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As a midwife, I know mothers are being asked to carry too much

I worry about this hidden crisis: the mothers who are quietly carrying the burden of their children’s health, writes midwife Jasmine Jonah

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I worry about mothers who are quietly carrying the burden of their children’s health, writes midwife Jasmine Jonah
I worry about mothers who are quietly carrying the burden of their children’s health, writes midwife Jasmine Jonah. Picture: Getty
Jasmine Jonah

By Jasmine Jonah

Every midwife remembers certain mothers.

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Not always the most dramatic births, or the loudest emergencies, but the women who smile and say they are fine when you can see they are holding everything together by a thread. The woman who has read so much conflicting advice online that she no longer knows who to trust. The woman who is worried about her baby, her body, her mental health, her job, her partner, her other children, and still feels she should somehow be grateful, glowing, and coping.

We talk a lot about birth as a beginning. Yet the truth is that the first days, weeks, and months of a baby’s life do not just shape the child. They shape the mother too. They can be full of joy, but they can also be frightening, painful and overwhelming.

The recent announcement that the HPV vaccine will help drive cervical cancer deaths among young women in England to almost zero shows the importance of supporting our young people. Right now, too many women are being asked to navigate pregnancy and early motherhood without that same level of support.

Britain’s maternity crisis is often spoken about through scandals, statistics, and inquiries. The Ockenden report into Nottingham’s maternity services is a painful reminder of what can happen when women’s concerns are dismissed, staff are overstretched, and unsafe cultures are allowed to take root. The review examined thousands of cases involving the death or serious harm of mothers and babies, making it the largest maternity investigation in NHS history.

The response to the Amos review shows that the problem is not confined to one trust or one inquiry. The appointment of England’s first maternity and neonatal commissioner is a welcome acknowledgement that childbirth care needs urgent reform, but it is also a sobering one.

Lady Amos’s review found a system that too often fails to listen to women, is marked by racism and discrimination, and is no longer consistently able to deliver safe, compassionate care for every family. A commissioner may help drive accountability, but no single appointment can replace the trusted staff, time, resources, and culture change mothers need before harm occurs.

That makes Yvette Cooper’s intervention significant. Her commitment to make maternity and child health a major focus, and to respond robustly to the Ockenden and Amos reports, is a welcome sign that these failures are being taken seriously at the highest level. But for women and families, the real test will be whether that attention translates into lasting action: listening to women, rebuilding trust, and giving maternity services the staff, time, and support they need.

The report shows that listening to women is a patient safety intervention. The fact remains that maternal mortality is at a twenty-year high, and black mothers are more likely to die in childbirth than white mothers. Behind that statistic are women of colour who have said they were not believed, not listened to, or not taken seriously. No mother should have to fight to be heard at the most vulnerable moment of her life.

Seeing these problems each day, I worry about this hidden crisis: the mothers who are quietly carrying the burden of their children’s health.

I think, for example, of the women who I have seen come into Her Village Maternity appointments already anxious because of something they have seen in a WhatsApp group, on TikTok, or from public figures with no real understanding of their pregnancy. Some have been frightened out of taking ordinary medicines, even when they have a fever. Others are nervous about vaccines in pregnancy or worry that the vaccines their baby receives at eight, 12, and 16 weeks are “too much” for such a tiny body.

That fear is understandable. Pregnancy makes you protective in a way that is hard to describe until you are living it. But the danger is that when fear fills the space where trusted advice should be, women and babies can be left less protected.

In these moments, trust becomes everything. Pregnancy and early motherhood are full of decisions. Some are joyful, some are practical and some are frightening. Should I worry about this symptom? Is this pain normal? Should I have this vaccine? Is my baby feeding enough?

When the system is stretched, those questions can go unanswered. As misinformation fills the gap, women are left trying to make serious health decisions while scrolling through fear, judgement, and half-truths.

We see this, for example, in vaccines given to mums in pregnancy like the whooping cough vaccination, where national data shows only 65% coverage in the UK. The success of the HPV vaccine programme shows what can happen when trust, access, and public health work together. For a baby too young to be fully protected, that 65% number is not enough.

These problems feel painfully close to home. But they are not only British problems.

Whether a woman gives birth in Birmingham or Bangladesh, she needs the same basic things: skilled antenatal care, adequate nutrition, advice she can trust, vaccines that protect her and her baby, and a health service accessible and strong enough to reach her before something goes wrong. Around the world, maternal deaths have fallen dramatically over the past two decades, which proves progress is possible. But hundreds of thousands of women still die every year from causes linked to pregnancy and childbirth, while babies are born too small or too soon, often because care is too far away, too expensive, or too fragile.

That should matter to us here.

Not only because mothers elsewhere deserve our sympathy from a distance, but because the health of women and babies everywhere is connected. Stronger health systems mean pregnancies and safer births. Trusted health workers mean better vaccine confidence and higher breastfeeding rates. Healthier mothers mean healthier children, families, and communities. And in an interconnected world, prevention is always safer, kinder, and cheaper than waiting for crisis.

The lesson from Ockenden and Amos is not only about one trust, one scandal, or one set of recommendations. It is about whether women are believed when they say something is wrong. That same lesson applies far beyond one hospital: mothers and babies are safest when health systems are strong, trusted, and able to act early. Cooper’s focus on maternity care is an opportunity to show that those lessons will now be acted on, not simply acknowledged.

Maternal health is not a niche issue. It is not only a women’s issue. It is one of the clearest tests of whether a society listens, values care, and understands that healthy futures begin long before a child takes their first steps.

No mother should die giving life. No child should die from preventable causes. If Ockenden and Amos teach us anything, it is that listening to women is not a soft extra in healthcare — it saves lives. Supporting maternal and child survival, in Britain and around the world, is one of the most effective investments we can make for a safer, healthier, and more prosperous future.

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Jasmine Jonah is a Registered Midwife at Her Village Maternity and a spokesperson for Healthy World, Secure Britain.

LBC Opinion provides a platform for diverse opinions on current affairs and matters of public interest.

The views expressed are those of the authors and do not necessarily reflect the official LBC position.

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