You Don’t Send a Cry to Headquarters — You Hold

I was feeling so angry on Wednesday morning. I asked my mom’s friend, who goes to a famous pediatric chain — I will not mention their name, but if you know, you know.

So, back to the question. I asked my mom’s friend who goes there if she could bring my flyer about a postpartum support group for new moms to the office. The response that I heard really got me enraged. Apparently, there is no way they can just bring a flyer about local providers who are helping moms — the flyer has to be mailed to the main office and has to be approved.

I also recalled my earlier attempts to talk to the local branch, trying to tell them that I am a local postpartum therapist providing therapy in Russian and English, and the receptionist talked to me as if I were an alien.

They are famous for their “excellent” pediatrics. But what is excellence when it comes to being a pediatrician? Of course, making the right diagnosis is important — but what about mothers’ mental health?

The culture makes referrals so difficult, and local providers are not known. What “excellence” are they talking about? It reminds me of the place I came from — a communist country. We had loud mission statements on paper, but people suffered in silence. There was a hush culture around mental health — and God forbid, especially maternal mental health.

Moms were supposed to be happy, grateful to be mothers, and self-sacrificing. Pediatricians were the “experts,” often shaming moms. So we are back to my childhood.

Why is it 2025 and maternal mental health — and the mother’s part in the tribe — is still not part of what we call excellence when it comes to baby and mother care?

Is the system built to gaslight and hush maternal mental health? Yes, it’s sadly true. Apparently, even to connect to the local mom and tribe, it has to be approved by the “experts from above.” Pediatricians can’t make their own decisions; they have to consult. Wow. I’m speechless.

Does child mental health really matter? How can a child’s mental health be separated from the parents?

In this moment of rage, I also want to acknowledge the “old-school pediatricians.” I remember when I was dealing with early postpartum struggles, I joined a La Leche League group, and the leader gave me a flyer about the group to share with my pediatrician. My pediatrician was very appreciative of this information. Her office was in the basement, and she did not have loud mission statements or a patient portal. She was listening to her intuition, as not only was she a pediatrician, but a mom and an immigrant. A few months later, another Russian-speaking mom joined the group, and long story short, we became best friends — and our kids became best friends. That’s how it’s supposed to be.

I also want to recall the famous pediatrician, mother advocate, and psychoanalyst — Donald Winnicott — who hosted a popular radio show about parenting from 1943 to 1960. He emphasized the importance of a “holding environment” for mothers to provide optimal care for their children. What does “holding environment” mean in simple terms?

Think about a mom in the nursery. The baby is crying. The mom hears the cry and rushes to pick the baby up. She holds the baby and tries to figure out what the baby needs — is the baby hungry, needs to be changed, lonely, or overstimulated? She tries intuitively to soothe the baby. But first things first — the cry is real and needs to be addressed.

Now think about the pediatrician and the postpartum mom. The mom’s exhaustion, isolation, and stress are important and need to be held and addressed.

The baby learns that they can cry, that they are allowed to express needs — or, if ignored, the baby may learn that crying doesn’t bring any change, like babies in orphanages or institutions. They learn to cry quietly or stop crying altogether because nobody cares.

So, what about the tired new mom in the pediatrician’s office? Is she allowed to voice her needs and be heard? Or do her needs not matter?

Maybe my anger this morning wasn’t just about one flyer. It was about the silence that still surrounds mothers. The truth is, every system needs to learn what good mothers already know — when someone cries, you don’t send it to headquarters for approval. You listen.

You don’t need a Joe from upper management to tell me that what I’m doing “needs to be approved.” We deserve to be seen, heard, and held — just because, not when another upper party decides.