 | | "I don't want any other family to endure the trauma we endured," said Ms. Ervin, whose sister died from a serious pregnancy complication.Akilah Townsend for The New York Times |
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ST. LOUIS, Mo. — Tara Ervin will never forget the week her sister Kelly died. |
It was July 1996 and Kelly, 34 weeks pregnant, was in the emergency room with swollen feet and what the doctors said was likely a bladder infection. She was sent home with antibiotics but returned less than 48 hours later in worse shape, vomiting profusely. A blood test confirmed the worst as Kelly's doctors rushed to deliver her son by emergency cesarean. They told her family they were sorry, they had done everything they could to save her. |
An otherwise healthy 28-year-old had died from toxemia poisoning caused by pre-eclampsia, a serious complication of pregnancy that went untreated. Friends showed up at Kelly's baby shower the next day, only to learn she was gone. Kelly's family put photos of her newborn in her coffin. |
"I thought that was something that only happened in the movies," Ms. Ervin said in a recent interview, vowing that her sister's death would not be in vain. "I don't want any other family to endure the trauma we endured." |
The nonprofit, Parents as Teachers, is in a network of more than one dozen "home visiting" programs that won a large funding increase in the $1.7 trillion spending bill that Congress passed late last year. |
By providing the doulas, who offer nonmedical support to mothers before, during and after delivery, the program is extending a benefit largely associated with white and affluent women to predominantly Black, low-income mothers in St. Louis who would not otherwise know about it or be able to afford it. Unlike certified nurse midwives who deliver babies, doulas offer guidance on pain or complications ahead of delivery and help clients navigate hospitals and doctors — exactly the problems that Kelly experienced. Continuous guidance from a doula has been cited as one of the most effective interventions in easing pregnancy. |
The goal of the doulas is to go beyond the standard mission of supporting America's most vulnerable children from "cradle to career." Instead they start in mothers' wombs. |
"Doula support for a Black mother is like giving them a cape," said Constance Gully, the president and chief executive officer of the Parents as Teachers National Center. The program, she said, teaches mothers to "advocate for their babies beyond the hospital." |
The doula program began in St. Louis about four years ago when a group of Black women working at Parents as Teachers noticed a familiar refrain from clients fearful of the health care system. |
"I don't want to die," Aminah Williams, one of the first of the group to be certified as a doula, recalled more than one Black expectant mother telling her. |
"That shouldn't be the thing that comes to Black women's minds," Ms. Williams said. "And it breaks my heart that it is." |
The concerns are not hyperbole. Nationally, Black women are nearly three times as likely to die from a maternal cause as white women: The National Center for Health Statistics reports that in 2020, the maternal mortality rate for Black women was 55.3 deaths per 100,000 live births. The 2020 rate for white women was 19.1 deaths per 100,000 live births. |
"Racial and ethnic inequities in obstetrics and gynecology cannot be reversed without addressing all aspects of racism and racial bias, including sociopolitical forces that perpetuate racism," the American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists said in a statement last year. "We have an obligation to work to overhaul currently unjust systems that perpetuate unacceptable racial inequities in health outcomes." |
 | | Doula Donna Givens, left, with Kodi Washington, with her daughter.Akilah Townsend for The New York Times |
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The five certified doulas at the organization in St. Louis are a rarity — roughly 10 percent of the nation's doulas are Black women — and see themselves as crucial to their Black patients, including newborns, who some research has shown fare better when treated by Black health care professionals. |
"I'm Black and I matter to those moms because of it," said Robin Lloyd, one of the doulas, who almost bled to death after giving birth nearly 20 years ago when she said her concerns were disregarded. "We always matter a little more to those who look like us, who go through what we go through." |
"We're here to make sure they have a good experience when no one else is interested in that," said Donna Givens, the manager of community partnerships and groups for Parents as Teachers, who was the first certified doula in the St. Louis program. |
On a recent day, Ms. Givens was at a St. Louis maternal homeless shelter, Our Lady's Inn, leading a support group session with a half-dozen new and expectant mothers. |
"I wasn't thinking of myself pregnant in a maternal shelter," said Kaneisha, 22, who began to cry, and who asked to be identified only by her first name. "But I shouldn't be judged for having somewhere to lay my head." |
One of the other mothers, Diamond, who also asked that only her first name be used, said Kaneisha would not have to worry about that with a doula. Diamond, 21, said she had recently had a vaginal birth after an earlier cesarean, even though her doctors had pressured her against it. |
"When I said I had a doula, they flipped the script," Diamond said. "They looked at me like, 'How do you know about that?' I felt famous." |
That same day, Ms. Lloyd hauled a backpack with a doll, a prosthetic breast and a bag of diapers up to an apartment to check on another mother, Alaila Jordan, who had delivered the day before Thanksgiving. Ms. Jordan told Ms. Lloyd that her baby girl was finally gaining weight, but she was still on edge. She worried about where to store her milk supply and had been researching some storage strategies on TikTok. |
"Please don't stress yourself out," Ms. Lloyd said. "And please, please stay off TikTok." |
Ms. Lloyd pulled out a postpartum depression screening and handed it to Ms. Jordan. The 22-year-old filled it out and handed it back, prompting Ms. Lloyd to lean over to her and ask softly, "So tell me, what can we do to make you feel better?" |
Ms. Jordan admitted that she was frustrated with her partner and felt unsupported. "I try to hide it and say it's the breastfeeding, but it's really that," she said. |
Ms. Lloyd promised she would be back to work with the young couple, and that she'd also bring a thermometer after noticing the apartment was too warm for safe sleeping. |
Ms. Jordan said there was a marked difference between talking to Ms. Lloyd and her obstetrician. "It's nice to have somebody asking about me," she said. |
Read the rest of the story here. |
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