This question has always bothered me because even in developed countries, where medical care is meant to be better and more accessible, this is still a problem. So, you really have to ask yourself why.
Why are black children in England three times more likely to die than white children? Why do black Americans have an infant mortality rate 2.4 times higher than their white counterparts?
A Look at The Stats And Reports
Well, according to the Office of National Statistics, one possible reason is deprivation. Black babies are more likely to live in deprived areas than white babies.
This begs the question, do white babies born in the same deprived areas have the same mortality rate as black babies? If the answer is no, we need to look a little closer. Does disadvantage also equate to poor quality services in hospitals?
In November 2023, a Guardian report cited other possible reasons such as racism and pressures on the National Health Service (NHS). According to the article, the mortality rate of white babies has remained constant since 2020 and has even fallen in rich neighbourhoods.
The mortality rate of black babies, on the other hand, has risen and even doubled in the poorest neighbourhoods. In other words, despite the pressure on the NHS, white babies are still doing better than black babies. This then boils it down to racism which is often hidden or disguised in other forms.
As well as babies, black mothers are also dying.
In 2020, black mothers in America were twice as likely to receive late or no care than white mothers, according to the US Department of Health and Human Services.
A US study also found that black babies cared for by white doctors were three times more likely to die in hospital than white newborns. This figure is halved when black babies are cared for by a black doctor.
Can someone make it make sense, please? If that’s not a blatant example of racism in this day and age, I don’t know what is.
In February 2024 in the UK, it was reported that a black pregnant woman died at Liverpool Women’s Hospital due to delays in diagnosis and treatment. She arrived at the hospital in acute pain and was not examined until the next day when it was discovered that her baby was dead.
This raises so many questions: why did they wait until the next day if she was in so much pain? Could it be because of the long-standing misconception that black women do not feel pain?
Racism disguised as ethnic bias.
She then died two days later, and it was claimed that this was due to cultural and ethnic bias – I guess those are the new words for racism. Want to hear the reason why the staff didn’t give this woman the treatment she needed?
Well, an inquest into her death found that staff said she was being “difficult.” Anyone in acute pain who has just learned that their baby has died is going to be difficult – where’s the compassion?
In an article published in the Medical Journal BMJ in 2022, following a year-long investigation into racial injustice and human rights in UK maternity care, racism was found to be at the root of inequality in the treatment of black mothers.
At least they dared to call a spade a spade and not try to dress it up in fancy clothes. Until people recognise, acknowledge, and accept the true cause of these problems, there will be no real effective and long-lasting solutions.
My Story
My son was two weeks overdue, and as he was my first born this was nothing unusual, but it did mean that I eventually had to be induced to start labour. Luckily this didn’t involve a drip so I didn’t have to stay in hospital, but when the pain started I was rushed to hospital.
As I was a first-time mum and had never experienced pain like this in my life, I thought I was going to die. When I arrived at the hospital, I was examined by a white midwife and you wouldn’t believe the first thing she said to me: paraphrasing “Stop exaggerating, it’s not that deep.”
She examined me and came to the conclusion that I wasn’t far enough for active labour, gave me two paracetamol, and told me to walk around a bit. I was in so much pain at this point that I didn’t really understand her comment until much later.
I took the paracetamol and sat down in the corridor because every time I walked, the pain got worse. I don’t know how she expected me to walk around, but as people were now staring at me in the corridor, I got in a wheelchair and went outside where the pain didn’t subside.
Left to wait and forgotten about.
So, I eventually went back inside, reported to the midwife that I was in unbearable pain with every contraction, and was asked to wait for a room. I had arrived at the hospital around 1 pm and it was now about 4 pm. So I sat in the corridor again and waited.
By 8 pm I hadn’t heard anything from the midwife about the room, so my mother-in-law went to see what was going on. She found out that the midwives had swapped shifts and the ones who were there now didn’t know I was out. Can you believe that!
Anyway, I was taken to a room and the plan was a water birth, but while they were examining me, I had a contraction and they noticed that my son’s heart rate was dropping slower than expected. The new midwife then pressed the emergency button, and all the doctors came pouring in.
The cord around his neck.
They had to hook me up to a monitor because this happened with every contraction, and a midwife had to stay with me while they contemplated a caesarean section because they suspected the baby had the cord around his neck.
In the end, I didn’t have a caesarean but I was in labour for 19 hours. After gas and air didn’t help for hours, I asked for an epidural because I was so tired and needed to sleep. My son was delivered the next morning with the help of a ventouse.
However, when he came out I was scared that he wasn’t breathing because he wasn’t crying or moving. Midwives and doctors surrounded him and tried to get him to breathe, which he eventually did.
My daughter’s delivery on the other hand.
My daughter’s story is not as traumatic. I had chosen to deliver her in a different hospital to my son, but it didn’t matter because when I told the midwife that my waters had broken, she didn’t believe me.
She checked and even had another midwife check and they both concluded that it wasn’t my water but rather a different fluid. They sent me home and told me to get in the bath, take paracetamol and record the time between contractions.
Believing it wasn’t my water, I went to get something to eat, but then the contractions started. I rushed home to the bath and eventually gave birth to my daughter at home, with the help of an ambulance crew that had to be called because I was now in active labour and couldn’t go back to the hospital.
In conclusion
The moral of the story is that black mothers are taken less seriously when they voice their concerns, which can lead to devastating consequences for their children and sometimes themselves.
My story is one of the reasons why the data in the above articles resonated with me. After hearing other stories and watching documentaries on this topic, it is clear that there is a systemic way of thinking and behaving in the medical field when it comes to black people.
It is beyond me how this can still be a problem in a society that supposedly champions diversity and inclusion. Unless this is just a facade to cover the hidden reality that these systems are still institutionally racist and discriminate against people of color.
A Little Encouragement
I’m not sure what is being done to address this issue, but a good place to start would be re-education to combat any misconceptions, stereotypes, and prejudices people clearly still have toward black people.
To the black mothers, I would encourage you to equip yourself with knowledge and utilise the people around you because most of us, our mothers, grandmothers, aunts, or friends’ aunts are or have been midwives. So, try and get as much support as you can from them.
Black women give birth every day all over the world, most with little or no access to hospitals. Birth is a natural process, and your body knows what to do when the time comes.
Don’t get me wrong, go to the hospital if you need to, but also listen to your body because sometimes the advice you are given is just standard procedure, but that doesn’t mean it will work for you.
And with that, I’ll leave you with this:
“There are steps that can be taken to reduce maternal mortality rates, but they start with valuing the very lives of these people who are giving birth.”
Linda Goler Blount.
