Mandy came the first day we got home, and visited every day for the first few weeks. Each visit started by weighing Grant, tracking his progress to regaining his birth weight. She also checked and cleaned his umbilical cord stub, and showed us how to bathe him once it fell off.
At the beginning she also supported me in breastfeeding: teaching me different positions, helping wake Grant up mid-feed (his breastfeeding persona was a “dinner dozer” / “rester”), and teaching me how to use the pump (which I only used before my supply came in). This was invaluable, as it prevented common breastfeeding problems like mastitis and nipple pain. If I had any major issues, Mandy could have also referred me to a lactation consultant.
Each day, my husband and I would write down all our questions to review with her. Are his hands too hot or too cold? How should we dress him at night? Should we start vitamin D drops? When will he get over his jetlag? Are we doing tummy time right? Is this a normal amount of spit up? I think she single-handedly prevented us from having postpartum anxiety. :)
She also checked on my health — both physical and mental. She asked about my bleeding, checked my stitches, and examined my abs for diastasis recti. It was such a blessing to get maternal care without having to leave the house with a newborn. Oftentimes, there is so much focus on the baby, not on the mother’s recovery. I didn’t feel this way.
4. Parental leave
Time off
All German employees (people with a German employment contract) are entitled to parental leave. There are two concepts: Elternzeit (parental time off) and Elterngeld (parental allowance / money).
- Elternzeit: Up to 3 years of unpaid leave for each parent, before your child’s 8th birthday. Employers are required to give you the same or a similar role when you return.
- Elterngeld: To support you in taking Elternzeit, all parents can apply for a stipend that depends on your income level (300–1800 euros / month). Parents apply jointly and decide how they want to split it up. You can apply for 2–12 months of allowance. This is funded by the German social security system, not by your employer.
In my circle of friends, most mothers took at least a year off — usually until their child went to Kita. This also lines up with how long women are recommended to breastfeed for, about one year. Babies can start drinking cow’s milk after one year of age. I noticed that most fathers took a few weeks off at the start with the mother, and then some weeks later when the baby is older. Many took it during the summer holiday so the whole family could vacation together.
In a bit of a tangent, I’m going to compare Germany’s policy to Sweden’s. Unlike Sweden’s equality focused policy, Germany doesn’t have a minimum number of days each parent must take. In Sweden, their 90 days of “use-it-or-lose-it” time for fathers incentivizes men to take their full parental leave. Sweden also has an “equality bonus” of 50 kr each per day if you share your parental leave equally. This has led more Swedish men to take more paternal leave than other countries, and even created a “latte pappa” culture.
While I was pregnant, we visited our friends in Sweden with a 1 year old. The couple took the first month off together. The mom then took the next 6 months on her own, and then the father took the next 6 months on his own. Leaving the baby with the father made it easier for my friend to go back to work, and helped them establish a more equal division of household and child rearing. In the US, studies have shown that when a baby arrives, working couples no longer share their housework equally, even when they did before (study). This was a pattern I didn’t want us to fall into.
So what did we do? My husband and I both took the first month off. Then I became the primary caregiver from months 2–10, though my husband took off 6 weeks of vacation throughout that time. He also works from home, and was able to support me during the day when needed. He will become primary caregiver when Grant is 10 months, and plans to take at least 3 months of paternity leave. We chose this split because I wanted to take about one year off of work, and because by the time Grant is 10 months he’ll be breastfeeding less and less dependent on me. I also wanted us to both experience being primary caregiver to develop our own parenting styles and build empathy for each other.
The thing I appreciate the most about this experience, is that I had the privilege of going back to work when I was ready. I took a total of 12 months off — something I never would be able to take, or even thought I’d want, in the US. Some moms are ready to return to work after 3 months, and others at 3 years. I didn’t have to choose between being a “stay-at-home-mom” or a “working mom” when I wasn’t ready. And throughout my leave, even though my day to day was being a full time caregiver, I considered myself a UX designer. This is an important part of my identity.
So what did I do with my time?
Continued breastfeeding
Not going back to work allowed me to continue breastfeeding on-demand. I didn’t need to pump, though I used the passive Haaka pump to collect extra milk for bottles.
Women in Berlin breastfeed practically everywhere– restaurants, playground, the Ubahn… No one bats an eye!
Rückbildungskurs / Pelvic floor class
Around 6–8 weeks after birth, many German women take a Rückbildungskurs to strengthen their pelvic floor. Pregnancy and childbirth can stress, stretch, and weaken the muscles in your pelvic floor and abdomen, which can cause pain and urinary incontinence. Germans don’t wait for a doctor’s diagnosis. Almost all women sign up for a course after their hebamme clears them. In the class, a physiotherapist walks you through a series of breathing and muscle exercises. This is also covered by health insurance.
This can also be a great way to get out of the house with your baby and meet other new moms in the neighborhood. Unfortunately I was only able to find an English course online.
Social worker visit
A few months after birth, a social worker contacted us for a home visit. I had never met a social worker before, and wasn’t sure what to expect. I was pleasantly surprised though! The woman came with a large folder of flyers: lists of pediatricians, local hospitals, family centers, and kitas (day cares). She reassured us that the local town hall could put us on a waitlist for kita (daycare), if we weren’t able to find a spot ourselves. This is a common concern of parents, as kita spots can be notoriously hard to find in Berlin. She also made sure we how to fill out all of the required German paperwork and navigate the bureaucracy.
Family Centers
As Ali Wong said in Hard Knock Wife, “when you’re a new mom on maternity leave it’s like The Walking Dead. You’ve just gotta hook up with a crew to survive.” Neighborhood family centers saved me, and helped me find my survival crew. All around Friedrichshain there are family centers with programming for kids and their parents. Many have free play times and classes such as “baby massage” and “yoga with baby.”
When Grant was around 4 months old, I started going to a “baby time” every Friday. With a facilitator, we went around sharing how each of our weeks went — recounting what’s changed with the baby, and checking in on how we are each doing. We sang some German songs and did some playful activities. It ended with a lovely breakfast and tea. The whole class was donation based.
Although it was tough for me to always understand what was going on in German, I managed to make one good friend from the group. When the class ended, we started going to drop-in “open play times.” Grant loved playing with all the new toys and structures, and I enjoyed some adult socialization. It can be incredibly lonely and isolating to be caring for your baby at home alone all day.
Kita / Daycare
I’m not going to say much about Kita (daycare), because unfortunately we will be leaving Germany before Grant can go to Kita (at one year of age). The most important fact though is that Kita is free. Yes, daycare is free in Berlin. Well, except for a €23 / month lunch fee.
Parents apply for a Kitagutschein voucher that determines the number of hours you qualify for based on their age and the number of hours the parents work. Most kitas don’t take babies under the age of one though. If you’re curious to learn more, this is a great guide.
Leaving Berlin
What?! You’re leaving Berlin? You might be surprised to learn after describing this seeming family utopia, we’ve decided to return to the US — the only rich country without federally mandated paid parental leave.
We miss our family.
I had a really hard time the weeks after my parents left Germany when Grant was three months old. My relationship with my parents, and my in-laws, has completely changed since becoming a parent myself. I call my parents almost every day, and can’t imagine having them only see Grant once or twice a year. I think that one of the best things we can do for Grant, and for our sanity, is to surround him with people that love him — which means moving closer to my family in the Bay Area.
We miss our friends.
Although it was hard to make many friends during the pandemic, we managed to make a few good friends in the past three years. However, almost all of them have now moved away as many were also expats, and went onto their next location. We know how important friendship is to our happiness, and how lonely and isolating parenting can be. Back in the bay area we have friends we’ve known for 10–20 years, and many of them are now having kids too. We’re actually planning to co-live with a friend I’ve known since birth!
We’re tired of speaking bad German.
We had grand plans to learn at least conversational German when we first moved here. We took a month-long intensive course, and then biweekly classes for the first year. But after a year we only made it to A.2, at best. When I got pregnant, I lacked the energy and motivation to continue. In the area we live in, we’re able to use English in our day-to-day encounters, but when we hit bureaucracy, it is all German. And becoming a parent doubled the amount of bureaucracy we’ve hit. I also couldn’t imagine not being able to speak to Grant’s daycare teachers fluently.
We want to continue working with our American employers, but want family friendly hours.
My husband and I continued to work for American companies when we moved to Berlin. He stayed with his previous company, and I started at Google Berlin. This meant we worked somewhat shifted hours, usually 10 am to 7 or 8pm, with a healthy midday break. This is not compatible with a baby’s schedule (3pm kita pickup, 5:30pm dinner, 7pm bedtime). From my experience, most Googlers in leadership positions based in Europe take a break to watch their kids, and then go back online from 8–10pm. This is not the lifestyle we want.
We want to establish a permanent home base.
To my husband’s dismay, the idea of moving back to the bay and staying there for the rest of our lives terrifies me. I’m not ready to stop our adventures! But I do agree that we’d like to establish a home base and permanent community. Maybe we’ll move to Taiwan or Singapore in 5 years though :)
My reflections
I’m extremely thankful for my experience from pregnancy to parental leave in Berlin. I know how lucky we are to be able to move here, have our parents stay with us, and work at well paying jobs. We are extremely privileged to get this new perspective on what having a baby can look like. I’ve had friends in the US who had to fight for time off from their employers or beg their doctors to take their pain seriously to get a PT referral. It would have been hard for me to advocate for myself during this tender and vulnerable time.
I am grateful that Germany welcomed us as a temporary residents (we have EU Blue Cards), and allowed me to qualify and pay for public health insurance. I’ve felt supported by the city and healthcare system, with community spaces and services that I didn’t even know I needed.
After 12 months off, I feel ready to return to work, and step aside to let my husband become the primary caregiver. Love you dear! :)
Thank you Owen and Kalvin for the edits, and Alana Range for the lovely photos.
