After losing her son Milan during pregnancy, a former labor and delivery nurse who now leads a beauty brand says she struggled to be seen as anything other than “strong.” The experience exposed gaps in a healthcare system she once trusted to protect patients like her.
The author had previously endured a high-risk pregnancy and emergency C-section. A vertical uterine scar from that surgery increased risks for future pregnancies, a fact she understood deeply. When she experienced a uterine rupture, she recognized the emergency but found her advocacy met with delayed response. “I knew what to watch for,” she wrote. “I knew my history. I knew when something felt wrong. Yet when I raised concerns, they were not met with the urgency they deserved.”
Black Maternal Mortality and Systemic Bias
Her story reflects a broader crisis. During Black Maternal Health Week, officials highlighted data showing Black women are three times more likely to die from pregnancy-related causes than white women, with over 80% of those deaths deemed preventable. Black infants also die at more than twice the rate of white infants, according to maternal health reports.
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Research shows that nearly 30% of Black women report mistreatment during childbirth, compared to about 20% overall. Nearly half said they withheld concerns, fearing dismissal or worsened care. “In one of the most vulnerable moments of a person’s life, too many are already calculating whether speaking up will make things worse,” the author noted.
These disparities reflect systemic bias and inconsistent responses to pain, the author argued.
Personal Loss Fuels Advocacy and Brand Mission
The founder of Mielle, a company focused on empowering Black women, connected her personal trauma to her professional mission. “Survival is not the finish line. Being heard, protected, and cared for should be,” she wrote. Her advocacy extends beyond mortality statistics to include the long-term mental health impacts of pregnancy loss, such as postpartum depression and unresolved grief.
After Milan’s death, the author describes how grief “entered my marriage, my motherhood, my body, my faith, and eventually my work.” She emphasizes that resilience should not be mistaken for acceptance of preventable harm. “The lesson should not be that Black women are uniquely equipped to carry devastating grief and still perform at a high level,” she wrote. “It should not be that our resilience makes systemic failures acceptable.”
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The author critiques cultural expectations that demand Black women transform survival into inspiration. “Too often, we celebrate the comeback without sitting long enough with the conditions that made it necessary,” she wrote. Her reflections highlight the need for hospitals to be better prepared for emergencies, for providers to listen without requiring proof, and for post-loss support that validates grief rather than pressuring women to “move on.”
Healthcare System Reforms Are Urgent
The author advocates for structural changes in healthcare institutions, stressing that hospitals require robust emergency protocols and staff trained to prioritize Black patients’ concerns. She argues that providers should not demand proof of distress but instead respond to expressed symptoms with urgency. This aligns with broader calls for dismantling cultural biases that normalize delaying care for Black women in labor.
Her perspective highlights the necessity of post-loss support that honors mourning without imposing timelines for “moving on.” The narrative concludes with a stark reminder: 80% of Black women who die from pregnancy-related causes could be saved if hospitals acted decisively, listened without skepticism, and prioritized equitable care above performative strength. It’s time to take action and demand better care for Black women. Get more of SELF’s great fitness and nutrition reporting delivered right to your inbox (for free!).
