At 12 weeks postpartum, I landed in the hospital again with a sprained ankle that occurred when I stopped paying attention to my body’s new limits. My mom returned, as my husband was back at work, and I couldn’t care for my baby on crutches. My bosses — all women — were sympathetic, kind, and unbelievably supportive. As a federal employee, I’m also part of the 60% of the American workforce with access to the 12 weeks of unpaid leave afforded by the Family and Medical Leave Act (FMLA).

So yes, I’m lucky. Here are just some of the ways my lucky streak will be conferred on my son:

Because I was home with him, I noticed early there was something wrong with his eye. I was able to bring him to a doctor in time to save him from blindness and surgery. Children are much more likely to receive well-baby visits and vaccinations when their mothers have paid leave.

When my son refused for weeks to breast-feed, I had the resources to see a lactation consultant and the time to try and try and try again. Seven weeks in, I finally stopped emitting blood instead of breast milk, and he finally understood what to do. The WHO and the American Academy of Pediatrics both recommend exclusive breastfeeding until the baby is 6 months old, citing breast milk’s protective effects against a wide variety of diseases, allergies, and infections. Women with paid leave breast-feed their babies twice as long as women not able to take paid leave.

Because my husband had six weeks of paid leave, he took me to the endless doctors’ appointments, changed our baby’s first diapers, and was home to see our son’s first smile. Fathers who take paternity leave are more involved with their children and with child care months later.

Because I’ve been home to hold my son and rock him and place him against my skin, my baby has cried less and slept more, making me a less anxious, better rested mom. It also meant I was more likely to return to the workforce, benefiting not only my own family, but also the American economy.

And when I did return to the office, my son was strong enough to hold up his own head, unlike the babies of other mothers forced to return before they were ready — with fatal, tragic consequences. Paid parental leave can reduce infant mortality by up to 10%.

My little family is certainly lucky.

Although I’m not one of the 13% of American workers with paid family leave, I stockpiled and saved enough sick days and vacation time over the past five years so I could recuperate from a serious illness and care for my son in his first weeks of life without having to choose between diapers or rent, job or no job. I am filled with deep, overwhelming gratitude each morning I wake up feeling a bit stronger, every time I can pick up my son to soothe his crying, every time he successfully nurses, and every time he tracks me across a room using both of his eyes.

And yet, in 2016, in the world’s only superpower, to have to rely on luck and privilege for the time my son and I both needed for our health is incomprehensible. The United States is the only developed country that does not have some form of paid family leave — in fact, we are one of just three countries in the entire world without it, joining Papua New Guinea and Suriname.

For every new American mom and dad, for every single baby born or adopted in this country, this is not just unlucky. It’s indefensible, and it has to change.