I gave birth in Britain and France - one country's postnatal care was so much better
After giving birth in the UK and France, one mum reveals the surprising difference that made her feel truly cared for.
Claire McAteer
- Claire McAteer
Published: October 9, 2026 at 1:13 PM
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When I fell pregnant with my first baby, I was living in the Cotswolds, with my husband – a pilot in the military.
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I was lucky enough not to suffer any pregnancy symptoms. In fact, sometimes I didn’t think I was pregnant.
My 12-week scan showed me I absolutely was.
Everything went smoothly. At my appointments, I loved how the midwife marvelled at the heartbeat with me. After my second scan at 20 weeks, I was surprised there would be no more now until I gave birth.
But it all felt quite magical. I trusted my body to do the rest.
With my husband overseas a lot, I didn’t attend NCT classes. Instead, we listened to birth podcasts and did an online hypnobirthing course to prepare.
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My first birth was everything I'd hoped for
As I was deemed low risk, we decided to go for a water birth.
I worked up until my due date and eventually six days after my due date, my contractions started.
It was exactly the birth I'd hoped for.
Luckily, the midwife-led unit where I gave birth at Swindon Hospital was empty. I had a brilliant midwife, Corinne, and a student midwife to support too.
It was exactly the birth I’d hoped for, albeit slightly more painful than the hypnobirthing course led me to believe! A gym ball and an eye mask got me through – as well as my husband.
With Eddie after giving birth in the midwife unit at a Swindon hospital. Claire McAteer
I relied totally on Corinne who told me when to push. And when I felt scared about seeing the head emerge and not the body, she reassured me the baby could still breathe under water.
Minutes later with the next contraction I was holding our son, Eddie – all 9lb 4oz of him.
I had a minor tear, but I was expertly sewn up and, thanks to pain relief, didn’t feel a thing.
Nobody prepared me for what came after
The post-birth tea and toast was amazing. Sitting there, sipping tea and looking at my newborn, felt like a special rite of passage.
Surprisingly, I was offered the chance to stay the next night too. Looking back, it’s my biggest regret I didn’t say yes.
Because whilst I was prepared for pregnancy and birth. I was not prepared for the fourth trimester. I struggled with feeding and sleep deprivation hit hard. Eddie only slept for 30 minutes at a time.
Health visitors came, but it felt very superficial. They didn’t know me, it was a different person each time.
I struggled at first with feeding issues with Eddie, but put on a brave face. Claire McAteer
The focus was largely on Eddie – his weight, his feeding – rather than on me. I was determined to be perfect, so didn’t want to let on anything was wrong.
I did try to get breastfeeding support. I was sure I had low supply. No sleep and stress does that.
But I was always told I was doing a good job and to just keep going.
The focus was on Eddie - his weight, his feeding - rather than on me.
When I said how tired I was, I remember one health visitor telling me that “as long as I was getting around 4-6 hours per night”, I’d be fine. I was getting nowhere near that.
My six-week GP check was disappointing too. She didn’t check my stitches or my tummy for diastases recti.
The hormone crash was hard and there were a lot of tears at night and pleading with Eddie to sleep.
I loved my birth at Swindon. But I can’t say I enjoyed much of what came after.
With my midwife Corinne at Swindon Hospital. Claire McAteer
Then I found myself pregnant in another country
When I was pregnant with my second it was a totally different experience. We moved to France at 20 weeks pregnant thanks to an opportunity with the French Airforce for my husband.
Most British people qualify for free health care in France; you just need the right documents. I was covered for treatment because of my husband’s military exchange role. So, I booked my 20-week scan at the local hospital.
It was carried out by an obstetrician. In France, they play a much bigger role in prenatal care, and a lot of women have all their checks with them instead of a midwife.
In France they monitor everything – and sometimes it felt like too much
The scan itself was far more thorough than my UK ones. It’s common to have extra scans too. There’s an obligatory extra one for all women in the third trimester too.
Through broken English, he ticked off every single part of my baby in the scan. And measured everything. It’s like he was looking for an issue. I missed just hearing a heartbeat like I had at my midwife appointments in England.
For some, his approach would feel incredibly reassuring. But for me it felt too medical.
It didn’t help that I had my toddler in tow (children are allowed into scans there unlike the UK).
It made me miss the UK system. I realised in France they like to over-test.
The doctor weighed me at each appointment too. And told me to lay off sugar! He said my baby was very big.
Eddie had been big and Rob and I are both tall. I also eat very healthily. I was sent for a gestational diabetes test and I totally fretted. Thankfully, it came back negative. It made me miss the UK system. I realised France like to over test.
I was also told because I’d had one big baby already, I was high risk and “most French women would opt for a caesarean”.
He explained all babies born over 9lbs had to have an obligatory hip scan too.
It made me doubt myself and my decision to try for a natural birth.
Feeling quite negative leaving his appointments, I asked to change to midwife care only. It was late in the process, and it meant for a while I missed a few checks.
However, in France you’re entitled to free prenatal yoga and birth preparation classes with a midwife. So, I started this alongside my medical appointments, and it was exactly what I was looking for.
The strangest antenatal class I've ever attended
The birth preparation sessions were in a pool. And they were unexpectedly joyful.
One underwater exercise included us attempting to shout French baby names at each other.
Another involved us linking together in the water like a long floating caterpillar and the midwife swimming beneath blowing bubbles and making waves. Baffling and brilliant. I absolutely loved it.
It felt empowering to be around other pregnant women trusting their bodies.
The yoga focused both on breathing and relaxing in pregnancy as well as positions and breathwork for a better birth. I followed along as best as I could with my limited French.
In England the pregnancy yoga sessions had been so expensive, I only went to a few.
My second labour lasted just two and a half hours
In France, epidurals and caesareans are more common. Ironically, despite it being a French doctor who pioneered the water birth, water births aren’t usually an option for women. And there were no midwife-led units like in the UK.
I also had to have a mandatory anaesthetist appointment. It makes sense in theory, in case you needed an epidural or caesarean on the day. But in practice, I found it subtly persuasive. I had to watch a video that told me the pain of an epidural is less than the pain of contractions. That felt more like a bit of a nudge to me.
Saying goodbye to our wonderful 'puericultrice' (paediatric nurse) in France, also called Corrine! Claire McAteer
With the language barrier and the knowledge that a lot of births in France become medical, I used Google Translate and Chat GPT to write my birth plan. I wanted it to be as low-intervention as possible.
My second labour was astonishingly fast. Contractions began around 10pm, and by 12:30am, I was pushing.
I gave birth in the 'salle nature’, the only room for vaginal births. It had a pool and was dimly lit. As soon as I got in the pool, my pain eased. Then the midwife said I could stay in for the birth if I wanted.
Shocked, but also in the full throes of labour, I stayed in. I tried not to think about what would happen if things went wrong.
Instead, I trusted my body and my husband to get me through.
Thankfully it all worked and I held our 9lb baby girl, Josephine in my arms.
Again, I suffered a minor tear and had to be sewn up. They did it without local anaesthetic and that was unbelievably painful.
I wasn’t sure if it was the language barrier or the fact I said I wanted to be low intervention that they assumed I wanted to be drug free.
The biggest difference wasn't the birth
The biggest difference between giving birth in England and France came after the birth – and it’s one that surprised me. Because it made me see how much I’d struggled after my first birth in England.
I didn’t receive tea and toast. However, no matter what birth you’ve had, you’re kept in hospital afterwards usually for a few nights. And the care I received afterwards was exceptional.
There was a clear message - the mother matters too.
There were two dedicated teams: one for my baby, and one for me. They even wore different coloured uniform. It gave a clear message. The mother matters too.
When the hormone crash came, I had a team of experts to reassure me. They nipped any anxieties the bud. I didn’t have to Google anything at 2am. The night team were there with answers and kind words.
Eddie with Josie and waving goodbye to the two care teams in hospital in Orléans Claire McAteer
I was worried about how long to let Josephine sleep (they said five hours was fine unlike in the UK where I was told to wake Eddie every two hours). It meant I got way more sleep. There was a nursery where midwives could take Josephine for a few hours between feeds so I could sleep.
I felt a little bit anxious. But they reassured me they’d bring her back if she cried or needed me. It’s like they totally understood how I felt as a new mum. Extremely protective of my new baby but also desperate for sleep.
The sleep was game-changing and accepting help was big for me. Not pretending I could do it all.
For the first time, I felt like the patient
In addition to my recovery checks, I was given feeding support and a visit from a maternal psychologist. At first, I wasn’t sure he could offer me much. But his words were exactly what I needed to hear: ‘Your baby is alive. That is enough.’
He explained so many mums try to be perfect, but in fact what we do in those early days is already more than enough.
They totally understood how I felt as a new mum.
I felt so cared for that I almost felt like an imposter!
As you’d expect in France, there was delicious cheese and real bread with every meal and plenty of croissants. And it was all devised to support recovery.
But as staff there reminded me: recovery from birth is not a footnote – it’s a phase that deserves real attention.
And this is where I think France pulls ahead when it comes to giving birth. I left hospital feeling so happy.
And the care continued. The midwife I’d seen for my birth preparation came to see me at my house, as is the norm after births in France. Not a health visitor you’ve never met.
I felt so cared for that I almost felt like an imposter!
She did a check of my stitches and my tummy.
Then at my six-weeks check, she did a more thorough check of my cervix. It didn’t feel invasive. It felt like she was making sure I was okay.
The free 'vagina gym' every French mum is offered
Most women in France are routinely prescribed postnatal rehabilitation – usually 10 sessions with a midwife or a pelvic floor physiotherapist.
“Sessions are focused on rebuilding the pelvic floor and core strength. You don’t have to pay for it, which sends a message that it’s important.
I can't even imagine having the same sessions provided for free in England.
The physio talked me through how women should be able to live without pain, exercise safely and enjoy sex! I can’t even imagine having the same sessions provided for free in England.
In the UK you’re left to build your body alone. It’s no wonder I know lots of people with bad backs or pelvic floor problems.
Britain helped me give birth. France helped me recover.
Aiming to look as chic as the French mums wearing my Flybaby 3D knit carrier! Claire McAteer
So, which is better?
It’s tempting to frame this as a simple comparison. But the truth is more nuanced.
I loved my pregnancy care and birth in England. However, I loved how in France I wasn’t just discharged as a mother of a baby. I was a patient in my own right.
For me the physical challenge of becoming a parent wasn’t the hard bit, it was the mental challenge – how to cope with the identity shift while getting by on very little sleep.
My postpartum experience in France was incredibly healing. Those first few days in the care of expert midwives was invaluable for me.
“It made me realise how much I'd struggled after my first birth and helped me be kinder to myself about the challenges I'd overcome.
A friend recently asked me whether French mums really are more stylish.
It's a stereotype, of course, but I have to admit that many of the women I've met here seem effortlessly put together.
One new mother I met at a postnatal yoga class was so polished and composed that I was mesmerised. As we chatted, she told me her baby was already on a routine and sleeping through the night.
Perhaps she was just lucky. But Ialso wonder whether some of that confidence comes from knowing you've been properly supported from the very beginning.
That's the biggest difference I experienced. Not the scans, the birth plans or even the births themselves. It was the feeling that my recovery mattered too.
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Britain helped me give birth. France helped me find myself again afterwards.
Authors
Claire McAteer
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