Every day, too many pregnant women in the United States –– especially women of color –– wake up afraid that bringing life into the world will mean giving up their own. That’s because, today, women in the United States are significantly more likely than our mothers to die in childbirth. Our maternal mortality rate is also by far the highest among industrialized nations.
Giving birth is even more dangerous for Black women, who are three times more likely to die from pregnancy than white women. This disparity, driven by racial biases and unequal health care, has only been made worse by the pandemic.
And even for those who survive childbirth, the fear of a bad outcome colors the whole process, causing huge amounts of stress that can lead to complications, including low birth weights, premature deliveries and postpartum depression.
As a Black woman who has given birth to three babies in the past five years, I have lived with this fear and the countless sleepless, tearful and anxious nights it has brought. It breaks my heart that these fears become realities for many women and their families. After my first daughter was born, I trained to be a doula to provide the emotional and physical support that women need in these profound moments. That is one way to help and how I can do my part.
But this is a systemic problem that requires systemic solutions. We need the government to step in to make maternal health care better, more accessible and more equal. We need politicians and policymakers to commit to long-term investments in maternal health care and to continue pushing forward policies –– including access to abortion –– that help keep women safe.
Thankfully, spurred by decades of advocacy by women and people of color, President Biden recently took an exciting step towards making those investments happen. In his annual budget, he allocated $470 million to maternal health and equity. That’s a big win for women –– but it cannot be a one-time line item. This is a crisis of injustices that requires sustained commitments and investments.
When you have a baby, you must decide which doctors to see, which hospital to go to and what the delivery will look like. For me –– and for women of color across the country –– those choices are overshadowed by one glaring concern: That when the day of birth comes, our experiences and our pain will not be taken seriously, and we will join the hundreds of women per year who pass away from childbirth.
I did everything I could to protect myself and my babies. I researched hospitals, looked up c-section and mortality rates, and quizzed doctors on what interventions they would take in different scenarios. I was able to pull together a support team –– including an incredible Black woman midwife, one of few in D.C. –– that made me feel safer going to appointments and walking into hospitals.
I prepared my husband too, for the moments when he might need to step in. I walked him through the signs to look for, who to talk to and what to say. I made sure he understood my fears and what I expected of him as my husband –– and as a white man in a medical space that has shown lack of care for Black women. Those conversations were some of the most honest and vulnerable in our relationship. Trying to explain the generational trauma and deep-seated fears that I had about being in a hospital setting in Washington, D.C., where I knew Black women died at such alarming rates, was tough.
Far too many women of color have tough conversations like these and give birth without the resources and information I had. Their experiences are clouded by bias and prejudice when they are in one of the most vulnerable positions a woman can experience.
When I became a doula to help make the process better for other women, I joined an extraordinary network of volunteers who show up at women’s bedsides to stand with them — and sometimes stand up for them — when they need it most.
Networks like these cannot do it alone, nor should they have to. Women in America need and deserve government support; our lives are at risk, and dare I say the future of our country is at risk. The United States spends trillions each year on health care, and it’s time that maternal health gets its fair share of the spending.
The funding in the president’s budget will make a big difference, but we need these investments to continue over the long term. We need more funding for care infrastructure, and we need laws that ensure control over our own bodies.
Giving birth in a supportive, responsive environment can be an extremely empowering experience. It was for me, despite the horrors I knew were possible. With more support from the government, experiences like mine can be the rule instead of the exception. What a necessary and welcome change that would be.
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