If your baby is healthy, they only need to have blood taken once in the first week — around day 5. This is known as the HeelPrik. It is optional; you can choose not to have it done. Although saying no is not recommended, your choice will always be respected.
The HeelPrik checks for 27 genetic disorders that can make your baby very sick if they are not found and treated in time.
Your midwife will also ask if you want your baby to be tested for sickle cell disease. She will explain that if your baby is a carrier, they won’t be sick themselves, but if they later have a child with someone who is also a carrier, their children could be ill. You can find more information about sickle cell disease on the official website. Hielprik voor de baby in een beeldverhaal (met vertalingen)
Any extra blood taken maybe used anonymously to help improve the HeelPrik in the future, but only if you give permission. The midwife should explain all of this, but sometimes things get lost in translation or said very quickly. When you understand your options beforehand, you can make a decision together as a couple — without feeling put on the spot.
Jaundice (geelzucht)
If your baby is looking yellow, this can be normal — newborns often become a little more yellow on day 3 or 4. But it can also be a sign of jaundice. Your kraamverzorgende is trained to watch for the signs, and if she is unsure, she will ask the midwife to check.
If you notice that your baby becomes more yellow in the evening, drinks less, or becomes less reactive, you should call your midwife right away and not wait until morning. A blood-test may be needed.
Different regions work in different ways. Some midwives have a small scanning machine, like a thermometer on the forehead, it measures the bilirubin levels. If the number is low enough, no blood check is needed. Not all midwives have this machine, so sometimes blood must be taken by the local lab. Outside office hours, the midwife can take the blood herself, and you will bring it to the hospital. The results come back quickly, and the midwife will explain if any action is needed.
If your baby has a difficult start, they may need more frequent blood tests than a healthy newborn.
Making blood tests less stressful
Watching your baby have blood taken can be distressing for parents. It can also be stressful for babies — and repeated stress can even contribute to fear of needles later in childhood. So what can you do to make the experience as calm as possible for both of you?
Think about this: if you were asleep and someone suddenly stuck a needle in your heel, how would you react? Babies are the same. That’s why I never take bloods from a sleeping baby.
Wake them gently. Give them a cuddle. Tell them, in your own words, that they will get a little cut in their foot and that they can tell you how it felt. Crying is their way of talking — so if they cry, respond, reassure them, and let them know it will be over soon. And don’t forget to breathe yourself! Your baby feels your stress; when you stay calm, they feel safe.
If you’re breastfeeding, you can offer the breast for comfort — the sweetness helps reduce pain. But not at the exact moment of the prick. Babies can jump and choke. Once the prick is done, you can put them back on the breast.
If your baby cannot be in your arms, you can still make the experience as gentle as possible. Talk to them, tell them what’s happening, and speak for them. Let them know you’re there.
Blood tests are a small part of the first days with your baby, but they can feel like big moments. When you understand what’s happening and how to support your baby, everything becomes a little softer and less overwhelming. Your presence, your voice, and your calm make all the difference.
You don’t have to be perfect — just connected. And together, you and your baby can get through these moments with confidence. If you want to chat about this subject, feel free to reach out. I love to hear your stories.
“Do you have children?”
It sounds so simple, doesn’t it?
You’re happily married, nearing thirty… people just assume it’s the natural next step. A harmless question at a dinner party, a work event, a family gathering.
I’ve asked it myself so many times—never once imagining the story that might hide behind a quiet “No, I don’t.”
You see, I love everything about babies, pregnancy, and new life. It’s always been a part of me. I worked for years in maternity care, and even started my own business—TinyExpat.nl—to help others through one of life’s most beautiful (and vulnerable) chapters. But even with all that knowledge, even with all that love, my own journey to motherhood was far from easy.
Sometimes, what seems so simple for one person… is a mountain for someone else.
That innocent question—“Do you have kids?”—can feel like a knife to the heart when you’re secretly longing, waiting, hoping.
But we don’t often talk about that, do we?
We carry the weight of grief, shame, disappointment, and longing silently, because those feelings don’t quite fit into small talk or a casual chat with a new colleague.
Yes, I have children now—two incredible boys, full of life and laughter, aged 7 and 9.
But they didn’t arrive easily. And the road to them changed me forever.
My first pregnancy ended after six weeks.
We had already been trying for over a year. I had lost count of the number of ovulation tests, pregnancy tests, late-night tears, and quiet moments of despair.
My life became a cycle of hope and heartbreak. Hospital visits. Blood tests. Ultrasounds.
And then a doctor who gently said, “It could take time… and I can’t promise anything. But we’ll try.”
And somehow, I got pregnant again.
And somehow, it stayed.
But my third pregnancy? It was ectopic.
Suddenly, I was left with only one fallopian tube—and a thousand fears.
Did I have the strength to try again?
Could I face the unknown one more time?
With the support of specialists, and each other, we found the courage to keep going. And eventually, our family was complete.
We’re now that “perfect picture” from the outside.
But our story? It’s woven with pain, patience, and perseverance.
And not everyone gets their happy ending.
One of my dearest friends was walking her own path of silent heartbreak.
While my belly grew, so did the distance between us.
She couldn’t bear the sight of what she was still waiting for.
And I couldn’t stop being what I was becoming: a mother.
We drifted apart.
That loss still aches, even today.
Did you know the Netherlands is the only country in the world that collects the hCG hormone from urine to help women undergoing fertility treatments?
If I had known back then that I could’ve donated my urine to help someone like her—to maybe help her become a mother too—I would’ve done it without a second thought.
Not everyone can donate.
But maybe you can.
And if you could… who would you help?
