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As I eagerly awaited the arrival of my first baby this past spring, I was caught off guard by other parents who seemed determined to rain on my parade with doomsday attitudes about what was to come. One warning that was received too many times to count: “You are going to die without a night nurse.”
Now five months postpartum, I can say that I didn’t die without a night nurse. However, sometimes I felt like I was dying. My premature son barely slept for the first two months of his life—which meant I wasn’t sleeping either. It was so challenging that I can’t even look at pictures from those early weeks without feeling something akin to post-traumatic stress disorder.
There was, however, one shining exception: The two days my new family spent at the Ahma & Co postnatal retreat at the Waldorf Astoria Monarch Beach in Dana Point, California. The 48-hour reprieve, two weeks into the postpartum haze, rescued me from rock bottom and fortified me for the journey ahead.
Ahma & Co is one of the latest additions to a blossoming postpartum retreat industry in the United States. It joins Fourth Trimester in Chicago, Sanu in Washington D.C., Boram in NYC, Ìyá in Fort Worth, Yuzi in Seattle, and The Village in San Francisco in an effort to revolutionize—or, at least expand—postpartum care. These retreats take inspiration from robust postnatal care customs around the world—most notably, South Korea’s popular postpartum care centers, which feature around-the-clock infant care, massages, facials, fresh meals, and child-care classes, and can involve stays of up to a month.
Ahma & Co co-founder Esther Park, who was raised in South Korea, describes postpartum care in her home country as “an established and a cherished tradition. It’s considered a recognized rite of passage,” she says. When she emigrated to the States, Park says she was surprised by the contrasting lack of support offered to new mothers. “Maternal care [in the U.S.] is focused on pregnancy and birthing,” she says. “After you give birth, attention immediately shifts to the baby, and moms are left to fend for themselves.”
This observation isn’t unique to Park. Psychologists Bridget Freihart and Maytal Eyal, co-founders of the women’s health education platform Gather, describe the postpartum period in America as a “striking gap” in care. They note that while pregnant women might see their OB-GYN 10 to 15 times, postpartum care often consists of just one or two visits. Health risks during this period aren’t negligible, either; Freihart says one in three new mothers will develop a chronic health issue after giving birth, and 40% develop a pelvic floor disorder.
Women also tend to enter into this stage of life grossly underprepared: Eyal notes that 88% of women report feeling ill-equipped to move through the postpartum period. “It’s commonplace for an expectant mother to take a birth education class, but rare and virtually unheard of for her to receive postpartum education,” she says.
This lack of systemic support is compounded by an absence of community, says Freihart. “Throughout human evolution, new mothers were surrounded by a robust community, not just after giving birth, but in the years that followed,” she says. “Because modern American society is fundamentally fragmented and highly individualistic, it’s extremely difficult to recreate these supportive conditions.”
All of this leaves new mothers vulnerable to mental health challenges. Perinatal psychologist Nichelle Haynes, DO, says most women experience some form of the “baby blues” after giving birth—symptoms of which can vary, but often include mood swings, sadness, irritability, overwhelm, and fatigue—and many face even more significant psychiatric issues. Even if not, she adds, the transition to motherhood can be overwhelming. It often brings “feelings of guilt, inadequacy, and increased stress as women adjust to new roles, disrupted sleep, and the demands of caring for a newborn,” she says. “Navigating this adjustment period is challenging.”
As an American mother, I experienced this perfect storm of neglect firsthand. While I was screened for postpartum depression the day I checked out of the hospital after giving birth, this was, in my opinion, far too early to discern anything. At that point, I was actually experiencing postpartum euphoria, which is essentially the opposite of the baby blues. I was flying but would soon crash. My next touchpoint occurred two weeks later via a postpartum follow-up with my obstetrician, who checked my C-section incision site and sent me on my way. My son’s pediatrician never asked me a question about myself, despite the fact that I cried through every appointment during his newborn phase.
In those early weeks, I felt as though I had been stranded on a desert island. When I washed up at Ahma & Co. I hadn’t slept more than three hours—cumulatively, not consecutively—per night for over two weeks. I was constantly crying. Breastfeeding hurt, my C-section site hurt, and I couldn’t figure out why the baby wouldn’t sleep for more than an hour at a time. This chronic sleep deprivation had led to postpartum rage, and I’m not proud to admit I’d yelled at my baby in the middle of the night, which left me tortured by guilt. At the same time, I was experiencing intrusive thoughts about bad things happening to the baby, so I was hypervigilant, too. And while my partner was heavily involved, he was sleeping separately at night so that he could help out during the day. My mom lived several states away. We had recently moved, so my friends didn’t live close enough to help out, either—and besides, they were busy with their own lives and families. No one was coming to save me. Except for Ahma & Co.
Leading up to the visit, Park had put me in touch with the company’s community lead, doula Gigi Vera Vincent. Her job was to help out as needed prior to my stay, a very welcome service included with every Ahma & Co booking. In those earliest postpartum days, I texted Vincent questions about breastfeeding and pumping, which she answered to the best of her ability while offering to connect me with lactation specialists. I mentioned how much I was struggling, and she responded by offering to connect me with a postpartum doula who could come by for a few hours a day to give me a break—a much-needed lifeline.
Park and DeJesus tell me they’ve since formally expanded Ahma’s pre-birth care. Expectant mothers who book now get access to birthing classes led by full-spectrum care doulas and “pregnancy circles,” which give expectant mothers an opportunity to ask doulas questions about infant care and postpartum life, and to build community with other moms-to-be. “Once the baby arrives, it’s very hectic,” Park says. “We want to make sure we’re setting you up with as much support as possible in advance.”
When my family arrived at the Waldorf Astoria two weeks after my son was born, Park and her staff greeted us in the lobby. After helping us check in, they walked us up to the Ahma & Co parents’ lounge, which is available to parents 24/7 and features on-call doulas who can answer questions, help with breastfeeding, and general support.
Before sending us to our room, the Ahma & Co staff presented me with an itinerary. I cried when I saw a massage on the agenda. A foot soak, which I ended up enjoying while breastfeeding one day, was on the menu as well. Also included was a Babywearing 101 workshop—which is just one of several workshops on offer, including Mental Health and Matrescence, Couples Connection, and Infant Massage and Affirmations. Though these workshops technically run on a set schedule, Park says guests’ experiences are tailored to their needs. If Babywearing, for example, doesn’t happen to land on one of the days of your stay but you’re interested, the team will make sure you get that education regardless.
Our room was only a few doors down from the lounge and was as luxuriously outfitted as one might expect from a Waldorf Astoria. It featured a 535 square-foot deluxe king room with a balcony and was kitted out with newborn and postpartum essentials, including diapering gear, Nanit swaddles, pads, a peri bottle, and more—the norm for all Ahma & Co guests. There was also a welcome basket full of goodies for mama, including Biodance sheet masks, Tilden non-alcoholic cocktail mix, and Chiyo snacks. Best of all, my newborn son received a tiny Waldorf Astoria bathrobe embroidered with his name, which remains a favorite to this day.
The nursery is in an adjoining room. Each bassinet features wheels so that it can be transported to and from your room—all you have to do is message the doulas via a linked app, and someone will either drop off or pick up your baby. In the nursery, bassinets are outfitted with Nanit cameras so that you can watch your baby via a live feed on a provided tablet. “Our bassinets are made with antimicrobial material,” says Park. “That way, we don’t have to constantly expose newborns to a lot of cleaning chemicals.
Though my partner had to return home after getting me settled due to work, Ahma & Co’s services are designed to include the non-birthing partner, too. “A lot of dads don’t get involved because they’re not equipped with the information,” says Park. “We want them to receive the education to feel confident not just in parenting but in how they can support moms as they go through their recovery as well. Our goal is to take care of the whole family unit, and make sure they’re getting resources right from the start to thrive.”
While I would have liked him to stay, I hardly noticed his departure because it was time for my massage—which meant it was also time to “baby-step” into letting someone else care for my newborn. Though I hadn’t handed him over to anyone aside from the NICU nurses, I felt reassured by the knowledge that Ahma & Co had thoroughly vetted their doula staff. Each candidate is subject to multiple interviews, a background check, and references from others in the tight-knit birth workers community—what Park calls a “social check.” I could also rest assured knowing that my son had not one but two doulas caring for him at any moment; There are always at least two doulas on call, and never more than five families staying at one time.
After the massage, I messaged the doulas to bring my son back into the room so I could breastfeed him. I then ordered room service. All meals—which are designed by the postpartum meal service Chiyo—are included in an Ahma & Co stay. The menu includes nutrient-dense recipes such as Forbidden Rice Bibimbap, Chia Pudding with Tropical Fruit, and Tofu Katsu and Seaweed Soup, in large portions to fit the needs of a voracious breastfeeding-induced appetite.
I was absolutely desperate for sleep, but I hadn’t yet decided if I was going to send my baby to the nursery overnight. However, after some internal debate—and a poll of my mom friends on Instagram—I messaged the team to pick him up for the night. I still had to either breastfeed him or pump overnight, but the amount of time the doulas saved me by settling and soothing him amounted to hours of additional rest. I was starting to get why a night nurse is such a strong recommendation.
My Oura ring says I slept six hours and 24 minutes that night—a vast improvement over the average of 90 minutes I’d been getting. The next day, I felt more alive than I had in weeks. I took a long walk around the gorgeous property with my new baby, and spent quite a bit of time in the lounge asking the doulas a million questions about infant care and breastfeeding. I can’t underscore enough how invaluable this aspect of the service felt.
That night, my partner returned, and we took advantage of doula care to go on a dinner date to Aveo, one of the resort’s several on-property restaurants. We’d never felt more disconnected than we had since the baby was born—and though we didn’t know it at the time, it would be a long while before we’d be able to spend such quality time together again. After dinner, we enjoyed an overnight cuddle sans baby.
The next morning, it was time to check out. With so much to do, and so much sleep to get, I didn’t end up finding time to attend my baby-wearing workshop. This was a bit of a bummer, and it’s why Park says parents may benefit from longer stays. “Our minimum is three nights, and what we would say is that three nights is great if you want to come in and just catch up on your rest, but if you want a little more than that, if you want to dive deeper into learning and setting a routine and taking advantage of our resources and experts, then five nights is great,” she says.
I would have stayed 100 nights, and I cried when it was time to leave. But it wasn’t until we departed that I learned of what I came to see as the most valuable aspect of Ahma & Co's services: extensive post-retreat support.
Over the course of the next few months, I texted Vincent with questions about infant care an uncountable number of times. She helped me through a severe bout of Covid when my baby was just four weeks old, a subsequent loss of the ability to breastfeed, and so much more. She connected me with lactation consultants, pediatric occupational therapists, and postpartum doulas who could help me out at home. In many instances, I don’t know who else I would have texted had I not had this resource available to me. It makes the entire enterprise—pricey as it is—totally worthwhile.
Of course, there is nothing truly budget-friendly about the cost of Ahma & Co and other postpartum retreats in the US, which Park and DeJesus acknowledge. “Our prices aren’t necessarily due to the stay at Waldorf—they’ve been an amazing partner. They’re due to the 24/7, high-quality care [we offer],” says Park. She and DeJesus are hoping they’ll be able to leverage efficiencies to reduce these costs as their business expands, but in the meantime, they’re trying to work with insurance on reimbursements to increase access.
So far, this has looked like providing clients with itemized bills to share with their insurance providers, and DeJesus says they have had some luck in getting a portion of their services—like lactation and postpartum support—reimbursed, though coverage for the stay as a whole remains a challenge. Park also says they’re specifically targeting partnerships with women’s-health-specific insurers like Progyny and Carrot, which currently offer coverage for doula services. “Our north star is to make high-quality, around-the-clock postpartum care in the early weeks accessible to everyone,” says Park. “This is just step one for us,” says Park.
Recently, I came across an Instagram post that said something to the effect of, ‘If our ancestors found themselves alone with a newborn baby, it would cause them a tremendous amount of stress and anxiety, because it would mean their odds of survival were not good.’ When framed this way, postpartum depression and anxiety become less a fact of life and more circumstantial—something that can be improved with more support in place. My postpartum retreat offered me an approximation of the village that helped millions of mothers before me survive at their most vulnerable. “We live in an age where we’re more isolated than ever,” says Park. “The culture has changed, and the solutions to support moms and parents and families have to evolve to meet the needs from this cultural change.”