The idea of writing about pregnancy and childbirth in both Belarus and Cyprus came to me after a discussion on Facebook. I’ll try to explain the differences in approach, and everyone can draw their own conclusions.
I’ve had six pregnancies. I managed the first three and gave birth in Belarus. During my fourth pregnancy, we moved to Cyprus. Later, I went to Belarus for a “vacation,” where, at seven months, I gave birth to a stillborn baby. My fifth and sixth pregnancies were managed and delivered in Cyprus.
In Cyprus, healthcare is free for a narrow segment of the population. For everyone else, insurance is necessary. A new system is currently being introduced, but I’ll explain how things were back then.
My insurance covered pregnancy care and childbirth up to €3,000. If you exceed that limit, you pay out of pocket. It’s quite easy to go over budget if anything goes wrong. My impression is that €3,000 is for a normal pregnancy and natural birth. For example, during my fourth pregnancy, I needed a cervical stitch, and the procedure cost €1,400.
Pregnancy care in Cyprus is handled very differently. Many doctors here have private practices. The gynecologist who monitors the pregnancy can also deliver the baby, as was the case for me.
The first thing that stands out is the fundamentally different approach to pregnancy care. And the explanation is simple: what’s cheap is done often, what’s expensive is done rarely and only when necessary. Ultrasounds are cheap. The machine is in the doctor’s office, and they check the baby at every visit. Lab tests are expensive. You’ll only get a referral if something is wrong or at the beginning of the pregnancy. If there’s a specific indication, such as my negative Rh factor, I was regularly tested for titers. Often, the doctor draws blood themselves. There’s no endless running to the lab like in Minsk, no waiting in long lines.
It seems that hospitalization here is reserved for extreme cases. There’s no “hospitalization” during early pregnancy for bleeding or other issues. Instead, you’re given suppositories, tablets, and told to come back for your next appointment. If anything happens—call. Yes, call. Hospitals often don’t have specialists on-site; they are called in when needed. Once, we went in with complications, and it wasn’t very late. They told us they could either call the on-duty gynecologist or we could contact the doctor who handled the pregnancy and go to him directly.
Procedures are also streamlined: I came in at 7 a.m. on the scheduled day, had tests done, they performed the cervical stitch under full anesthesia at 9 a.m., and by noon, I was sent home with a prescription for antibiotics. Unfortunately, in my case, the antibiotics didn’t match the pathogen, which may have led to an intrauterine infection. The day of the procedure, all tests were normal, but two weeks later, the results were terrible, and my baby died inside me.
In other aspects, though, it’s more convenient—no constant exams, no carrying samples in jars every couple of weeks, and no need to visit countless doctors to complete the maternity records. I suspect that managing high-risk pregnancies in Cyprus is more complicated and certainly more expensive than in Belarus.
Now, about the childbirth itself. In Cyprus, the rate of C-sections is very high—56%. If I’m not mistaken, it’s the second-highest in the world. However, my particular doctor prefers natural births. Here’s where the twist comes in. Whether this is good or bad, part of the decision-making is left to the patient. The doctor only provides the information. For example, my youngest didn’t turn head-down for a long time. The doctor said, “You choose: C-section or natural birth.” I had already experienced giving birth to a breech baby, and another of my children had been in the local neonatal intensive care unit, which I knew was the only one on the island. Because of that, I seriously considered a C-section. But had I not had that experience, I might have opted for a natural birth. In the end, my daughter turned on her own, and the decision was made for me.
Paid childbirth in Cyprus surpasses paid childbirth in Minsk. Of course, now the 5th Minsk Maternity Hospital has opened a VIP section, so it might be similar or even better there. But when I gave birth in Belarus, paid childbirth mostly meant paying for a private room and the option for the husband to be present. In Cyprus:
- The same gynecologist who monitored your pregnancy delivers the baby.
- You can choose to have a C-section if you want.
- No mandatory tests before birth (for syphilis, HIV, swabs).
- The husband can be present at the birth by default, and he doesn’t need any medical certificates.
- You can request an epidural.
My husband was present for both births, and this is quite normal here. In Cyprus, husbands are even allowed to be by their wives’ side during C-sections. And outside the delivery room, there are often close friends and a lot of family members, even in the middle of the night. The maternity hospital even has a designated space for this—a small courtyard or an area near the delivery room. They sit and wait, and a courier brings them coffee.
I gave birth in Cyprus under two different scenarios. My son was quite large, which worried the doctor. Although, by Belarusian medical standards, a baby weighing 3,810 grams isn’t considered large. Here, however, everyone was gasping, calling him Gulliver. As a result, the doctor decided to induce labor, set a date, and stimulated the process with oxytocin. To be fair, compared to the local babies, my son did look quite big. I later spoke with the doctor, and he said that babies here are usually around 2,800 to 3,000 grams.
My second labor started on its own, and this time I asked for an epidural for the first time. However, I have a spinal curvature, which caused some initial difficulties with inserting the catheter. After some time, it seemed to have shifted, and the pain came back as if I hadn’t had the epidural at all, even though I felt great relief after the first dose. The labor wasn’t going smoothly, so both the midwife and anesthesiologist stayed by my side the entire time—two wonderful women who supported and encouraged me throughout.
The pediatrician is invited separately for the birth. They are “your” pediatrician, not one from the hospital. And all of this comes with separate bills: pediatrician, doctor, hospital, procedures…
In the private hospital where I gave birth, there are both two-bed and single-bed rooms. You can choose which one you want (the prices differ). You can have the baby stay in the room with you or leave them in the nursery. In my hospital, the nursery had a large glass window, so relatives and friends could come and look through the window. The mother can enter at any time, or watch the baby on a screen in her room via camera. You can request to be called for feedings, diaper changes, and so on. You can also choose how you want to feed the baby. If there are no complications, the usual hospital stay is about two days.
Private maternity hospitals in Cyprus are small. So, if something goes wrong, either the mother or the baby is transferred to larger public hospitals. That’s what happened with my daughter. Her lungs didn’t fully expand, and a neonatal intensive care unit (NICU) ambulance came and took her away. The doctors informed us that either I or other close relatives could come to the NICU in about two hours, and the doctor would update us on her condition. That’s exactly what we did. We went, got all the information, and then I returned to the maternity hospital.
The NICU deserves a story of its own. There is only one specialized children’s hospital on the island, located in Nicosia. If a child (of any age) has serious health issues, they are brought there. They are transported by ambulance or helicopter, depending on the condition. In the neonatal intensive care unit, there is no rooming-in with the baby—there are no options for that. The NICU consists of seven rooms. Along the walls are incubators or bassinets. The rooms are numbered: Rooms 1 and 2 are for the most critical cases, with incubators and many babies on ventilators, often very premature or in serious condition. Rooms 3-5 are for those who are more stable. Rooms 6-7 are for babies preparing for discharge, where they are moved into bassinets. As the child’s condition improves, they are moved from room to room.
The hospital has a lot of medical staff. From what I observed, there are about three staff members per room, which houses a maximum of six babies. I also noticed there were more male nurses than female ones. The staff gives a lot of attention to the babies beyond medical procedures.
Parents can visit twice a day for one hour. In the morning visit, you can also speak with the doctor. After their rounds, the doctor meets with all the parents in turn. Parents can enter the room with their baby, feed them, hold them (if allowed), or simply touch and stroke them, which is encouraged. When I first arrived, the staff immediately came up to me, showed me how to open the incubator, and told me it would be very helpful if I stroked my daughter. Babies are fed either with pumped breast milk brought by the parents or with formula provided by the hospital.
Other relatives can also visit the baby. Although they cannot enter the rooms, there is a corridor with large windows behind the NICU rooms where they can see the babies.
Staying in the NICU is very expensive. There’s a bureaucratic issue where the mother’s insurance does not cover the baby, and the baby can only get insurance once the pediatrician certifies that the baby has been discharged and is healthy.
For a perspective on childbirth from my husband’s point of view, you can read his post: Giving Birth in Cyprus (Through the Husband’s Eyes)
