For bereaved parents, the Maternal and Child Health Stillbirth Prevention Act is a long-awaited victory

With all that is happening in the world, the signing of the Maternal and Child Health Stillbirth Prevention Act (HR 4581) on July 12 might easily pass unnoticed. But for those of us who are the bereaved parents of stillborn children, it was a long-awaited victory.

As a mother who gave birth to a full-term stillborn baby 26 years ago, I can attest to the heartbreak of grieving a child I anticipated welcoming. Everything instantly became painful — leaving the hospital, walking into our apartment, the funeral, looking pregnant after the delivery, producing breast milk without a baby to nurse, seeing other pregnant women, walking past the baby aisle in the supermarket, Mother’s Day, and watching life go on in a way completely unexpected from what I had imagined.

Stillbirth is defined as the death of an expected child at 20 or more weeks of pregnancy. According to the CDC, one in 175 pregnancies in the U.S. ends in stillbirth. That’s about 58 births a day — over 21,000 a year. It is estimated that as many as 25% of those are preventable. Other countries have made considerable strides in reducing stillbirths. In a report published by the World Health Organization comparing progress in decreasing stillbirth rates, the U.S. ranked 183 out of 195 countries. There is much work to be done.

This new law is an important step. It will expand the scope of the Maternal and Child Health Services Block Grant to allow states to use Social Security Title V funds for evidence-based programs and outcome research aimed at averting stillbirths.

While it is rarely spoken about, for those who have experienced it or know someone who has, a stillborn loss has a devastating, long-lasting impact on the parents and siblings. The topic deserves our attention — history has shown that decades of ignoring it hasn’t worked. Funding underscores the seriousness of this neglected tragedy and opens the door for better understanding, improved care, and fewer deaths. Thankfully, more resources exist today for grieving parents than did in 1997, when I gave birth to a stillborn baby, but prevention, bereavement care, and social support are nevertheless lacking.

Stillbirth remains a stigmatized and invisible loss. I have gone years without speaking of it; most people in my life today, even some of my closest friends and colleagues, have no idea.

My reticence isn’t because all these years later I don’t think of my beloved son; his memory is an integral part of me. I, like many others, have found the intense pain of stillborn loss silencing. It takes enormous courage and vulnerability to express something so incomprehensible.

It is a challenge to live without a child you love. Many of us over time have found the strength to rebuild ourselves and let joy back into our lives while not letting the child we lost be forgotten. Perhaps the passing of this legislation and seeing stillbirth acknowledged as a health-care crisis will empower other parents and siblings of stillborn children to voice their experiences, and in so doing, help themselves and others heal.

I am deeply grateful to the many people who channeled their grief to advocate for the passing of this legislation. To the doctors and nurses who seek to be better equipped to prevent stillbirths, and to the U.S. senators, representatives, and President Joe Biden who came together to find a path forward, I say thank you, with the hopes that systemic change will occur, save thousands of children, and prevent their parents and siblings from experiencing such a traumatic loss.

Meredith E. Friedman is a senior director of operations management. After losing her firstborn to stillbirth, she went on to have two other children. She lives in the Philadelphia area with her husband. She is an alumna of both Harvard University and the Wharton School. meredithfriedman@icloud.com