Every parent's worst nightmare is the loss of their child. There may be exceptions, but right now, I'm going to focus on those parents who would do anything for their children, yet sometimes face the devastating reality of loss.

During medical school, I was profoundly impacted by a young woman in her thirties, full of warmth and a deep longing to become a mother. Despite her successful career and marriage, she had tragically lost not one, not two, but three infants shortly after birth. Her pregnancies were fraught with complications. She experienced pre-eclampsia in all three, necessitating two emergency C-sections. The last pregnancy culminated in a near-fatal placental abruption. Despite the care of high-risk specialists across hospitals in Chicago and New York, the cause of these losses remained a heartbreaking mystery.

I met her during her fourth pregnancy, around the 32-week mark. She spoke to me about the other Black women in her family who had faced similar challenges. She wondered if there was a genetic link or if her lupus status played a role. Her resilience and hope were awe-inspiring, but you could see the loss behind her eyes. You could see the devastating impact of losing three little girls, whose bright features had gleamed before her eyes. You could see a mother who could not wait to see what her child would grow up to become yet, waited in the balance of wondering if she would need a fourth pink casket.

Her story underscores a larger issue: the intersection of maternal mortality crisis among Black women and the tragically high infant mortality rates within Black and Hispanic communities. On average, Black infants die three times more frequently than their white counterparts and nearly twice as often as Asian infants. The crisis extends to Hispanic infants as well, reflecting disparities in social and economic factors, inadequate healthcare access from prenatal to early childhood stages, and more.

I firmly believe we must increase federal funding for centers dedicated to Black maternal and infant health. It's disheartening to note that funding has decreased since 2022 for programs such as Healthy Start which works to address racial and ethnic disparities in health for mothers and infants, despite the urgent need. Hispanic infant health programs also require equitable funding and dedicated primary care providers who can provide ongoing monitoring from birth through early childhood. Initiatives like the Yale mother-baby van, which provides essential wellness checks and support directly to mothers and infants, are crucial models that should be expanded.

As we reflect on these challenges, it's clear that investing in our future generations, particularly those from Black and Hispanic backgrounds, is essential. We must strive to ensure that no mother ever has to endure the pain of burying three little pink caskets.