I broke in: “Five children at home, homeschooling them, a small home…that’s an awful lot of pressure to put a woman under.”
“But like I said, you can see for yourself. Go look at the videos. We managed fine.”
Four years later, in 2005, when Matt Lauer interviewed Brooke Shields, she spoke openly about her struggles with postpartum depression and the fact that she had turned to antidepressants. That led to a famously heated segment where Tom Cruise—biceps bursting out of a too-tight black T-shirt—went on an anti-pharma tirade, blaming Matt for being uninformed. Cruise earned a lifetime spot on the highlights reel with “Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt, Matt…you’re glib.”
However bizarre that all was, the issue of postpartum depression and anxiety was finally coming out of the shadows. While celebrity magazines will never be able to resist those “bodies after babies” photos, it’s encouraging to see increased cultural interest in “brains after babies” and how we can better support new mothers. For those in deep trouble like Andrea Yates, who was tragically failed by the medical establishment, her insurance, and, to some degree, her husband, a fuller understanding of what they’re going through might allow them to get the help they need.
In many ways, I’ve witnessed this gradual but necessary evolution firsthand. The Women’s Health Initiative was launched in the early ’90s, just as I was starting at TODAY, after the hue and cry over the fact that most medical research was conducted on white men. It’s no surprise that it took a woman—Dr. Bernadine Healy, the first to head the NIH—to implement it. Even more heartening, female doctors have plenty of company today—more than half of med school students are women.
When it comes to reducing the stigma around women’s health, mommy bloggers deserve some credit too, building vast, vibrant communities of women who used to be ashamed about things like infertility, divorce, a breast cancer diagnosis, substance abuse, hating their kids sometimes, mental illness. On top of everything else ravaging Andrea Yates, she just seemed profoundly alone.
I had a massive support system: a flexible employer, the wherewithal to afford childcare, health insurance, a wealth of loved ones—all of which provided the scaffolding that helped me raise healthy, happy children. For so many American women, this simply isn’t the case. After all, we live in the only industrialized nation that doesn’t guarantee workers paid family leave, sending a clear message that the hard work of building a family just isn’t valued. I was one of the lucky ones. Every time I look at my girls, I can’t help but think how different life might have been.
24
Paging Mary Poppins
DURING THOSE DISCOMBOBULATING first weeks of parenthood, we had a baby nurse to help us out. Now, though, we needed to find a full-time nanny.
The idea of household help was really alien to me. Growing up, my only experience with someone handling so-called domestic duties was Emma Mudd, a soft-spoken woman with a patient smile that revealed a gold tooth who came every Tuesday to clean the house. I think my mom appreciated her company as much as her help.
The adult me found the notion of having anything resembling “staff” a little absurd; it seemed so pretentious, so upstairs/downstairs, when I knew I’d be more comfortable downstairs. But out of necessity, I was quickly adapting to the ways of the modern working mother, and if that meant outsourcing, I was prepared to do it.
Someone had recommended a firm called the International Nanny Agency, which sounded like a place that knew what it was doing. My contact there was a woman named Denise. With her elegant accent （South African or British, I was never sure which）， she seemed like just the person to help us find our “practically perfect in every way” Mary Poppins.
Denise sent a steady stream of candidates to my office at 30 Rock. One after another, they’d take a seat on my chintz sofa. I’d pull up a chair and start the interview, fumbling around while asking questions about their work experience, doing my best to explain what they’d be walking into: a first-time mom with a high-wattage job and a husband living 240 miles away.
Initially, I was drawn to a fresh-faced Irish woman, but Jay wanted someone more mature. He was interested in meeting a candidate we’ll call Doris who, at 46, was not only more experienced but also had celebrities like Bianca Jagger and Diana Ross on her resumé. Impressed （and slightly intimidated） by her pedigree, we figured she understood the unique challenges of caring for the offspring of well-known people. Denise assured me Doris would be just right and that her references were stellar. So we offered her a job as Ellie’s live-in nanny Monday through Friday; she’d have the weekends off to do as she pleased.