What I’ve Learned About Creating Healing Spaces for Women’s Health – From My Wife’s Recovery to Helping New Families

When my wife was recovering from her stroke eight years ago, I started noticing things I’d never paid attention to before. How the quality of light in a room affected her mood. How the sound of water from our little backyard fountain seemed to help with her pain levels. How being able to see the birds at our feeder made difficult days more bearable.

I didn’t know it at the time, but I was learning about something called biophilic design – how our connection to nature affects our health and wellbeing. What really drove this home was when our youngest daughter went through fertility treatments a few years back.

She’d been trying to get pregnant for over two years. The fertility clinic was everything you’d expect from modern medicine – efficient, high-tech, sterile. But walking into that place, you could feel the anxiety in the air. Fluorescent lighting, vinyl floors, artificial everything. My daughter would come home from appointments more stressed than when she left.

That got me reading about how environment affects fertility and pregnancy. Turns out there’s solid research showing that stress interferes with hormone levels, ovulation, even sperm quality. Makes sense when you think about it – our bodies weren’t designed to reproduce in sterile, artificial environments.

I found a study from Japan about “forest bathing” – spending time in natural settings – that showed measurable reductions in stress hormones. Another one from Sweden found that pregnant women with access to green spaces had fewer complications and healthier babies. This wasn’t new-age thinking; this was documented medical research.

Around this time, our church was renovating their nursery, and they asked for my help. I suggested we position the rocking chairs near the windows overlooking the fellowship garden. Added some plants that were safe for kids. Used natural wood instead of plastic wherever we could. Even convinced them to install a small water feature – one of those tabletop fountains.

The difference was remarkable. Parents started commenting on how peaceful the space felt. Babies seemed to settle easier during Sunday services. The nursery volunteers said their job became less stressful.

This experience made me think about our own home differently. When my wife was struggling with depression after her stroke, the modifications that helped most weren’t just about mobility – they were about connection to nature. The enlarged windows that brought in more natural light. The raised garden beds where she could tend plants from her wheelchair. The greenhouse where she could putter around even in Michigan winters.

I started documenting what I’d learned, partly for other folks dealing with aging and health issues, but also because I was seeing how these principles applied to young families too. Our neighbor’s daughter had terrible morning sickness during her first pregnancy. Couldn’t keep anything down, barely slept, anxious all the time.

Her mother asked if I had any ideas for making her bedroom more comfortable. Simple changes – moved the bed to face the window with a view of their maple tree, added some air-purifying plants my wife recommended, helped install a small fountain for gentle background sound. Nothing expensive or complicated.

Within a couple weeks, she was sleeping better. Still had morning sickness, but the anxiety seemed to ease up. Her mother swears it made a difference in how she felt about the pregnancy.

I’ve been reading about birth environments too. There’s fascinating research on how the setting affects labor. Stress hormones actually interfere with oxytocin – the hormone that drives contractions. So sterile, clinical environments might actually work against the natural process of birth.

Some birth centers are designing spaces with natural light, views of gardens, water features, even using specific sound frequencies that promote calm. Their outcomes show shorter labors, less need for interventions, better experiences for mothers. Makes perfect biological sense.

After the baby comes, the environment continues to matter. Newborns are incredibly sensitive to their surroundings – the quality of light, patterns they see, sounds they hear. I helped our daughter set up a nursery corner in her bedroom with a chair positioned to look out at the backyard oak tree. We added some plants for air quality and a small fountain for gentle sound.

She spent hours there nursing and just watching the tree through the seasons. Said it became her sanctuary during those overwhelming early weeks. The baby seemed to love the shifting light patterns from the leaves.

There’s research from Denmark showing that new mothers with views of green spaces have lower rates of postpartum depression. A program in Finland where they prescribed nature walks for new moms showed real improvements in mood and anxiety levels.

My own mother told me something similar. After my younger brother was born in the middle of a harsh winter, she struggled with what was probably postpartum depression. My father had just finished adding a sunroom to our house – nothing fancy, just windows on three sides with space for her houseplants.

She’d sit there for hours each day, tending her plants, watching birds at the feeder. She always credited that room with helping her through that difficult time. At the time, we just thought she liked being with her plants. Now I understand there was real therapeutic value in that daily connection to nature.

The practical applications aren’t complicated or expensive. For families expecting a baby, it might mean positioning a comfortable chair near a window with a green view. Adding plants that improve air quality. Opening windows for fresh air when weather permits. Using natural materials where possible – wood, cotton, wool instead of synthetics.

Even in apartments or tight budgets, small changes can help. A single plant on a windowsill. Opening blinds to let in natural light. A small fountain for gentle sound. These aren’t luxury items – they’re basic elements that support how our bodies are designed to function.

I’ve shared these ideas with other families in our community. Young couples trying to get pregnant. Expectant mothers looking to create nurturing spaces. New parents overwhelmed by the transition. The feedback has been consistently positive – not miraculous cures, but genuine improvements in comfort, mood, and overall wellbeing.

What strikes me is how we’ve designed nature out of spaces related to health and healing, then wonder why people feel stressed and disconnected. Fertility clinics that feel like laboratories. Hospital rooms with no natural light. Nurseries filled with plastic and artificial everything.

Our bodies evolved in natural settings. Our reproductive systems, our sleep cycles, our stress responses – all of it developed in connection with natural light, fresh air, growing things, flowing water. When we create environments that support these biological needs, we see improvements in outcomes.

I’m not suggesting everyone needs to give birth in a forest. But thoughtful integration of natural elements into medical settings and homes can make a real difference. Better lighting that follows natural cycles. Views of greenery, even if it’s just a single tree outside a window. Materials that feel natural to the touch. Sounds that promote calm rather than increase stress.

For older folks like my wife and me, these modifications have been crucial for maintaining independence and quality of life as we age. For young families, they offer support during some of life’s most challenging and important transitions – trying to conceive, pregnancy, birth, early parenting.

The evidence keeps building that our environments profoundly affect our health. Creating spaces that acknowledge our connection to the natural world isn’t about luxury or aesthetics – it’s about supporting our fundamental biology as living creatures who developed in natural settings.

My daughter finally got pregnant after making changes to reduce stress in her daily environment. Can’t prove it was the environmental modifications, but she’s convinced they helped. Her daughter is now three, and their home is filled with plants, natural light, and connections to the outdoors.

When I watch that little girl playing in their garden, tending her own small patch of flowers, I see the continuation of something important – the understanding that we thrive when we maintain our connection to the living world around us.