Motherhood changes how you see the world.
Before I had kids, I barely noticed where the baby changing rooms were. Now, I can tell you exactly which supermarkets have one that’s actually clean, which cafés have one tucked behind a stack of highchairs, and which “family-friendly” venues still haven’t got the memo.
“We don’t need perfection. We just need consideration.”
But over time, I realised it’s not (always) really about the facilities — it’s about how it feels to be there. 
Because baby changing rooms are a tiny window into how society values mothers. And sometimes, standing there in a cold, badly lit cubicle with a broken bin pedal, ), a overflowing stinking nappy bin and no space to turn around, it feels like we’re not valued much at all.
There’s a certain vulnerability in those spaces. You’re juggling a wriggling baby, a bag the size of a small suitcase, and a wave of smells that could probably be categorised as a biohazard. You’re tired, you’re trying your best, and what you need — more than anything — is a bit of dignity.
And yet, so often, the message feels like: “You’ll do.”
Here’s a fold-down table that might collapse if you breathe too hard. Here’s some harsh lighting that could double as an interrogation room. Here’s no bin within arm’s reach, and no chair to sit on if you need to feed your baby after changing them. And a toilet for you also, not here!
There’s a kind of loneliness in it — being tucked away, hidden out of sight, like the messy, human part of parenting doesn’t belong in the same world as everyone else’s coffee breaks and shopping trips.
And yes, some places do get it right.
When you walk into a baby changing space that’s been thought about — clean, warm, with a chair, a bin, a shelf for your bag — you feel it instantly.
It’s like someone said, “We see you. You matter too.”
Because it’s never just about a surface or a nappy bin. It’s about respect. About giving parents a space that says, you belong here, even when it’s messy.
And if you’ve ever stood in one of those nicer changing rooms, you’ll know how quickly gratitude rushes in — which is kind of heartbreaking, when you think about it. That something so basic feels like luxury.
When I thought about reviewing baby changing spaces, I thought i would be doing it to be helpful — to tell other parents where the good ones were. But the more I visited, the more I realised it’s not really about stars or ratings. It’s about the feeling of being seen. When somewhere offers them but they are dirty, unusable, unthoughtful and / or not really fit for purpose; then they don’t really have a facility.
When you’re in the thick of motherhood — tired, hormonal, touched-out, trying to keep it together — you spend a lot of your life in the margins. The changing rooms, the feeding corners, the car park dashes. The spaces that don’t make it onto the glossy brochures but carry so much of the weight.
And I think that’s why I’ll be writing about them — not because it’s glamorous, but because it matters.
Because how we design for parents says something about how we value care itself.
So yes, I’ll share the real reviews (with your help across the country for submitting reviews perhaps!) — the good, the bad, the “please send help”. But I’ll also keep talking about what those spaces mean.
Because somewhere between the cracked tiles and the occasional lovely surprise of a well-lit mirror and a gentle chair and a toilet, there’s a message worth repeating:
We don’t need perfection. We just need consideration.
See us. Think of us. Make space for us.
Because when you do, the world feels a little less invisible.
