It’s the Summer of 1983, and 67-year-old Fernande is sitting in her courtyard in Port-au-Prince, Haiti, West Indies. To her right, Fernande is accompanied by her 27-year-old daughter, Maggie, who has traveled to visit her from Boston, Massachusetts. Though advanced in years and short in stature, these are merely matters of time and genetics, for Fernande is full of vitality and wit. To Fernande’s left sits her younger sister, Dormélia, and behind Dormélia stands a younger woman (possibly in her early 20s), who is plaiting Dormélia’s hair. As the recipient of this hair treatment naps, Fernande chats with her beloved visitor. Inside the home, the matriarch’s two-month-old granddaughter, who has accompanied her family on the trip from Boston, lays in a baby carrier. 

Forty-one years after that first encounter with my grandmother, I can't help but remember the fullness and wholeness that she embodied right up until her brief illness and passing in 2000. Now a wife and mother myself, these images speak to me differently than they had during my childhood. 

Then, they were merely photos taken during our family trip to Haiti. Now, to me they speak to the culture of care and support that benefits many women in the Caribbean and around the world.

In such countries, postpartum support isn't something to be coveted, planned, or its costs weighed and measured. Postpartum support is simply a given. Urban and rural communities, alike, shoulder the load of providing food, healing treatments, a listening ear, or even haircare (among other assistance) to the new matriarch… and the support may continue for decades as the woman’s duties do. Without prompting, the once newbie assumes the role of the maternal mentor.

The cooking of aromatic, made-from-scratch, ethnic dishes that promote healthy lactation and hormonal balance… the administering of herbal baths and massages that tighten the muscles and remove excess fluids… The real-time bequeathing of centuries-old wisdom that empowers the new mother with confidence and grit… Women who live within these contexts tend to experience a fullness that the majority of women in the U.S. don't grasp so easily. Rather, if even aware of our need for them, we often seek to piecemeal these sorts of experiences, regarding and paying for them as luxury costs.

What if we appropriately treated postpartum recovery as support for the whole woman? What if postpartum support was comprehensively approached and backed by our families, healthcare providers, employers, and social communities alike? If you have ever asked yourself these questions, what if your answer is Nenen?