Navigating the search for child care for a young child often feels like bracing for impact. Across the United States, the financial burden of child care has reached unprecedented levels, surging at more than double the overall inflation rate. Shockingly, in every single state, the average cost of caring for two children now surpasses the cost of housing. For infant care, the necessity we’re facing, the prices escalate even further, reflecting the increased attention and staffing demands for the youngest children. Families needing more than 20 hours of care each month are, on average, paying a staggering $1,100 per child.
Our family’s search for the ideal care provider has been ongoing for years, beginning in the early stages of pregnancy. We’ve tapped into our networks, consulting neighbors and friends about their child care experiences. Countless online searches have ensued, jotting down names of centers spotted while driving to research reviews later, and diligently collecting recommendations from parents met at local spots like the library or splash pad, hoping to find availability.
While expecting “sticker shock” due to the high cost of child care is almost a given, what truly blindsided us was the virtual obstacle course required just to uncover basic pricing information from potential providers. This lack of transparency feels less like navigating a marketplace and more like participating in a frustrating guessing game.
In our Southern Utah locale, a search on Winnie, a popular free database for parents seeking child care, reveals only four providers in our immediate area. This platform allows providers to create and manage pages detailing their services at no cost, with paid upgrades available for enhanced features and search visibility. Yet, strikingly, not a single provider in our town lists their prices on their Winnie page. Expanding the search to St. George, a larger neighboring city, brings up 26 providers, but a mere two disclose their rates. One provider’s page lists a broad price range of $450-$750 monthly, offering at least a vague cost estimate. However, the overwhelming majority of providers sidestep price disclosure entirely, opting instead for the ubiquitous message: “Contact this provider to inquire about prices and availability.” Our attempts to reach out via email and voicemail often go unanswered, leaving us in the dark. Making informed decisions becomes an uphill battle when fundamental information is withheld.
The frustration extends beyond just the missing numbers. The entire process feels dehumanizing, disregarding the emotional weight and vulnerability inherent in entrusting someone with the care and education of our child. It feels like being forced into a shell game where the stakes are incredibly high, and the rules are deliberately obscured. This sentiment echoes the experience of Haley Swenson, a parent navigating the same opaque system.
Until you’re immersed in the child care search, it’s difficult to fully grasp the exasperation of not readily finding price information for what will be a significant household expense and a pivotal decision for your family’s well-being. To understand the peculiarity of this situation, consider Treasury Secretary Janet Yellen’s 2021 assertion that child care is a “broken market”. Imagine if the pricing practices common in child care were applied to another essential sector, like purchasing a vehicle.
Envision yourself browsing a car dealership in search of your family’s next car. Reliable transportation is crucial for commuting to work, earning income, and maintaining your family’s livelihood. You need a car. You identify a few models that seem to fit your family’s needs and preferences in terms of size and style. However, instead of a price sticker on the windshield, you encounter the phrase: “Inquire for pricing.” You visit the automaker’s website, finding extensive marketing materials detailing the features and benefits of your chosen models. They appear perfect. But can you afford them? The answer remains elusive. Finally, you contact the dealership. Days later, a salesperson responds, inviting you for a tour and test drive to discuss pricing. After investing significant time and effort to visit the dealership, you finally learn the price, only to discover the car is beyond your budget. This cumbersome and often disappointing process mirrors the reality for countless families seeking child care in the United States, where public funding is limited.
One of the core issues within the private child care market is the power imbalance. Providers, particularly large chains with substantial financial backing, wield significantly more leverage than the families they serve. The demand for quality early care and education dramatically outstrips the available supply, creating fierce competition for coveted spots. For many families, child care is not a luxury but a necessity, essential for workforce participation. The scarcity of reliable, high-quality child care compels many families to accept inflated costs. However, this system creates stark disparities, widening the gap between higher-income families who can access paid child care and lower-income families who are increasingly priced out. A recent Federal Reserve survey revealed that “among parents with younger children, those with higher income were about twice as likely as those with lower or middle income to use 20 or more hours of paid child care per week.” The lack of price transparency is a symptom of a larger systemic problem within a profit-driven child care system, one that often overlooks the needs of both parents and caregivers.
Sara Mauskopf, CEO of Winnie, notes the reluctance of many providers to publicly list their prices, despite encouragement to update their platform profiles. The underlying fear, she explains, is that the initial “sticker shock” of seeing the price will deter parents from considering their program. The prevailing theory is that if providers can get parents to visit their center and “fall in love” with the environment, they’ll be more inclined to enroll, even if the cost is high.
However, Mauskopf argues this is a flawed assumption. “When it comes to child care,” she states, “you know what you can afford, and you can’t really stretch much beyond your range. If some place costs twice as much as your range, there’s not really anything you can do to afford it. So, I think that is just the wrong philosophy.”
In fact, Winnie’s internal data suggests the opposite. Providers who list their prices on their Winnie pages experience enrollment rates 33 percent higher than those who don’t. This likely stems from parents being more inclined to pursue programs they know are within their budget. Mauskopf also points out that this opaque pricing model primarily benefits large providers with dedicated staff for tours and price inquiries.
KinderCare, the largest child care provider in the US, exemplifies this. Their website is visually appealing and rich with information on safety, care, and education philosophies. Yet, specific cost figures are conspicuously absent. Even individual location pages, like this one in Salt Lake City, featuring a “Tuition and Openings” button, fail to provide actual tuition details.
Attempts to reach out to KinderCare and Bright Horizons, another major provider, to inquire about their lack of online pricing information went unanswered, highlighting the industry’s general reluctance to discuss this issue openly.
Mauskopf clarifies that not all providers adhere to this pricing strategy. Home-based providers and smaller center-based programs are less likely to view price opacity as a deliberate marketing tactic. Their staff often juggle multiple roles, including teaching and administration. Adding the responsibilities of tour guides and salespeople for families who may not be able to afford their services is an inefficient use of their limited time. For these smaller providers, the challenge of listing prices may stem from the practical burden of website updates or even establishing an online presence. The tight margins prevalent in the child care industry, driven by high labor and infrastructure costs, often preclude hiring robust marketing teams or even dedicated staff to manage communication with child care databases like Winnie regarding pricing and availability.
Dana Levin-Robinson founded UpFront in 2020 to address this and other transparency issues within child care. She explains that private platforms like Winnie face inherent challenges in obtaining and maintaining current pricing data from providers, simply due to the limited time and resources of these programs. She argues that neither individual consumers nor private companies possess the necessary leverage to compel providers to consistently share and update their data.
Government-operated resource and referral agencies, however, possess greater leverage. These networks partner with UpFront to create user-friendly databases with search filters enabling parents to find child care that truly meets their needs. Beyond licensing providers, these agencies connect them with publicly funded resources and support. Levin-Robinson has also found that simplifying the data request process significantly improves provider response rates. Instead of sending lengthy data request forms, they achieve better results by asking targeted, straightforward questions, such as, “You previously listed your infant care rate at $300 per week. Is this still accurate, or has it changed?”
One of UpFront’s clients, the Maryland Family Network, exemplifies the potential of this approach. They have successfully collected pricing data for 4,567 out of 6,256 providers in their network, an impressive 72 percent. Families using their platform can filter searches using numerous criteria, gaining near-instant insight into which providers align with their needs and budget.
Levin-Robinson suggests that these resource and referral agencies’ leverage would be further amplified if price transparency and regular data updates were mandated as part of state licensing and renewal requirements, a policy change state legislatures could consider. Having access to information as comprehensive as Maryland’s at my fingertips would be a significant relief. However, price transparency is just the tip of the iceberg when considering the systemic failures of the child care market in the United States.
Recently, in a moment of desperation, I sent a concise inquiry through a local center’s website. They didn’t list prices online but prompted applicants to agree to a payment schedule before even disclosing the cost. “I’m wondering the price of care for a 15-month-old to see if it’s within my budget. Could you send your cost information?” I wrote. To my surprise, Karen, the center’s director, responded within 24 hours. She directly answered my question—$80 per day or $260 per week—and confirmed an opening for a one-year-old three days a week. If the price was acceptable, she offered a tour and further discussion. The price was indeed steep but within our anticipated range.
A few days later, we toured the center and were immediately captivated. It was everything we had hoped for – the facilities, the dedicated teachers, the directors who knew each child by name, their attentive and respectful communication with us, and the vibrant environment of learning and play evident in every classroom. This positive experience underscored the deeply frustrating nature of the preceding search.
The core issue isn’t solely the lack of price information, but the dehumanizing process that disregards the emotional investment of all involved. Parents are forced to navigate an opaque system concerning the care and education of their most vulnerable children. Meanwhile, caregivers are stretched thin, managing websites, budgets, licensing, facility maintenance, and marketing alongside their primary responsibility of nurturing and educating children.
If our nation genuinely prioritized early childhood care and education, moving beyond a solely private market approach burdened by overextended parents, child care pricing would not only be transparent but also simple and affordable. Quality child care would be readily accessible in every community. Perhaps I could have reclaimed the countless hours spent searching since before my son’s birth. With publicly funded child care, the substantial portion of our income currently allocated to care could be invested in our son’s future. My stress levels could decrease, and my overall well-being could improve if this constant logistical and financial juggling act were alleviated.
Perhaps the dedicated teachers and caregivers, who have devoted their careers to this crucial work, would receive the compensation they deserve for nurturing our communities’ youngest members and supporting the families who entrust them with their children’s lives and development. Perhaps we could collectively shift our focus to prioritizing people above profit in early childhood education.
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Haley Swenson
Haley Swenson is a research and reporting fellow for Better Life Lab, the intersectional gender equality and work program at the non-partisan think tank New America. She is also editor and co-founder of Work Life Everything.
