I haven’t written in a long time, and there were objective reasons for that. At the same time, my wife has been insisting for a while now that I simply must write about childbirth, as a male perspective on this topic is somehow more valuable than a female one. Well, the stars have aligned, and I’ve become a father once again, so all the impressions and experiences are very fresh.

As you may know, I’m practically a heroic father, as I now have five children. The first three were born in Minsk, Belarus, and the last two — in Lefkosia, Cyprus. Each time, I did my best to be as present at the births as possible (to the extent allowed by medical practices). So, I have plenty to compare. I’ll try to describe the whole nine-month process. I should clarify that our experience is based on private clinics. Some aspects will surely differ in public hospitals.

Pregnancy

I won’t describe the basics of conception — as adults, we all understand that. So, let’s begin with what follows.

When we first moved to Cyprus, my wife was hesitant to communicate in English with an English-speaking gynecologist, as she hadn’t practiced the language in a while. So she asked me to accompany her and help with translation. At that time, I didn’t even know the terminology in Russian, but a wife is a wife. After a few years, I had a solid grasp of the vocabulary, so now my gynecologist and I are practically talk the same language. I’m not sure how this will benefit me in the future, but at least I could fully discuss the course of the pregnancy and childbirth.

Probably the first and most significant difference is that husbands are allowed to accompany their wives almost everywhere here. As you’ve gathered, even accompanying your wife to the gynecologist is perfectly normal. Of course, if a wife doesn’t want to share some intimate procedures, the husband can always be asked to step out. But that’s a decision for the couple. The doctor is fine with either option. In Belarus, you’re not always allowed to accompany your wife to every specialist.

In Belarus, pregnancy is more strictly regulated. There’s a concept of “registering” for pregnancy, regular check-ups with a specialist assigned based on your residence, and so on. I’m not too familiar with all the details there. In Cyprus, there are no formalities — you just go to your own gynecologist. Once you’re pregnant, the same gynecologist will monitor you, unless you want someone else for this task. And it’s the gynecologist who will determine what you need and when. One doctor. No multiple specialists in different parts of the city.

Each (I repeat, each) gynecologist visit includes an ultrasound. Sometimes they also check if the cervix has opened. Why did I emphasize this? Because in Belarus, ultrasounds are only done two or three times during the entire pregnancy. Here, at every gynecologist visit, you can see your baby. And they’ll print photos of the best angles for you each time. This is part of a standard appointment — not a special service for an extra fee. In theory, they could probably make a video, but we never asked.

You’ll need to take a few tests, like blood work, a couple of times during the pregnancy. But only 2-3 times unless there are complications or suspicions from the doctor. This is the second major difference from Belarusian healthcare, where you’re constantly taking tests according to a strict schedule. Heaven forbid you miss one on time. Whether this is good or bad is debatable — it’s just a different approach. You take tests during your gynecologist visit, and then the doctor sends them to the lab. Later, they’ll inform you of the results over the phone or at your next visit.

You only need to take tests separately in rare and very specific cases. For example, during my wife’s last two pregnancies, her blood sugar levels were very high. For checking blood sugar, she had to go to a lab separately because the test is done in several stages with hour-long intervals.

Another issue we’ve always encountered is the Rh incompatibility. That’s when the husband has a positive Rh factor, and the wife has a negative one, meaning the baby could inherit the father’s Rh factor. This creates a Rh incompatibility — the mother’s immune system starts “fighting” the Rh-positive fetus’s antigens by producing anti-Rh antibodies. This is easily managed nowadays with anti-D antibody injections. The test itself is done by the gynecologist, but for the injection, we were sent to a private maternity clinic, where the procedure took 5-10 minutes, even if you arrived at night.

And that’s pretty much the entire monitoring process with the gynecologist. You just go for check-ups, sometimes do additional tests. Once you have an extended ultrasound (over an hour), where the doctor checks the fetus for various abnormalities. At first, the pregnant woman visits the doctor once a month. From the second trimester, it’s every two weeks. And closer to the due date, it’s once a week.

One of the great things about private doctors in Cyprus is that you can call them at any time of the day or night. On weekends or in the middle of the night, if something’s wrong or you think something’s wrong, you call the gynecologist. They’ll either give you advice over the phone or ask you to come to their office for an exam. We made a few trips at 2 a.m. The doctor would get up from bed and go check on us. Sometimes he charged the usual fee for the exam, and sometimes nothing at all.

Childbirth

Now, let’s smoothly transition to the topic of childbirth. In both cases in Cyprus, we arrived at the hospital “in advance,” rather than when contractions had already started. Maybe it’s due to my wife’s experience. The first time, we decided to induce labor since the boy was large by the doctor’s standards, and the second time, my wife felt that things were generally moving towards labor. So, we arrived at the hospital calm, not in panic and screaming. How things go in more urgent situations, I don’t know — we never had to deal with that, and I doubt we will again.

Once again, I’m not sure how things are in public hospitals, but in private clinics, everything is focused on the client. You can choose between single or double rooms. There’s a price difference, but it’s not significant compared to the overall cost. So, we chose a single room. In a single room, you have a modern hospital bed, a small couch for visitors, a private bathroom, a wardrobe, and a TV. The meals are quite decent — I would gladly eat like that myself. The TV has several channels that show the rooms where the newborns are kept, so you can lie in bed and watch your sleeping baby on the screen.

When you arrive at the hospital, you need to have a set of items with you, as described on the hospital’s website, or they will tell you what’s needed upon arrival. Most of the things are for the baby—diapers, wipes, and a few sets of clothes. For the mother, no special clothes are provided; you just need to bring your own towels and nightgowns, which you’ll wear both while resting and during the delivery. It’s not like in Belarusian public hospitals, where they give you a gown full of holes, held together by three threads to keep it from completely falling apart.

The husband is allowed everywhere. Upon arrival and up until the actual delivery, I accompanied my wife everywhere. Well, except for a few intimate procedures during the preparation, when they asked me to step out for 10 minutes. The first time, they gave me special clothing and a cap to wear over my regular clothes. The second time, they only gave me shoe covers for my flip-flops. Wild people. That’s how I was dressed in the delivery room!

The procedure is fairly standard: they monitor the baby’s heartbeat and the contractions, and at some point, you’re moved to the delivery room where the same monitoring continues until the birth. However, in Cyprus, the midwife comes to check on you frequently. In Minsk, I remember there being long periods where you had to lie in the room without any supervision. Although, maybe I’m nitpicking.

Then comes the birth. In Minsk, I never had the chance to actually be present during the birth itself; I was always with my wife only in the pre-delivery room. But here, I’ve been present for the births both times. You sit with your wife, hold her hand, and the medical staff rushes around, doing their work. Okay, they don’t “rush,” but they’re focused on getting things done.

The pediatrician enters almost at the very last moment, just when the baby is about to be born or has already arrived. The pediatrician immediately examines the baby from head to toe, measures them, and then lets the mother hold the baby briefly before taking the newborn away for washing and dressing.

Unlike in Belarus, they don’t tell you the Apgar score (although it is recorded in the medical record later). They just say that everything is fine. You even find out the baby’s weight and size later, when you look at the paper attached to the incubator. As expected, they put a blue card with the mother’s name and the baby’s measurements on the incubator for boys, and a pink one for girls.

After stitching up the mother, they take her back to the room on the bed. Meanwhile, the husband can go and watch through the glass as the baby is washed and dressed. This is done in the newborn room, where all the babies are kept afterward. The nurses feed them, change their diapers, and take care of everything there. The nurses can handle it all, but if the mother really wants to, she can go in and do it herself. Relatives, however, can only watch through the glass.

Speaking of relatives — the birth of a child is a family event for Cypriots. They usually come to the hospital in large groups. Of course, only the father is allowed in the delivery room, but up to ten people may be sitting outside. In our hospital, there’s even a small courtyard with tables where the waiting relatives sip coffee. And when the baby is born, everyone gasps and cries, tears flowing freely, just as expected. In Cyprus, men aren’t shy about showing their tears in such situations. Everyone cries. It’s also entirely normal in their culture for men to be openly affectionate, even towards other people’s babies. In stores, not only grandmothers but also tough-looking men and teenage boys will playfully engage with your child. In our culture, people might think something strange, but here, it’s perfectly normal.

After the birth, these same relatives usually arrive with huge bouquets and garlands of balloons. The colors are strictly regulated. These garlands are placed outside the mother’s room, so everyone in the area knows who was born there. I felt a little strange for not bringing anything like that. For us, childbirth is also a family celebration, but it’s more personal and private, without such public displays.

Once the baby is born, representatives from various companies often visit the room and leave small gift sets. The last time we received a “little suitcase” filled with various items: a few diapers, pacifiers, baby wipes, small jars of creams and bath products, and baby bottles. In essence, you get a “starter kit” for free. In quotes, of course, because childbirth itself is far from free. But I’ll talk about prices later.

That pretty much concludes the process. If everything goes well, the mother and baby are discharged after two days. Relatives can visit during these days and watch the newborns through a large glass window, behind which is the newborn room. Usually, up to eight babies are kept in one room. The hospital is small, with only two floors of rooms, and the babies stay on the same floor as their mothers.

Complications

Unfortunately, sometimes there are complications, and the baby may need to be transferred to a specialized children’s hospital. There’s only one such hospital in Cyprus, and it’s a public one — with all that entails. We’ve been to it with both of our children born in Cyprus.

The first time, our baby was discharged, but then developed jaundice and had to be hospitalized for three days. The second time, our daughter was taken to the hospital the very next day, directly from the maternity ward. In the end, everything turned out fine, but I can share this experience too.

Babies are placed separately; they don’t stay with the mother, even if you’d really like that. However, the care they receive is top-notch. No complaints whatsoever. Typically, there are 4-6 babies in one room, and there’s always at least one nurse in the room at all times. During feeding times or other special moments, you may see 3-4 staff members working simultaneously. So there’s more than enough medical staff. There are just as many men as there are women on staff. A young, bodybuilder-type guy lovingly and gently changing a baby’s diaper is a common sight.

Visiting hours at the hospital are twice a day. From 12:00 to 13:00, you can see your baby and talk to the doctor about the child’s condition. From 17:00 to 19:00, you can visit again, see your baby, feed them (if it’s feeding time), and change their diaper. One time there was a scheduled bathing session, and we were informed ahead of time, so my wife came at 8:00 a.m. specifically to bathe our daughter.

Both parents are allowed to visit the baby. Other relatives are not allowed inside, but almost all rooms have a window facing a special corridor where relatives can observe the babies through the glass.

As I mentioned, the babies are well looked after, the equipment is modern, and there’s really nothing to complain about. But there are still some features typical of a public hospital.

First, the overall appearance. You can see the difference compared to a private maternity clinic. No, nothing’s falling apart, but everything is simpler. Still, this “simpler” looks better than our general hospitals back home.

Second, the attitude toward visitors. If your child has just been admitted, you can arrive and find the doctor to talk to. But after that, only during the designated visiting hours. And even during those hours, it’s not guaranteed that the doctor will be available on time. There’s only one hour for consultations, from 12:00 to 13:00. But that doesn’t mean the doctor will be there at 12:00. Parents form an informal queue in front of the office, and they sort out the order themselves. Each day, a different on-duty doctor speaks with parents. But the doctor might be busy. Nobody tells you anything; you just sit and wait for the doctor to arrive. Sometimes pediatricians may walk in, but they aren’t the ones on duty that day, so they won’t tell you anything. The on-duty doctor may show up and say they’ll be with you in a minute, then disappear for 15 minutes to grab a coffee. And no one cares that parents are sitting and waiting. One time, I waited outside the doctor’s office for 50 minutes. The doctor finally arrived with only 10 minutes left before the consultation period ended, but they did see everyone.

This attitude was frustrating, not just for me, but for many of the Cypriot parents as well. Yet, it didn’t seem to bother the doctors much, as they remained pretty unfazed by any questions about it.

Cost and Insurance

Now, let’s talk about prices.

Starting with health insurance. In Cyprus, all medical services are paid for, although you can get a card for free services, but there are many requirements, including a cap on total family income. If both parents earn an average salary, their combined income will usually exceed the limit for free healthcare.

That’s why medical insurance is very common. There are different types with various rules for annual coverage. In our case, the insurance covers childbirth but only up to a certain amount.

A visit to a private gynecologist costs 40 euros (40-50 euros is the standard price for doctors in Cyprus). Tests vary, typically ranging from 50 to 100 euros. These are the costs before the birth. The birth itself is divided into three parts:

• Maternity hospital services: 1200-1600 euros, depending on how the delivery goes, whether an epidural is used, etc.
• Delivery (gynecologist): approximately 1200 euros.
• Delivery (pediatrician): approximately 200 euros.

However, there’s one caveat related to insurance and complications. As long as the baby is in the maternity hospital, everything is considered part of the birth and is covered by the mother’s insurance (up to the coverage limit). After that, the baby must be insured separately. But you can only get insurance for the baby after the pediatrician issues a certificate stating that the baby is healthy. And you can only get this certificate once the baby has been discharged from the hospital.

Here’s where the conflict arises: the baby isn’t insured yet but already needs treatment. The insurance won’t cover the treatment because the baby isn’t insured, and you can’t insure the baby until treatment is over. This leaves everyone in such situations with a hefty bill. These rules apply to everyone (except those eligible for free services, with their own set of limitations as mentioned earlier). From my experience, one day in intensive care at a public hospital can cost around 300 euros per day (for jaundice treatment under a lamp) to 500 euros per day for more complex cases. A very unfortunate situation. But of course, the child’s health is more important.

Child Benefits

I’m not entirely familiar with all the local laws yet, but I found out that I can receive just over 500 euros from the government for the birth of a child. This applies to any couple who has a baby, as long as at least one parent has been paying social security contributions for seven months before the birth. If this condition is met, you are entitled to the payment, regardless of your citizenship. I only found out about this recently and am now preparing the documents. We didn’t receive this benefit for our previous child born in Cyprus because we simply didn’t know about it. There’s a one-year limit to claim the benefit after the child’s birth.

So, if anyone is planning to have a baby in Cyprus, keep this in mind.