Better health care for Black moms, babies takes commitment and compassion

Not that many decades ago, it was common for a midwife and close female family members to come together in the home to provide support for Black women during childbirth. We need that same partnership today, the director of West Side United writes.

SHARE Better health care for Black moms, babies takes commitment and compassion
A mother holds her infant.

According to the Illinois Department of Public Health, from 2018 to 2020, Black women were three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related medical conditions than white women.

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Recently, West Side United and Lurie Children’s Hospital partnered to launch the West Side Healthy Parents and Babies program. The program provides expectant and new parents with free support from pregnancy to the first-year postpartum, connecting them to resources such as doula or lactation consultant services, and helping them navigate the health care system.

To announce the program and to celebrate the many community partners doing this important work, we hosted a panel discussion on this topic in Chicago’s Austin neighborhood during Black Maternal Child Health Week, which took place April 11-18.

Panelists, including a pediatric physician, a family medicine doctor, a doula and a mom and social justice advocate from the Westside NAACP, discussed the stark reality of maternal-child health for West Side families. The scary statistics, which include some of the highest incidence of low birth weight and preterm births, as well as the city’s highest maternal and infant mortality rates, are the byproduct of a complex web of social and systemic factors, such as years of disinvestment and inequitable access to quality, affordable health care.

It is clear that partnership and the shared commitment of hospital systems, medical providers and community organizations are essential as we strive to expand access to quality care, raise awareness of maternal-child health resources, and share culturally sensitive best practices for community outreach, clinical care and program delivery.

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As a Black mom myself, I know how fortunate I was to have a skilled doctor I trusted, to give birth in a local hospital with the tools and technology needed to support my high-risk pregnancy, and be cared for by health care professionals who showed respect for me, my family and my culture. I was also fortunate to have a doula at my side to provide guidance and support during my pregnancy, birth and postpartum experience.

But there are far too many Black women who don’t have that positive birth experience and outcome.

A tradition of support

As we prepared to adjourn, during the audience Q&A, we received an unexpected and powerful real-life example that personified the Black women, families and babies behind the dire data. A retired pediatrician from the community stood to introduce us to the visibly pregnant woman sitting next to her and explain that the woman was not currently receiving prenatal care. At the doctor’s encouragement, the expectant mom shared, through tears, that this was due to a combination of factors — negative experiences during the birth of her first child, fear, and lack of information about how and where to access services and resources.

This expectant mom’s story provided powerful evidence of the need for another critical component in maternal-child care — compassion. In a heartfelt display of unity, the audience — including local residents, community leaders and health care professionals — literally and figuratively wrapped their arms around that young woman to pledge assistance and promise that she would get medical and support services to help ensure a healthy pregnancy and birth.

This experience prompted me and many others to reflect on how our spontaneous, collective response to this expectant mom echoed some of the sacred historic, intergenerational traditions of Black culture around the birth experience.

Not that many decades ago, it was commonplace for a skilled and highly regarded local midwife and close female family members to come together in the home to provide support during childbirth — with everyone having a task to ensure that both mother and baby were well-attended. Let’s not sugar-coat it: This tradition evolved from a harsh reality of discrimination and limited access to hospitals and health care, particularly in rural communities. Yet, the intimacy of those shared and supportive birthing experiences lives on in the hearts and memories of so many of our Black families in a legacy of love.

Yes, we need and want the technology and advanced training that can address the many risks of pregnancy, birth and early childhood for Black mothers and children. But every mom and every baby also need and deserve the care, concern and encouragement from their family, community and health care providers provided during so many of those home birth experiences.

With partnership, commitment and compassion, working with our community and alongside existing medical and social support systems, we can improve prenatal, birth, postpartum and infant outcomes by connecting every growing family on the West Side to high-quality maternal-child health care.

Ayesha Jaco is the executive director of West Side United.

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