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I can’t stop thinking about Amy.

Who is Amy, you might be wondering?

A friend from near or far? Amy Poehler, the star of Parks and Rec (a very noteworthy Amy indeed)? The memorable little girl from Justin Cronin's The Passage trilogy? A neighbour, a ghost, a bus driver? There really are an abundance of great Amys in the world.

However, I'm afraid that none of these possibilities are quite on the money. Lately, it's Amy Sosa who has been on my mind. Kind, responsible, fair and hard-working Amy Sosa of Superstore. The friend of many. The meddler of business that isn’t hers. The let’s-do-the-right thing, the let’s-wear-a-fake-nametag, the ever-relatable and seeker-of-justice Amy.



A quick break for a Very Important Memo: if you haven’t already seen Superstore, you really need to get on it. It’s hilarious, it has great diversity, and best yet it’s on Netflix, divided into bite-sized episodes that are the perfect length for when you’re exhausted but sleep isn’t an option because every evening is Buffet Style Feast Time for the babe. It perfectly captures the family-esque dynamic within a customer service team, while making one weirdly nostalgic about their own experiences. It's also somehow light-hearted yet meaningful, so it's the perfect comfort for a sleep deprived, baby mush brain.

Anyway, back to our lovely Amy and rather a miserable spoiler of sorts. When Amy has her son Parker, she is under the impression that she has six weeks of parental leave from her job as floor manager at the big box store, Cloud 9. For us here in NZ, getting a measly six weeks away from your stressful, entitled-customer-appeasing and mysterious-spill-mopping role, because you have a baby, sounds pretty grim. But to Amy and most other Americans, six weeks of leave is apparently something to celebrate.


But of course it gets worse! To cut a long story short, Amy is unable to get leave and has to go back to work two days after she gives birth as otherwise, she’ll lose her job. Being a single mum, she has no choice but to return so that she can support her family.

And I can’t stop thinking about her.

She isn’t even real, but her story is. Countless times over.

So she returns to work, exhausted and sore beyond reason. She’s engorged and has to pump in a cleaning closet alongside Sayid, a Syrian refugee who has to use the closet to pray. She cries while serving customers at the checkout when the day three blues hit. She wanders around the store trying to return stock, but is utterly confused due to exhaustion. It's heart-breaking stuff, I tell you, and if you’ve had a baby you too will just want to wrap her up in a tight hug. 


The fourth trimester is such a vulnerable time, and to not have the space to recover must be nothing short of traumatic. This isn’t to say that people shouldn’t return to work soon after having a baby if that’s what they want, but rather that they shouldn’t be forced to return sooner than they are ready for. The space and freedom to make that decision is essential.


Amy deserves to be at home with her beautiful baby, to take every opportunity to rest and heal. With any type of birth, your body goes through a lot (understatement of the century) and it might be a while before you don’t feel like you’re going to crumple in the middle each time you stand straight. She should be having people bring her food, tucking her into clean sheets, and buying her nappies. She should be kissing her baby’s nose, having people ask how she is, really, and she should be getting hugs and reassurance through all those hormone fluctuations. She should be cared for and allowed to rest without worrying about making ends meet.

It’s hard to properly explain why this really got to me. Maybe it’s because I’m in that tricky fourth trimester too and all those post-birth feelings are still way too fresh. I keep thinking I’m out of it and that everything is okay, but every so often something minor like a sitcom will remind me that I’m still in the thick of it too and that this is all right. You don’t have to forge and race ahead through this tricky time. It will pass on its own, and especially well if you’re able to give it the space to do so by making your own decisions. 

It’s also so sad that it took the struggle of a fictional character for me to even imagine what other people who birth in countries such as the U.S have to go through. My heart breaks for everyone that has been in Amy’s position. Postpartum is a wild enough ride without the threat of losing your job hanging over you, and needing to lift heavy boxes when your baby is barely out of the womb.

And don’t even get me started on the healthcare that Amy receives (or perhaps doesn’t receive would be more apt) when she gives birth, all because she doesn’t have the correct insurance plan to receive better care. Birthing people’s healthcare is a major issue worldwide, but I can’t deal with this many emotions in one night.

P.S. Today I went shopping with my youngest to get birthday presents for my oldest and while I was strapping the babe into the carrier, an older lady asked if I was okay. She was so nice that it made me want to cry. I was fine by the way; never mind the resting bitch face, I think I have a resting forlorn face. Regardless, when strangers are kind or they make me feel seen, it makes me feel all the feelz. BRB having a wee cry.

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