One of the many things you don’t realise until you have a newborn is just how much people congratulate you simply for leaving the house. “Well done for getting out and about,” they say, with the cheerful camaraderie of People Who Know. Going outside may sound like a low benchmark, but during those early weeks summoning the energy to put on clothes, pack a bag, and then using that narrow window between sleeping, feeding, pooing and screaming to cross the threshold into the world can feel like the grand sum total of all human endeavour. Screw the frescoes of the Scrovegni chapel: Mama made it to Budgens.

Which explains my reaction when I read that new guidelines published in the British Journal of Sports Medicine say that new mothers should be strongly encouraged to do at least two hours of moderate to vigorous exercise a week, in addition to “daily pelvic floor muscle training”, and further that they should develop a “healthy sleep hygiene routine”, avoid screen time and “maintain a dark, cool, quiet environment before bed”.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

Where to start with this? Maybe with the phrase “strongly encouraged”, as though new mothers don’t get enough of that. In the absence of proper, structural support, strong encouragement is all society has. Take an anonymous call I received a few days after we were discharged from the hospital, still reeling from a complicated birth (when people ask what kind it was, I say: “I think maybe … all of them?”) I picked up the phone. “Hello?” I said, tentatively. I was in the bathroom at the time, observing the carnage of my life and body with the sort of stoned detachment that comes with zero sleep and opioid withdrawal. “HELLO. ARE YOU EXERCISING YOUR PELVIC FLOOR?” a woman bellowed down the line. “Who is this?” I said. “I AM CALLING FROM THE WHITTINGTON HOSPITAL. YOU NEED TO MAKE SURE YOU ARE DOING YOUR KEGELS. OK, BYE.”

In France, pelvic floor rehabilitation is a cornerstone of postnatal care, with the government providing physio sessions. Here, a midwife with a list of numbers and a robust phone manner yells at you about your ruined vagina. I still think fondly of her. But I think if she had also told me to do two hours of exercise and develop a healthy sleep routine as well, I’d have “strongly encouraged” her to do something else with her phone.

Look, I am not saying the advice isn’t important. As the professionals who have written this paper say, the postpartum period puts women at risk of all kinds of health problems, and is “a unique and critical window of opportunity to identify people at high risk for future chronic disease and to implement early interventions to improve lifelong health”. Of course it’s beneficial to become mobile as soon as possible after the birth, and to get as much sleep as you are physically able. New mothers know this. But they also know that achieving basic tasks, often in the absence of much support, can feel nigh-on impossible. Had I tried to develop their description of a healthy bedtime routine, I’d have basically been consigned to a dark room while my son did cluster feeding (and cluster pooing) for five hours. Is it any wonder I opted for binge-eating flapjacks in front of back-to-back Stanley Tucci: Searching for Italy?

When postpartum, in order to carve out time for exercise and sleep, you need a support system around you. You need visits from health professionals, an engaged partner who doesn’t go back to work after a mere two weeks, and your family around you (the paper acknowledges this, too). I was lucky enough to have this, and I still found it hard to find a moment for myself, so I can only imagine how hard it must be if you’re less supported. I expect these guidelines will just become another thing that many new mothers feel they are failing at, and the NCT agrees, saying that parents may find the pressure “overwhelming”.

I’ve just been reading Becky Barnicoat’s brilliant and hilarious Cry When the Baby Cries, a graphic memoir which vividly evokes those feverish, feral, fluid-soaked months after giving birth (she is an advocate, by the way, of achieving absolutely nothing as a survival tactic). There’s a part in the book where she goes for her postpartum doctor visit, six weeks after an emergency C-section, and he shames her for not doing exercise: “Most women like to get their bodies back as quickly as possible.” The following image, of her pushing the pram home with tears streaming down her face, viscerally captures the impact that a few unkind words can have on you at this time of deep vulnerability.

Too many of us have had moments like these, when someone could have been kind, but wasn’t. When it comes to guidelines for new mums, far less thought seems to be put into the manner of delivery. Sometimes “advice” is delivered so cruelly that it stays with you for years afterwards. There are many things I wish for postpartum women: better healthcare, better support (like in the Netherlands), better paternity leave, often, sadly, better husbands. But most of all, I wish people were a bit nicer to them.

What’s working
My son has been enjoying the new trampoline his dad gave him for his third birthday, especially to a soundtrack of disco music. It confirms my belief that, when parenting feels tricky, a “vibe shift” can work wonders. I was feeling emotional and exhausted yesterday, but watching him bounce, grinning, to Le Freak, somehow made everything feel OK again.

What’s not
Several good friends are dealing with toddlers who run off, sometimes towards traffic. Reins are largely frowned upon by this generation of parents (one friend even received judgmental comments for using them in the vicinity of actual lions while at a safari park), but it got me thinking how they did perform quite an important safety function. Is it time to rehabilitate them, or at least be a bit more understanding of one another?