So. It’s done. The baby is here and I am overwhelmed, happy, anxious and feeling every emotion on the spectrum. Everything has changed, the world has been turned upside down. Our flat feels like a proper home. A home where a child lives. I have created a family and yet feel like someone who is too young for the responsibility. When I’m pushing the pram down the road, back in my pre-pregnancy clothes, sunglasses on, I wonder if this is all a dream that is going to end soon and the baby in front of me is just an accessory that I have to return after 28 days.
But along with the birth of my little person last month, I found myself in not only a new, what-colour-was-his-poo environment, but another, hostile environment (yes, Theresa - if you leave any legacy it’s that).
The day after I gave birth we were about to be discharged from the hospital and while waiting on the ward for the final papers, a woman from the NHS (Britain’s national health service, state-run) overseas team entered our little cubicle.
What I experienced then was surreal and took me a few seconds to grasp the seriousness of it.
I had given birth 24 hours ago, my hormones were going wild, I was bleeding. I was vulnerable and felt alienated by the place I call home. Again. I decided to tweet the encounter, people needed to see what’s happening. I needed an outlet and my sleep-deprived partner was not enough. This is the thread:
About to be discharged from hospital after giving birth, in the middle of a massive pee, poo and vomit explosion (my son, not me) and NHS staff comes in and says that because I’ve got one of the “newer” NHS numbers, I need to be investigated if I am entitled to 1/4— Laura Varriale (@LrVrrl) 8. März 2019
free NHS care. I joke and ask, if I had get my passport, and she said “yeah if you don’t have it, you can also email it with your proof of address within 7 days.” I then had to answer questions about how long I’ve been in the UK for, how often I’ve been abroad last year. 2/4— Laura Varriale (@LrVrrl) 8. März 2019
I then had to sign a form that said that this “assessment” was valid for 12 months and have to agree that every info will be sent to the Home Office. I’m using (and happily paying in taxes) NHS care since 2014. 3/4— Laura Varriale (@LrVrrl) 8. März 2019
I can just about bite my tongue and not ask whether my son will have to do the same as he clearly will have a “newer” NHS number too. 4/4— Laura Varriale (@LrVrrl) 8. März 2019
Also, what I luckily did not see until I was home, I received this nice piece of paper called ‘documentary evidence required’ with a list of costs when you’re receiving care. pic.twitter.com/zMgeT7HVbl— Laura Varriale (@LrVrrl) 12. März 2019
I was so appalled by the approach and the fact that all of this was happening to me while I was sitting on my hospital bed, my son in my arm and emotional from the tremendous experience I just went through.
The woman was not evil, rather robotic (hello, Maybot!) and I guess that’s how you have to be when you do this kind of work where - let’s be honest - you have to dehumanise the person in front of you to cope with that job.
As soon as she disappeared behind the blue curtains, having ticked all the boxes on her forms, I cried.
It wasn’t the first time I had had to sign forms that will be shared with the Home Office when receiving NHS care (which makes the hospital check even more redundant than it already was as everything is on file already). But this was the most detailed one - valid for 12 months.
And by the way - the UK has still not left the European Union.
My midwife was appalled, too, when I told her about this the next day and said she did not know this procedure had been introduced.
The experience makes me anxious for what more is to come. I was fine this time, but it’s clear life won’t become easier for migrants in the UK. I wonder how this will affect me and consequently the life of my child.
I’ve just given you a potential tax payer, Britain. Show me some love, I’m holding your future in my arms.
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