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Five months into her pregnancy, Christine Daniels felt her blood pressure surge. Her head ached, and the skin on her feet stretched and cracked open. Her legs felt so heavy, she could hardly walk to her mom's apartment around the corner. Help was far away. In her rural north Florida town, there is no hospital. No emergency room or urgent care center. No maternal health care of any kind. Daniels, 33, had to drive about 70 miles round trip every other week for her prenatal appointments, and to deliver her baby.  (Hassanein, 8/11)

On Christmas night at her family’s home on the Yankton Sioux Reservation, Markita McBride felt a sudden exhaustion wash over her. She lay down to rest, then stumbled into the bathroom, where she found herself soaked in blood. Seven months pregnant, McBride was hemorrhaging. The clots were so big she thought she was miscarrying. Seeing the blood on her bed and the floor, her brother and sister broke the bathroom door open to find McBride in shock. (Hassanein, 8/11)

Several years ago, a group of five Black grandmothers in rural Alabama went to the office of their congresswoman U.S. Rep. Terri Sewell. They had a simple question: Why did their daughters have to travel so far to have their babies? Maternity wards at the hospitals where they lived were shutting down, and moms weren’t getting prenatal care. (Hassanein, 8/11)

Many pregnant people live miles from a hospital with obstetric care. For women of color in particular, this can prove fatal. (Haseman, Borresen, Hassanein and Caruso, 8/11)

In a recent statement, the American Nurses Association apologized to nurses of color, saying in the coming months it will launch a multi-phase project of “accountability, healing, and reconciliation. ”The “racial reckoning” statement is a “starting point for an overdue journey toward the future. "ANA intends to take full accountability for its actions,” the association wrote, promising “historic action.” (Hassanein, 8/16)