The majority of California’s roughly 300,000 teachers don’t have access to the state-funded paid leave program that most new parents in the private sector do. Instead, many local school districts deduct the cost of a substitute teacher from educators’ pay during parental leave.

Because her daughter arrived before the school year ended, Blustein used 10 of her accrued sick days — paid time off she wanted to bank for later to bond with her baby or to care for her if she got sick.

Now, California lawmakers have given public school and community college employees up to 14 weeks of paid pregnancy leave in the education bill accompanying the , after Gov. Gavin Newsom this year.

It’s a reversal for Newsom in his final year in office. In 2019, the governor that would have given school employees at least six weeks of paid leave, and a similar Assembly bill that died on the Senate floor in 2024. Several analysts said the issue appeals to voters on both sides of the aisle, ahead of Newsom’s potential 2028 presidential run.

State Department of Finance spokesperson H.D. Palmer said in an email that “educator workforce recruitment and retention has been a priority for the administration since the governor’s first day in office” but that the funding was not previously available.

Paid leave policies for educators and other state workers have garnered bipartisan support in recent years, including in conservative-led states such as Alabama, Louisiana, and Georgia, and blue states such as , said Vicki Shabo, a senior fellow specializing in gender equity and paid leave at the think tank New America.

After the Supreme Court’s 2022 Dobbs decision overturned the constitutional right to abortion, some conservative lawmakers in states that banned abortion embraced paid leave for public employees to signal support for babies after they were born, Shabo said. Many limited the benefit to state employees and framed it as a tool to recruit and retain them.

Elizabeth Gedmark, a vice president at A Better Balance, a nonprofit that advocates for workplace equality, said paid leave “polls incredibly well across all political lines, because everyone agrees that you shouldn’t have to go back to work a day after you had a baby.”

In 2019, President Donald Trump signed into law a bill that of paid leave. But Shabo said the current administration hasn’t made any moves to expand paid leave.

Palmer, of the Department of Finance, said the state can now afford the roughly $218 million leave program because of billions of dollars in unexpected tax revenue, largely tied to tech workers’ stock options. Much of that revenue is constitutionally guaranteed to schools, so it can’t cover other public workers who are also shut out of California’s paid leave system.

Many school district administrators have largely opposed paid leave in the past because of the cost. The state’s plan calls for districts to pay for the leave out of their annual cost-of-living raise, which this year is bigger than the law requires.

David Roth, superintendent of Buckeye Union School District in El Dorado County, said the math still isn’t great for some schools, and that “the real value reaching the classroom is smaller than the headline number suggests.”

The California Association of School Business Officials had opposed previous related legislation, saying it would create an “unfunded mandate,” but largely supports the new plan now that the start date has been pushed from July 1 to January 2027. The organization’s chief governmental relations officer, Sara Pietrowski, said concerns remain but that the group would work with the state to avoid additional fiscal challenges.

The proposal would close a gap that many Californians don’t realize exists. The state was one of the first to offer — under its current program, eligible workers get of their pay for up to 20 weeks of combined leave and disability benefits.

But most California teachers, , are shut out. The program is funded through a payroll deduction for state disability insurance, and public agencies are . Districts can opt in, but the move must be bargained collectively, as in the Los Angeles Unified School District.

Most educators must use up their accrued sick days before receiving a fraction of their pay for the remainder of their leave, under a provision of the .

Because of that, it’s not uncommon for teachers to plan their pregnancy leave for summer breaks to try to avoid burning up their sick leave. But that can be challenging for those who have pregnancy complications or early deliveries, like Blustein, or those who experience challenges getting pregnant.

Erika Jones, an elementary school teacher in Los Angeles and the secretary-treasurer of the California Teachers Association, said her colleagues routinely teach until they go into labor, which can be disruptive.

It took one colleague around seven years to bank 77 sick days to use for a single pregnancy.

“Women go back sooner than they should have, because they don’t have the days,” Jones said. “You end up in this deficit zone.”

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

For the first time in a quarter century, the U.S. no longer meets a main criterion for having eliminated measles as a public health threat. That status hinges on sporadic outbreaks fizzling out within a year. Utah’s outbreak has lasted for longer, since .

Nearly 400 people have been hospitalized with measles in the U.S. this year and last, three people have died, and at least three suffered with .

This month, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention is set to finalize a comprehensive study of the nation’s measles situation, examining data from January 2025 through June 2026.

“I don’t think we could say with a straight face that there hasn’t been transmission over the past 12 months,” said a CDC scientist with knowledge of the agency’s measles report. (³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ agreed not to name the researcher, who is concerned about retaliation.) The researcher said a national committee of measles specialists will review the CDC’s internal report, which then goes to the Pan American Health Organization, a group that evaluates the measles elimination status of countries throughout North, South, and Central America and the Caribbean.

PAHO will make at an annual meeting this fall, but scientists say the writing is on the wall. “The assessment for elimination isn’t until November, but that is a scheduling issue, basically,” said Anne Schuchat, who led the CDC’s immunization and respiratory disease group from 2006 to 2015.

“It’s just so sad, because some people will get brutally ill,” she said of measles’ return. “This is a wake-up call.”

Pediatricians in Utah have been on the front lines as measles and other vaccine-preventable ailments have returned to the U.S. In interviews with ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ, six doctors shared insights on this new era of vaccine hesitancy — and what could be done to turn the situation around.

The conversations have been edited for clarity.

On Unvaccinated Children Hospitalized With Measles Complications

Emilie Morris, a hospital pediatrician in Salt Lake County and Utah County: When children come in, they’re often bent over. We call it tripoding, which is particular to upper respiratory infections and airway swelling. They have a rash — viruses cause rashes all the time — but in this context, the kid is hunched over, mouth open, drooling, crying, maybe not even producing tears, because they’re so dehydrated. Really labored breathing, kind of tugging in their belly, tugging between their ribs. Their eyes look kind of glazed over. It’s like they’re seeing through you.

Nathan Money, a hospital pediatrician in Salt Lake County and Utah County: If the child has a fever or trouble breathing, and they’re unvaccinated, I have to be way more aggressive from a medical standpoint, because they are at higher risk of having life-threatening illnesses. I have to do more blood work, or lumbar punctures to rule out meningitis. I have to do things which are painful, and it’s traumatic for the families.

I tell them, “Because your child doesn’t have vaccines, I have to be more worried about conditions like sepsis or meningitis, so therefore I need to do more workup.” The last thing I want to do is miss something. These are parents who love their children. They always tell me, “Do what you need to do to make sure my child is safe.”

On Treating Unvaccinated Children Hospitalized for Measles

Trahern W. Jones, a pediatric infectious disease specialist based in Salt Lake City: So I’m coming into a room and just hearing the most awful barking cough, just a cough and a high-pitch stridor as the child is trying to breathe. And he’s just coughing so hard it just makes you feel short of breath. He looks like he’s been beaten down for days, but he can’t rest, because the cough keeps him awake.

The parents tell me they’re not anti-vaccine, but in the past, somebody they know had a reaction to a vaccine — or something they thought was a reaction to a vaccine — and so they paused vaccines when the child was a baby. They were planning to catch up later.

In another case, the parent was stunned by how awful it was. I asked them what they knew about measles before their child was sick, and they said the only person who’d ever taught them anything about measles was their grandmother who had taken care of her kids with measles ages ago. That’s something I’ve heard from other parents. It’s such an awful illness. Even the best possible course is going to be one of the worst diseases most children ever go through.

There are multiple facets to it. Physically, the child has been beat down for multiple days by this virus. The parents don’t get to sleep, because they’re nursing their child. Then there’s the emotional component because the parent is regretting not getting the vaccine, not realizing how bad this was, and then feeling deeply ashamed, trying to reconcile with family members who are really upset at them for not getting their child vaccinated.

Morris: One child was from a family that was uninsured because they didn’t feel that they would need to use the medical system. They were faced with the high burden of cost of our healthcare system. The cost was playing into the parents’ decision on whether or not their child should receive necessary medical care. I said something like: “Please don’t go home. Your child needs oxygen. She has pneumonia. We will figure out a way to pay for this, because we acknowledge what we do is expensive.”

On top of that, the parent had several other children in the home who weren’t vaccinated. It was past the period where we could intervene with vaccines to try to prevent infection, so then our recommendation was to quarantine their children at home for 21 days: “Don’t interact with anybody else in your community. Don’t go to the grocery store, even with a mask. Please take this seriously.”

It takes time for parents to understand the level of concern I have, even when their child is physically ill in the hospital requiring ongoing care. It’s pretty indicative of the breakdown of trust between physicians and families. I say, “This is the gravity or severity of your child’s situation and how serious we need to be about protecting other people.”

It’s frustrating. How can I make people understand I have a very genuine concern for their child? And I know they share that concern, but maybe it’s not the same degree of concern, because they don’t understand the illness and how severe it can become.

Money: It’s heartbreaking to see these children struggling to survive when measles could have been easily prevented by a safe mechanism that is readily available and well studied. These are well-meaning parents who love their children, who have gotten bad information from federal leadership or from online sources. The saddest part to me is when I am caring for a child and the parent says, “I didn’t know that this could get so bad.”

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On Conversations With Parents Who Don’t Vaccinate Their Children

Tim Duffy, a pediatrician in Salt Lake County: A lot of families aren’t aggressively anti-vax, but they’re hesitant. Younger parents who grew up in the digital age have done their research — “research” in quotation marks — for months. And they keep getting confirmation of their concerns on social media. They think they’re doing what’s best for their child.

I’ve told families: “You could do nothing I say as a pediatrician. You could sleep your child on their stomach. You could not put them in a car seat or, when they’re older, not use seat belts. You could do nothing I say, and for your individual child, they will probably be OK. But from my standpoint, where I’m taking care of thousands of kids, within a system that takes care of hundreds of thousands of kids, we will have bad outcomes. These children will show up at our facilities, and it’s so sad.”

Pediatrician in southern Utah whom ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ agreed not to name, because of concerns about harassment after being targeted by anti-vaccine activists in the past: A lot of parents are concerned about autism. I’ve told them that I’d be very concerned if there was any evidence that what we’re doing is causing autism. But if vaccines were causing autism, we should see more cases of autism in vaccinated kids compared to unvaccinated kids, and we’re just not seeing that.

I’ve also had families who say they want to be natural, or that they’re concerned about what is in the shots. A frequently asked question is: “Did you vaccinate your children?” I say that knowing what I know, I’m confident giving this to my kids. They’re all vaccinated.

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On the Influence of Politics on Vaccine Hesitancy

Jones: Vaccines have become a political football. That wasn’t true 20 years ago. But now it’s used to drive a wedge between groups of people, which is unfortunate. Vaccines are one of the main reasons why we don’t have to worry about losing our kids.

Southern Utah pediatrician: People don’t know who to believe. If politics comes up, I tell parents that my messaging on vaccines is not politically motivated. When parents ask about changes to the vaccine schedule, I’m transparent. [In January, the Department of Health and Human Services reducing the number of vaccines given to children. A few months later, a federal judge blocked those changes.]

I’ve said there was a process for the approval of immunizations through ACIP [the Advisory Committee on Immunization Practices], which is made up of scientists, public health experts, and doctors, and all those people were let go, and a new panel was selected. A couple of individuals changed the recommendation outside of the time-tested, evidence-based process for evaluating vaccines. That raises concerns for me as a doctor. I tell parents that the American Academy of Pediatrics, the American Academy of Family Physicians, and several other professional organizations have issued statements saying that these changes are not based on evidence.

Ellie Brownstein, a pediatrician in Salt Lake County and president-elect of the Utah chapter of the American Academy of Pediatrics: I avoid talking about politics, but what’s being said has added another layer to our work. One family asked me about changes to vaccine recommendations, so instead of just telling them what immunizations are due, I talk with them about why physicians and researchers have followed a different schedule for years, about the reasoning and the science behind it. I explain that I trust these experts over someone without a lot of experience.

Money: People are not vaccinated, because they’ve lost trust in the medical community. They’re placing trust elsewhere. Rebuilding trust is a complicated process, but it comes from consistent messaging at every level, from the pediatrician to local health departments to community leaders, city leadership, district leadership, religious leadership, educational leadership.

We need consistent messaging from state leadership, which has been pretty absent. I want to see commercials on TV about the safety of the MMR [measles, mumps, and rubella] vaccine and the dangers of the measles, sponsored by my state leadership. I’d like to see this on billboards and in schools, in public buildings and grocery stores. I want to go to a sports event and see messages about the measles and the MMR vaccine. Right now, people have to go out of their way to find information from reputable sources.

We also need policy changes to support vaccination. This train is going in the wrong direction, and it can feel like a helpless situation, because we’re just not seeing the public messaging and leadership that’s needed to turn this around.

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Advice on Talking With Parents Who Don’t Vaccinate Their Children

Jones: Approach them with as much compassion as you possibly can. Ask open-ended questions to learn about their experiences that led them to have these concerns. I think it’s really important to not come down on them, citing facts and figures and pointing to guidelines on why they need to get their kids vaccinated. But try to direct their attention to the fact that you’re a real person with your own real experiences and knowledge. I point out to families that I have my own kids, and I would never recommend something for your kids that I wouldn’t do for mine.

Southern Utah pediatrician: I’ve learned that if you come down hard, you’re going to lose people who need care. My number one goal now is to build bridges and maintain a relationship with families, because that’s what’s going to allow me to convince some of them.

I approach people differently depending on where they are. Parents who are very skeptical or anti-vax will say no when I tell them their child is due for immunizations. I’ll say: “Fine. You guys get to choose. You’re the parents. But I’m curious to know what your reasoning is.” Sometimes they’re just like, “It’s something I’ve decided.” They don’t want to have a conversation.

It’s a good day if I can have a conversation with someone who doesn’t want to vaccinate, even if I don’t convince them. I try to help them think through things rather than shoving anything down their throat. When they’re done talking, I’ll ask, “Can I share my perspectives on this?” Some will say yes enthusiastically, and others will say yes because they’re being polite.

A lot of parents aren’t sure what to do, and those are the people I focus most of my time on. I focus our conversation on their specific concerns, and I’m open about specific side effects that different immunizations can have. For example, I’ll tell them that some children get a fever after a vaccine, which is OK. The fever is not harmful, but it can make babies feel crummy as their body is building up antibodies against viruses and bacteria.

Brownstein: I don’t like the idea of excluding unvaccinated kids from my practice. I know some do that. But what that does is it ends any future discussion. I can’t keep talking with parents about vaccines if I kick them out of my practice, and if these parents find like-minded doctors, this situation will get worse.

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On Being on the Front Lines of Measles’ Comeback in the U.S.

Money: I wish that people could see what I see. Everyone else sees what people post on Instagram. Or they think, “Someone I know had measles when they were a kid and they were fine.” But as a hospital-based pediatrician, I see what happens when things go poorly. I see what happens when children with measles aren’t able to breathe on their own, and they’re in a hospital bed with a cannula in their nose, struggling to breathe, an IV in their arm because they can’t drink on their own. And the child is terrified, and the parents are scared that their child might die.

It’s heartbreaking as a pediatrician and as a father to know that the entire situation could have been easily prevented.

Duffy: Even though parents say vaccination is their choice, I still feel personally responsible if something bad happens that’s preventable, because I feel like I didn’t say the right thing, I didn’t ask the right questions. Maybe I let it drop because of the look on a parent’s face.

Morris: Every pediatrician I know cares so deeply about what they do. Sometimes people forget that we are human beings practicing this discipline, and we bring all our concerns for our community into this space. I’m trying to navigate a lot of complex human emotions, like how it feels to hold grief with a family when something bad happens that was preventable — which is the worst situation, because you think, “Could I have done something differently?”

Jones: I think we’ll see more diseases start coming back that we thought we had gotten rid of. I think it’s going to take dramatic changes to actually prevent those outcomes. I’m not necessarily seeing those changes being done by those in power.

I think of that quote from The Lord of the Rings. It’s something like, you don’t get to choose the time that you’re born into, but you get to choose what you’re going to do about it. And if there’s any comfort that I have, it’s in knowing that there are right decisions to make and that I’m going to make them, and I’m going to help others make them, too.

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

Meanwhile, patients, their advocates, and clinicians say little has improved.

“It has never been this bad for patients,” said U.S. Rep. Greg Murphy (R-N.C.), a physician who co-chairs the GOP Doctors Caucus.

The overarching intent of the June 2025 pledge was to improve a controversial process called prior authorization, which regularly requires patients or someone on their medical team to seek approval from insurers before proceeding with treatment.

According to AHIP, the health insurance industry trade group, health plans have eliminated 6.5 million prior authorizations for patients — equal to an 11% reduction — since the announcement.

But critics remain skeptical. Sally Nix, a patient advocate who has a chronic disease, described the voluntary pledge as “performative.” And Murphy, who participated in the news conference with Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr. announcing the pledge last year, said it has “no teeth.”

Voluntary insurer pledges rarely make things better for patients, said , a research professor at the Center on Health Insurance Reforms at Georgetown University.

“In the absence of clear rules, policies, standards, and mandates,” she said, insurance companies are “going to do what makes sense for them to do financially.”

The Department of Health and Human Services did not respond to questions for this report. It isn’t clear how, or whether, the Trump administration is holding insurers accountable.

‘Zero Faith’

Prior authorization — sometimes called preauthorization or precertification — has been around for decades. The insurance industry has long argued that the practice, which varies by company, helps control costs, reduces waste and fraud, and prevents potential harm to patients. It’s regularly invoked for a huge swath of services, ranging from low-cost urgent care to expensive cancer treatment.

“Prior authorization is a vital patient safeguard,” said Chris Bond, a spokesperson for AHIP.

The 2024 killing of UnitedHealthcare CEO Brian Thompson sparked a national groundswell of anger about insurance denials, with patients and doctors becoming increasingly vocal about the tactics they say insurance companies use to boost profits at the expense of care.

Prior authorization reform is one of the rare healthcare issues Democrats and Republicans tend to agree on. On July 15, the House Ways and Means Committee unanimously that would force Medicare Advantage plans to provide to the federal government a list of all items and services that are subject to prior authorization, and to report data about denials and grievances, among other requirements.

Last year’s industry pledge was organized as a direct response to public anger, Mehmet Oz, administrator of the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services, said when it was announced. “There’s violence in the streets over these issues,” he said.

“Americans are upset about it,” Oz said, later adding, “I’m looking forward to seeing the results.”

Mike Gartner, founder of Health Access Innovation, an organization that helps patients overturn insurance denials, said he doubts that insurance companies are changing their policies in meaningful ways. The 11% reduction in prior authorization cited by AHIP “hides a lot of nuance,” Gartner said.

Patients who need the costliest services, such as cancer treatment, are still being disproportionately denied access to doctor-recommended care, he said.

AHIP said its data included reductions in prior authorization for medical services, not prescription medicines. The trade group didn’t provide details explaining which services have been dropped from prior authorization or how those reductions differ across individual insurers.

Last year, Oz said the federal government would be “evaluating progress” toward the pledge and “driving accountability,” and he foreshadowed “public dashboards.” But no such dashboards exist, and federal officials did not respond to questions about how they’re holding companies accountable.

Murphy, the North Carolina congressman, said he has “zero faith” in the industry policing itself.

He didn’t believe insurance companies then, he said, “and I don’t believe them now.”

‘At War’ With an Insurer

In February, days after Betsy Adler and Justin Young’s daughter Coco was born with a serious heart defect, the Stillwater, Minnesota, family received paperwork showing they were racking up out-of-network costs.

During Adler’s pregnancy, the family had switched insurers, , which is based in Minnetonka, Minnesota, and one of that initially signed the industry pledge. Adler said she’d checked with her employer’s human resources department and on Medica’s website to make sure her maternal-fetal specialists and hospital were in-network before their new health plan went into effect earlier this year.

But then, the insurance company started processing some claims as out-of-network. By mid-March, the family had accrued more than $4,000 in out-of-network charges, on top of more than $3,000 for in-network bills. And the bills kept coming.

When Adler, a psychotherapist, called to figure out what was going on, she said, an insurance company representative said she hadn’t submitted a referral from her primary care provider beforehand. Attempts to fix the problem went nowhere. At one point, Adler said, Medica required her to visit a clinic she’d never been to before to obtain a referral. But she said a Medica representative told her the referral was never received, because the insurer’s fax machine was down.

“I have a critically ill child,” Adler remembered thinking shortly after Coco was discharged from the cardiovascular intensive care unit. “I can either spend my emotional energy at war with Medica, or I can let it go and just enjoy my time with my daughter.”

Medica spokesperson Greg Bury said he wouldn’t discuss the case, citing patient privacy rules. In an emailed statement, he wrote the company is “committed to working with her to ensure she understands what is covered under her benefits and our responsibilities.”

One of six specific promises all insurers made when they signed the pledge was to honor a 90-day grace period when patients switch insurance plans, starting Jan. 1 of this year. Often called “continuity of care,” this grace period allows patients to temporarily continue receiving services and medications that were authorized under a previous insurer.

But that applies only in some circumstances, Georgetown’s Corlette said. The wording of the pledge suggests that insurance companies aren’t obligated to honor another company’s network parameters. When Adler and Young switched insurers, for example, Medica was not obligated to cover the cost of out-of-network providers as if they were in-network, even though they were in-network under the family’s old plan.

Adler and Young switched insurance companies again when Coco was a month old, to avoid accruing more out-of-network costs.

Denial After Approval

The percentages cited by AHIP don’t tell the whole story, said Nix, the patient advocate. Insurers are “not including the data for the loopholes they create,” she said.

For example, nothing in the pledge prevents insurance companies from retroactively denying payment, even when care is preapproved. “Patients are going to see a lot more retroactive denials,” said Nix, who recently had her insurer process, then later deny, a claim for injections to relieve her nerve pain.

Something similar recently happened to Jocelyn Austin, 49, of Amherst, New York. Over the course of nearly 20 years, she developed an addiction to sleeping and anxiety pills prescribed to her by a doctor. Last year, she spent weeks at an inpatient treatment center for substance abuse. Her insurer, Independent Health, had approved the admission. Austin said she has been substance-free since her discharge.

But the facility sent her a bill for more than $12,000 in December showing her insurer had not paid for the treatment she received, according to documents Austin shared with ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ. This was in addition to the $10,000 she paid at the beginning of her treatment to satisfy her out-of-network deductible. The approval letters from Independent Health had specified that “authorization is not a guarantee of claim payment.”

Frank Sava, a spokesperson for Independent Health, said a denial was issued and upheld in this case because the services provided “were inconsistent with the care that was authorized” and “the medical record did not sufficiently support what was billed.” He said those findings were reviewed and confirmed by an outside consultant.

An explanation of benefits issued by the insurer last summer indicated the “provider,” not the patient, was responsible for the cost of her treatment. And yet the treatment facility has continued to pressure her for payment, she said.

Austin, who has not paid her outstanding bill, said insurance companies “should be held accountable.”

‘Significant Work Ahead’

Another one of the six commitments insurers made last year was to adopt new technology that would standardize the electronic submission of prior authorization requests. During the news conference announcing the pledge last summer, Chris Klomp, the director of Medicare and a deputy CMS administrator, said more than 50% of prior authorizations are still paper-based and processed by phone or fax machine.

In April, AHIP related to that technology initiative, explaining that participating insurers would adopt the new standards on a rolling basis. Health insurers agreed to implement the pledge’s various commitments by predetermined deadlines, and this initiative is scheduled to be operational by Jan. 1, 2027. But eight insurers that initially signed the pledge last year didn’t sign the technology update when it was announced in April, AHIP told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

Those insurers are Alignment Health Plan, EmblemHealth, HealthFirst, Independent Health, Medica, MVP Health Care, Point32Health, and SummaCare. Their beneficiaries span the country, from California to New York. None of those eight insurers agreed to interviews for this report, but most sent ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ emailed statements indicating that they remain committed to prior authorization reform.

AHIP’s approach to continuity of care “would have required the transfer of confidential member health information through a non-standardized process involving third-party participation,” wrote Jerry Slowey, a spokesperson for , which offers Medicare Advantage policies in Arizona, California, Nevada, North Carolina, and Texas. “We do not believe that level of data sharing was contemplated in the original commitment.”

Bury, the spokesperson for Medica, which covers beneficiaries in Iowa, Kansas, Minnesota, Missouri, Nebraska, North Dakota, Oklahoma, South Dakota, and Wisconsin, said the company “supports the goal of these standardization efforts.” But the April update “raised a significant technical and operational hurdle that we are not able to commit to at this time,” he said.

Alex Gomez, a spokesperson for EmblemHealth, said in late June the company “will sign onto the commitment” after ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ posed questions about why it had not endorsed the April update.

“We anticipate more plans will be added over the coming months,” said Bond, the AHIP spokesperson. Health plans are “working continuously to implement their commitments to simplify and improve the experience.” He acknowledged that “there is still significant work ahead.”

The original pledge also included a promise that insurance companies would enhance transparency and use “clear, easy-to-understand explanations” when communicating to patients — something they were already supposed to be doing under the Affordable Care Act.

Yet companies still regularly neglect to explain why care has been denied, and their communications often contain “inconsistent and contradictory information,” said Gartner, of Health Access Innovation. He and Murphy also said they suspect insurance companies are increasingly using artificial intelligence to generate denials.

“They craft the pathways to basically deny things immediately with the hope that people will give up,” Murphy said.

The congressman said he wishes President Donald Trump would sign executive orders addressing some of these issues. “The problem is the insurance industry is the strongest lobby in this town.”

Do you have an experience with prior authorization you’d like to share?  to tell ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ your story.

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

A Tragic, Deadly Denial

I read your article in The Washington Post about the woman whose Humana policy required prior authorization for a drug she’d been taking (Bill of the Month: “She Struggled To Get a Lifesaving Drug Even After Insurers Vowed To Help,” June 29).

My husband, Kenney, had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease. On June 7, he fatally shot himself after a COPD exacerbation event.

His pulmonologist had prescribed two new nebulizer prescriptions on June 2. One was a specialty medication that would come directly from the drug company. A couple of days later, we called Walgreens to see why the other one hadn’t been filled. Turns out it required prior authorization.

Why the doctor who prescribed it needed to tell his health insurer that he really did think his patient needed it, I will never understand. The pharmacist said she would send the request to the doctor. And why she hadn’t already done that, again, I do not understand. By June 7, of course, it still wasn’t filled.

That day, a Sunday, Kenney experienced the flare-up when I was out mowing the yard. How terrifying it must have been for him to be unable to breathe and me not being there at least to hold his hand. That night he killed himself, leaving a note saying that he hated to leave me but that he couldn’t keep living like that — with the constant anxiety of not knowing when he wouldn’t be able to draw a breath.

Not long ago, a “welcome” packet came in the mail about the other nebulizer treatment — 25 days after it had been prescribed.

Admittedly, my husband’s health was not great. He did have COPD, but we still went out to eat once in a while, and he didn’t have to take his oxygen on those trips. He rarely used it just walking around the house.

He did make a serious suicide attempt six years ago (our daughter and granddaughter had died), but after seeing what it did to me and our son, he promised he’d never do it again. It was only when these exacerbation/flare-up events started this year that he indicated life was getting bad.

Perhaps, just perhaps, if he had received both medications in a timely manner, he would be here today, and we would have had many more years together. We met when we were 16 and had been together ever since. He was 78 when he died.

— Cindy Clements Blewett; Kyle, Texas

Navigating GLP-1 Coverage

Sydney Lupkin’s thoughtful article about the obstacles in obtaining weight loss drugs was interesting (Healthcare Helpline: “Trouble Getting Weight Loss Drugs Covered by Insurance? Here’s What To Know,” June 26). It would have been more helpful had it included a discussion of Medicare’s decision to cover these drugs as of July 1, 2026, and how to navigate the rocky shores of obtaining a prescription that won’t be denied.

— Sharie Hartman; Manteca, California

Beyond the Veil of Pregnancy Centers

I would like to address the article about a pregnancy resource center providing prenatal care in Sandpoint, Idaho (“Religious Anti-Abortion Center Finds Opportunity in Town Without OB-GYNs,” May 20). It is unfortunate that many still do not understand what pregnancy resource centers do, nor the high-quality care they provide. While there are some “crisis pregnancy centers” that provide limited offerings, most centers are aligned with a national organization like the National Institute of Family and Life Advocates, the Heartbeat Pregnancy Center, or Care Net. All these organizations require centers to have a medical director (a licensed healthcare practitioner) and require that the nurses who perform the ultrasounds have appropriate training. While I am not affiliated with 7B Care Clinic, I am concerned that the article may not have accurately reflected what is provided in such clinics. I offer my experiences to bring further clarity.

I work at a life-affirming women’s clinic. I am a board-certified family physician. I have delivered approximately 1,000 babies in my career. I have been performing ultrasounds for my patients for over a decade, and fought for this ability under the scrutiny of maternal-fetal medicine specialists, spending time alongside their registered diagnostic medical sonographer technicians, and having my scans reviewed by maternal-fetal medicine physicians. I have practiced medicine in three states over three decades.

Second, while I am life-affirming, I am not “anti-abortion.” I happen to believe that there are better choices, and I know that some women will still choose abortion, even after hearing all their options. I will gladly see those women for follow-up to answer questions and evaluate for complications — something that the abortion clinics in my area apparently will not do. I say this because that is what the women I see tell me. The clinic that performed the procedure or gave them the pills will not see a patient after the abortion for any follow-up. I have always willingly seen patients for any reason, whether I was working at a private clinic or hospital-owned clinic. That is no different now that I work for a life-affirming women’s clinic.

We provide a variety of services — free of charge. We are also stepping up to provide prenatal care up to 20 weeks because there is a shortage of obstetrical clinicians in our county. We encourage women to see a clinic where they can be followed throughout the entire pregnancy, if possible, and we are in no way marketing ourselves as competition. We are stepping in to fill the large gap that exists.

Just because the clinic in Sandpoint chooses to respect life does not make it a fake clinic. This clinic seeks to bring in physicians to provide prenatal care. They are bringing in OB-GYNs from Washington state, which has no restrictions on abortion. With this information taken into consideration, I ask you to reconsider any concerns about a clinic bringing board-certified OB-GYNs into an area where there is a shortage.

— James Heid, Vancouver, Washington

The Root of All Good

The article Claudia Boyd-Barrett wrote about how immigrant parents’ arrests are creating a mental health crisis for children was moving and brought awareness to the mental health challenges faced by them (Growing Up Scared: “Arrests of Immigrant Parents Create Mental Health Crisis for Children,” June 18). It was important to note how every story was different but focused on how much children missed and yearned for their parents to come back home. You also wrote about how it affected them by not having a parental figure in the home. That really touched me. Specifically, Jacob’s story and when he listed all the things he missed about his mom but especially being close to her.

I am currently a master’s student in social work working to become a better ally to the Hispanic immigrant community. I’ve seen how being afraid and sad over the immigration policies has affected my friends in this community. Losing a close parent and not being able to have that security with them anymore is hard to go through, and trauma affects children as they grow.

In this article, you have recognized the worth of a person, which is a core principle in social work. These children are worthy and have the right to feel taken care of and secure.

I would love to see more mental health services accessible to immigrant communities and their families. This would benefit children as they learn to cope with their feelings and how to make sense of a new world.

— Stacy Xiong, Athens, Georgia

Bagging a Bargain

Author Susan Jaffe mentioned GoodRx in the article “Thousands of Medicare Beneficiaries Thought Their Drug Plan Was Free. Then They Lost It” (July 7), but she failed to mention a much better discount drug site, Mark Cuban’s costplusdrugs.com, where a 90-day supply of 2.5 milligrams of rivaroxaban, a generic for Xarelto, is available for under $50. This could help the thousands of people who lost coverage through unpaid premiums from Wellcare Value Script obtain their medications. The problem of yearly increasing penalties for losing Part D coverage is something that has to be addressed by the Centers for Medicare & Medicaid Services.

Thanks to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ for the relevant coverage.

— Jackie Button; Miami

Fleshing Out the Details

Your report identifying alpha-gal syndrome as a red meat allergy is accurate in that respect but inadequate in its breadth (“Would Hunters Take a Lyme Disease Vaccine? We Asked,” June 30). Alpha-gal is an allergic reaction to virtually all mammalian products. If you explore that, you’ll find an interesting story, as mammalian products are everywhere, including in pharmaceuticals, cosmetics, and other non-meat products. Alpha-gal is growing rapidly, and too many people, including doctors, do not realize that AGS is far worse than just a red meat allergy.

I suggest you help build understanding of the threat by describing the allergy in the future as an allergy to mammalian products. If you do not think your audience will understand that term, perhaps you can explain that it includes pork and anything derived from animals with hooves. As a former and now retired reporter, I encourage you to cover this allergy because its implications are surprising and scary.

— John Varner, Surry, Virginia

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

Céline Gounder, ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ editor-at-large for public health, discussed the health risks of consuming raw milk and an outbreak of infant botulism linked to recalled formula on CBS News’ CBS Mornings and CBS News 24/7’s The Daily Report on July 7. Gounder also discussed allegations about Health and Human Services Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr.’s oversight of the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention on CBS Mornings on July 6.

• .
• .
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³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ Georgia correspondent Briah Lumpkins discussed extreme heat in Georgia on WUGA’s The Georgia Health Report on July 3.

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³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ senior correspondent Aneri Pattani discussed strategically directing opioid settlement money to support long-term impact during the National League of Cities’ June 25 webinar “Sustaining the Work: Strategically Leveraging Opioid Settlement Funds.”

• .
• Read ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ’ ongoing series “Payback: Tracking the Opioid Settlement Cash.”

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

“REMOVE ME FROM YOUR LIST!!!! DO NOT EMAIL OR MAIL ME ANY MORE!

“It is because of your animal based pre-term artificial baby food crap that you peddle to hospital NICU’s that my son is dead from NEC.”

The mother was referring to neonatal intensive care units and necrotizing enterocolitis, an often fatal condition in which intestinal tissue can die and allow infection to spread through the body of an infant born prematurely.

In an internal memo, Mead Johnson cited its “extensive quality and safety checks” and concluded there was “not a reasonable possibility” that the formula caused the baby’s death. “No further investigation is needed. This file can be closed,” the memo said.

And with that decision, the company narrowed the chance that the mother’s anguish could draw attention to any danger the formula might pose to other infants.

The mother’s email and the company’s memo assessing it were used as evidence in the court cases and .

When doctors, hospitals, parents, or others alert manufacturers that babies got sick or died while receiving infant formula, what happens next is left largely to manufacturers such as Abbott Laboratories and Mead Johnson Nutrition, giants of the industry.

Mead Johnson’s handling of the mother’s email showed how that can play out.

Under , if a complaint about an infant formula — such as a report of an adverse event — shows a possible health hazard, the company must investigate.

But it doesn’t always have to inform the government agency that oversees the safety of infant formula.

A company must complete an investigation and notify the Food and Drug Administration within only if it finds “a reasonable possibility of a causal relationship between the consumption of an infant formula and an infant’s death.”

If that happened even once over more than a quarter century, the FDA could find no record of it, according to information obtained through public records requests.

‘Never Reported’

Under the Freedom of Information Act, ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ asked the FDA for all notifications that manufacturers of infant formula sent the agency per the regulatory requirement since Jan. 1, 2020. The agency’s Human Foods Program “did not receive any,” Kimberly Jones, a government information specialist at the FDA, responded in March.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ then asked the FDA to go back decades further — to Jan. 1, 2000. “After a diligent search of our files, we did not locate any responsive records,” Jones wrote on May 5.

The FDA’s search results were consistent with court testimony.

John Wallingford, a paid expert witness for Abbott, testified in a Missouri court in October 2024 that Abbott had under any regulation for preterm infant formula.

that he was not referring to adverse events in clinical trials, which are studies used for research and development and are subject to different procedures. Abbott informed the FDA about adverse events that occurred during a clinical trial, .

Christina Valentine testified in a 2024 deposition that she never sent the FDA a report of death from NEC during her seven years as Mead Johnson’s medical director for North America. In the deposition, used in the Whitfield case, she said she never concluded there was a reasonable possibility that an infant’s death from NEC might have been related to a Mead Johnson product.

As medical director for North America, she was responsible for signing off on those determinations, she testified in the Watson trial.

In the deposition, Valentine said she wasn’t sure whether anyone else at the company sent a death report to the FDA.

In late May and mid-June, Mead Johnson spokesperson Jen O’Neill added to the picture.

“Where there is a physician report that includes an opinion that one of our products caused NEC in a preterm infant, we have treated that as a ‘reasonable possibility of a causal relationship,’ and we submitted an adverse event report to the FDA,” she wrote.

“These physician reports were generally made by plaintiffs’ paid experts, with which we disagree,” she wrote.

O’Neill left unclear whether events Mead Johnson reported to the FDA were raised in lawsuits and, if so, whether the company reported them to the FDA before they surfaced in litigation.

Asked repeatedly when Mead Johnson filed the reports, O’Neill didn’t say.

It’s unclear why the FDA found no record of them.

Nor would O’Neill say whether the company submitted one related to the distraught mother’s September 2016 complaint.

That mother’s name wasn’t publicly disclosed in the court record containing her complaint.

“[P]rior to the current litigation, we received very few reports relating to our products and NEC and even fewer for which our investigation uncovered any evidence supporting a reasonable possibility of a causal relationship,” O’Neill wrote.

Industry personnel have reacted to some complaints with circular reasoning, as shown by court records from the Watson, Whitfield, and cases. Company personnel didn’t think their products caused harm, and they didn’t view new cases as evidence of harm, records show.

‘Reprehensible’ Conduct

About 2,300 newborns died of necrotizing enterocolitis in the United States from 2017 through 2023, the equivalent of almost , according to a ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ analysis of a for those years. The database doesn’t attempt to explain what caused those babies to develop NEC, and it doesn’t count babies who survived NEC.

A wave of lawsuits has alleged that infant formula made by Abbott or Mead Johnson harmed or killed preterm babies by causing or contributing to cases of NEC. As of late January, 1,760 NEC lawsuits were pending against Abbott, company spokesperson Scott Stoffel said, clarifying a disclosure in a .

This article is based largely on transcripts, deposition videos, and exhibits from three court cases that went to trial in 2024. The lawsuits were filed by parents of babies who suffered or died from NEC.

Abbott and Mead Johnson have denied fault. They, along with various medical authorities including and the , have said that, when nutritional needs can’t be met with human milk, formula is vital.

One of the cases, , led to a against Mead Johnson. , Gill v. Abbott, led to a against Abbott. , Whitfield v. St. Louis Children’s Hospital, et al., led to a jury verdict in favor of Abbott and Mead Johnson, but the judge found errors and misconduct on the part of defense counsel, faulted his own performance, and .

The judge’s ruling in the Whitfield case is on appeal.

On May 5, a Missouri appeals court against Abbott, saying “we find Abbott’s conduct significantly reprehensible.”

“Throughout the trial, the jury heard evidence that Abbott knew its formula posed significant risks to preterm infants weighing under 1500g yet made little effort to mitigate that risk,” the court wrote.

On June 12, an Illinois appeals court against Mead Johnson and sent the case back for a new trial. The trial court risked prejudicing the jury by improperly admitting evidence about Mead Johnson’s finances, including its revenues, profits, and executive compensation, the appeals court said.

In addition, the trial judge gave the jury erroneous instructions, the appeals court ruled. Any negligence on Mead Johnson’s part hinged on a failure to warn, and the company’s duty was not to warn the mother in that case of any danger, as she had claimed, but rather to warn doctors, the appeals court ruled.

In April, after another trial, a jury in Chicago ordered Abbott to pay four plaintiffs a total of $70 million. Abbott is contesting that verdict and the Missouri appeals court’s decision.

In at least four cases, judges have in favor of Abbott — ruling for the company before the lawsuits reached trial.

‘Branding NICU Babies’

Abbott makes Similac products, and Mead Johnson makes the Enfamil line.

The two companies have vied to place their products in neonatal intensive care units, which serve as entry points to hospital contracts and the retail market, ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ reported in a March article based largely on records from court cases.

For instance, a Mead Johnson slide deck for a 2020 national sales meeting — later used in the Whitfield trial — outlined a plan for “Branding NICU Babies.”

The litigation opened a wider window into the business and regulation of infant formula, including adverse event reports.

“Abbott complies with all applicable FDA regulations on adverse event reporting, including by keeping detailed records of every single complaint/adverse event report Abbott receives and investigating NEC complaints,” Stoffel said in November. “FDA routinely conducts audits that include Abbott’s adverse event investigations and reporting as part of its active regulation of infant nutrition.”

Mead Johnson’s O’Neill echoed that.

“Our adverse event reporting complies with all applicable regulatory requirements,” O’Neill said in a November statement to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ. “The FDA audits Mead Johnson on an annual basis and has never identified any issue about our approach to reporting.”

The reports the company filed with the FDA were submitted through the agency’s regional office in Detroit, she said.

It’s unclear whether the FDA looked in Detroit.

FDA rules require manufacturers to send written confirmations in the Washington area that oversees infant formula and other foods.

Asked if the company sent them to that office, O’Neill did not answer.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ requested an interview with Mead Johnson to clarify its statements about how it handled adverse event reports. The company did not grant one.

Plaintiffs have used internal documents from the companies to allege that, in house, people have long recognized a correlation between NEC and the use of preterm formulas made from cow’s milk.

For example, in a 2010 research proposal shown in a deposition used in the Gill case, Abbott scientists wrote that NEC “is the most severe GI complication of prematurity and the use of bovine milk-based fortifiers and formulas are believed to be the primary risk factor.”

A Mead Johnson document used in the Whitfield lawsuit cited “80% necrotizing enterocolitis (NEC) risk reduction when human milk is used in place of formula.”

Abbott that correlation does not equal causation.

“Numerous studies and NEC authorities have made clear that preterm infant formula does not cause NEC; it’s the absence of human milk that increases NEC risk rather than anything harmful in formula,” Abbott spokesperson Stoffel said.

The FDA, the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, and the National Institutes of Health weighed in with a in October 2024, saying, “There is no conclusive evidence that preterm infant formula causes NEC” and “there is strong evidence that human milk is protective against NEC.”

Mead Johnson’s O’Neill said the scientific consensus is that there is no established causal link between the use of specialized preterm hospital nutrition products and NEC.

O’Neill cited a statement by the saying the causes of NEC “are multifaceted and not completely understood.”

In a legal brief filed with an Illinois appeals court in the Watson case, the company said “the NEC related risks” of a formula for preterm infants “are the subject of medical debate.”

Managing Potential Warnings

Court records from lawsuits shed light on how the manufacturers have managed potential warnings from the field.

Fabrizis Suarez, who was director of medical safety and surveillance at Abbott from 2006 to 2023, said in a January 2024 deposition used in the Gill and Whitfield cases that he knew of no instance in which Abbott notified the FDA that a baby had died of NEC that could have been caused by Abbott’s formula for preterm infants.

There were numerous cases in which healthcare providers told Abbott they believed the formula caused the NEC, but Abbott disagreed every time, Suarez testified.

Abbott tracks and reviews every NEC report it receives and looks for patterns, Suarez testified.

Courtney Colombo, who identified herself in a March 2024 deposition used in the Gill and Whitfield cases as director of postmarketing medical safety and surveillance at Abbott, likewise testified that she knew of no instance in which Abbott reported to any regulatory authority anywhere in the world that one of its preterm infant formulas was possibly related to a death caused by NEC.

Abbott from the FDA, according to testimony from Wallingford, a paid expert witness on regulatory matters who spent 10 years at the FDA. The complaints were in company files FDA inspectors reviewed during annual inspections, he said in the Whitfield case.

Wallingford also testified that inspections are for reporting infant deaths.

Questioning Wallingford in court, plaintiff’s lawyer Kevin Carnie Jr. invoked the cliché about the .

Wallingford declined to comment for this article. Valentine and Colombo did not respond to messages sent via LinkedIn. Valentine and Suarez did not respond to letters mailed to addresses that appeared to be associated with them. A letter to Colombo with signature required, sent to an address apparently associated with her, was returned unopened.

Not Publicly Reported

Adverse event reports can prompt the FDA to take action to protect the public.

For example, in 2011, the parents, caregivers, and healthcare providers not to feed SimplyThick, a thickening gel, to premature infants fitting a particular profile. The product, used to manage swallowing difficulties, might cause NEC, the FDA said.

The FDA first learned about possible problems with SimplyThick from physicians, according to an FDA document that an attorney for Abbott, Sierra Elizabeth, read from during the Whitfield trial.

The stakes for companies and consumers are high.

A finding under the “reasonable possibility” standard could trigger a product recall, said Martin Hahn, a regulatory attorney for Mead Johnson.

The FDA’s handling of adverse event reports for infant formulas — and fortifiers, which are used to nutritionally supplement a mother’s milk when babies are born prematurely — contrasts with its handling of reports about drugs and medical devices.

The FDA posts manufacturers’ adverse event reports on and online in databases available to the public.

But the notifications manufacturers are required to submit about formulas and fortifiers are not publicly reported, said Emily Hilliard, a spokesperson for the Department of Health and Human Services, which includes the FDA.

In addition, the FDA’s reporting requirements for drugs and medical devices are, in key ways, more demanding than those for infant formula.

Device makers not just deaths but also “serious injuries” that the product “may have caused or contributed to.”

Drugmakers are required to report any “” adverse event, “.” That fatal or life-threatening events.

The FDA also maintains a about dietary supplements, foods, and infant formulas, among other products, that includes from consumers and healthcare practitioners.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ searched that database and found one death report that mentioned NEC and a formula made for premature or low-birth-weight babies.

The search turned up seven other reports of infant deaths that mentioned NEC and fortifiers designed for premature or low-birth-weight babies. One of those reports, obtained by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ through the Freedom of Information Act, said three preterm babies at the same hospital had NEC and died within a month of one another in 2024.

The FDA cautions that reports are not verified and do not prove causation.

A former attorney for Abbott now leads the FDA.

Before becoming the FDA’s last year and being named acting head of the agency in May, Kyle Diamantas in the and lawsuits, court records show.

Diamantas “complies with all applicable ethics laws and regulations,” said Hilliard, the HHS spokesperson. “That included a specific recusal related to Abbott Laboratories, which concluded in January 2026.”

“During that period, Mr. Diamantas voluntarily recused himself from all matters involving infant formula to avoid any appearance of partiality,” Hilliard said.

‘No Health Hazard’

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ asked the FDA a series of questions for this article. The agency left many unanswered.

“Infant formula safety is a top priority of the FDA given the vulnerability of the intended population,” Hilliard said.

³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ asked Abbott and Mead Johnson for data on all infant death reports the companies received and those they forwarded to the FDA. Neither company provided that information.

Court records provide fragmentary data.

Abbott lawyer Elizabeth said in court that, before Wallingford took the stand as an expert witness, the company gave him from 2005 through 2022 that contained the search term “NEC.”

When Wallingford went through the files, he found that mentioned death and NEC, he testified.

If Similac Special Care products for preterm infants were a problem, and if only 1% of adverse events led to a report, “you would expect to see of complaints,” Wallingford testified.

In 2010, a registered dietitian at a Cincinnati hospital notified Abbott that three babies had died of NEC shortly after starting on an Abbott formula. The dietitian thought there might be a correlation, according to an internal Abbott summary of the complaint shown during Colombo’s deposition. The babies, who were about 17 days old, had no complications other than prematurity, the summary said.

After reviewing the complaint, Abbott’s Colombo wrote, as shown in a deposition video, that she found “NO OTHER REPORTS OF DEATH AND NO TRENDS FOR NEC REPORTED BY OTHER FACILITIES ASSOCIATED WITH THIS STOCK CODE.”

“PREVIOUS COMPLAINT HISTORY INDICATES NO HEALTH HAZARD,” she concluded.

As for Mead Johnson, Valentine “testified that NEC was not one of the top adverse event complaints for Enfamil premature formulas of the 68 received between 2015-2019,” O’Neill, the company spokesperson, told ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

Valentine — who was Mead Johnson Nutrition’s medical director for North America from 2014 to 2021 and parent company Reckitt’s chief medical officer from 2022 to 2023, according to a LinkedIn profile — signed off on the decision to close the 2016 file on the distraught mother’s complaint, according to an exhibit and her deposition testimony played in the Whitfield trial.

When she signed off, Mead Johnson didn’t know which of its products the complaint involved, Valentine said in the deposition.

Asked about it during the Watson trial in February 2024, Valentine testified that, in light of the mother’s request never to contact her again, it wouldn’t have been appropriate to call her back for more information.

Valentine “testified that she believes that the Mead Johnson complaint team appropriately investigated reports of death from NEC based on the information provided,” Mead Johnson’s O’Neill said.

Valentine also testified that the FDA encourages infant formula companies to send in all adverse event reports and that nothing prevented Mead Johnson from doing so.

As reflected in an email thread used in the Watson case, Valentine reacted skeptically in 2019 when a colleague told her a particular hospital wanted to exit its contract with Mead Johnson.

“They had 3 cases of NEC since they started using our formulas. They had 0 cases when they were with Abbott,” the colleague reported.

Valentine agreed to follow up but added: “Sad but please reassure them we are not seeing this with our formula … so no science basis for sure.”

Share your story with us: Do you have experience with necrotizing enterocolitis (NEC) or infant formula that you’d like to share? We’d like to hear from you. Click here to contact the ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ reporting team.

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

We’re expecting our first baby boy in end of August. And when I think about what it’s going to feel like to take care of my wife and my new son and my mom, it’s a bit overwhelming.

If you are taking care of a child and you have a parent over 65, you’re among millions across the U.S. in the same life stage.

Nearly a quarter of all American adults — and half of all adults in their 40s — fall into this “sandwich generation” category, . And being in the middle of that sandwich can feel … intense.

“I have kind of prided myself on being self-sufficient. And in this season of life, that’s almost been laughable,” said Jason McAnally, a Nashville father of two who helps care for his aging dad.

HealthQ hosts Cara Anthony of ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and Blake Farmer of Nashville Public Radio, both in the sandwich generation themselves, are your approachable guides to an unapproachable healthcare system. In this one-hour special about navigating health and caregiving, they tap researchers, physicians, experts, and their own personal experience to explore:

• Identity: When to start calling yourself a caregiver, and why it matters.
• FMLA: How to start a conversation with your boss about taking federally protected leave from work.
• Kids and mental health: How to know it’s time to take an anxious child to therapy.
• Early-onset cancer: What you need to know about spotting diseases that are on the rise among people under 50.

The HealthQ team acknowledges the messiness, the humor, and the beauty of this season of life. Come on the journey with us.

Can’t see the audio player? Visit kffhealthnews.org to listen.

This installment is part of HealthQ’s reporting on caregiving among the sandwich generation. For more, check out the series archive.

HealthQ is a health series from reporters Cara Anthony and Blake Farmer, approachable guides to an unapproachable healthcare system. It’s a collaboration between Nashville Public Radio and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

If you or someone you know may be experiencing a mental health crisis, contact the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline by dialing or texting “988.”

QUINCY, Calif. — When Taletha Washburn and the staff at Plumas Charter School first heard that California wanted to help schools treat more kids struggling with mental health, it felt like a well-timed remedy for a rural community where families struggle to find care.

Getting the program funding up and running, however, has proved difficult.

Employees spent two years “spinning our wheels,” attending state-led webinars, filling out countless forms, and researching electronic health record systems to prepare, said Washburn, the school’s executive director. When they reached out for assistance, she said, they waited months for a state response.

The school received its first reimbursement check in April. Washburn said the school has been reimbursed $8,000 and has at least $12,000 in outstanding claims. For a program Washburn had thought could be a game changer in her small rural town, it’s been a disappointing bust.

Plumas Charter is among roughly 1,000 public schools, community colleges, and universities that participate in Gov. Gavin Newsom’s first-in-the-nation initiative requiring that health insurance companies reimburse them for on-campus behavioral healthcare. California schools have been adding counselors, therapists, and psychiatrists to provide services where young people spend most of their time, making mental health treatment more accessible to kids whose families might have spent months waiting to see private therapists.

Five years after the program’s launch, Washburn and other California school officials say they have encountered a rollout fraught with inadequate guidance from the state, an incomplete billing infrastructure, a lack of standardized forms, and persistent delays signing up and getting paid. More than half of California’s school systems and colleges don’t participate in the billing program. Of those that do, fewer than one-fifth as of June 1, according to the latest state data.

The program hasn’t come close to bringing in the half-billion dollars in promised revenue to cover the salaries of thousands of counselors, therapists, and wellness coaches, many of whom school districts hired with a deluge of federal covid pandemic funding. As a result, schools across California have issued amid local budget cuts.

“One of the things that makes people hate government is when we make a promise and then we struggle to keep that promise because we can’t get the administrative part of it up and running,” said state lawmaker Dawn Addis, a former special education teacher and Democrat who has criticized the program’s slow implementation.

Newsom’s office declined to make the governor available for an interview for this article. At a May press conference to release his final state budget proposal, the Democratic governor pointed to the “unprecedented” initiative, saying “no other state in the nation has done more.”

“We have a lot more work to do to deal with the crisis of our time,” Newsom said. “Making investments in wellness, not just physical health, but mental health for our kids, is a good investment.”

He did not answer when asked whether he considered the program a success.

Tom Insel, the former head of the National Institute of Mental Health, who has advised Newsom, said the rocky rollout, in many ways, reflects the groundbreaking nature of what California is trying to do. Still, given the level of investment so far, he too had expected clearer evidence of dramatic improvement.

“What we struggle with in California is: We spend the money, but we don’t always see the outcomes. It’s sobering to realize, especially as an advocate, that you could actually get the programs, get the money, get everything that you want from the policy side, but the execution just isn’t there.”

A First-in-the-Nation Plan?

In 2021, 1 in 10 high school students nationwide said they’d attempted suicide, by then the second-leading cause of death for young people ages 10 to 24.

In response, Newsom announced a “Master Plan for Kids’ Mental Health,” promising an overhaul of California’s behavioral health system that he said would be transformative. National mental health experts said Newsom’s initiative was the most ambitious attempt of any state to tackle a youth mental health crisis that had metastasized during the pandemic.

The state funneled $730 million in one-time funding into workforce efforts, such as campaigns to recruit mental health workers and programs to repay student loans. An additional $220 million has gone to facilitate partnerships between local governments and school officials, and $381 million was distributed in grants to schools and community groups for facilities or services, according to an analysis of program funding by ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

The state has spent roughly $532 million to date on digital apps designed to connect families with counseling and provide a consultation service for primary care physicians handling behavioral health issues outside their expertise, while an additional $232 million has gone toward state operations and program evaluations.

And the state has added 1,855 school counselors since 2021, according to statistics from the American School Counselor Association, which in recent years has integrated mental health into professional standards. That’s well below the 10,000 Newsom had pledged by the end of this year as part of his initiative.

The of Newsom’s Children and Youth Behavioral Health Initiative focused on schools and was designed to increase behavioral health services on campus — at no cost to families. Schools would be able to bill health insurers, who would be required to reimburse them.

Some $1.3 billion — nearly a third of the total investment — has gone toward setting up campus wellness centers, new billing infrastructure, and beefing up school-based mental health support in other ways.

Filing claims became an administrative nightmare for schools unfamiliar with the complex world of medical billing.

In February 2025, when the Fresno County Office of Education launched its medical billing, it felt “like building the plane while flying it,” Trina Frazier, assistant superintendent of student services, told lawmakers in a public hearing a couple of months later. The delays were so acute that lawmakers last year authorized $20 million in grants to Fresno and 170 other school systems so they wouldn’t have to lay off newly hired mental health staffers while waiting for reimbursements.

Anaheim Elementary School District in Orange County, which state officials called a “champion” of the program, has recouped more than $1.1 million since its 23 campuses began billing student insurance in February 2025, said program specialist Shirley Diaz.

Still, that accounts for less than 30% of the behavioral health services the district has provided to students over that time. It’s not just the complexity of medical billing that has hampered the claims process. Parents have also been reluctant to provide health insurance information in the largely Latino district, where residents have been fearful of immigration raids carried out by the Trump administration.

To help administer claims across California, the state signed a $65 million contract with Carelon Behavioral Health, a service , one of the nation’s largest health insurers. But schools have struggled to get claims cleared, and many have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars to troubleshoot and bill claims.

As of June 1, the Boston-based administrator has approved about 232,100 claims totaling more than $11.3 million to 186 school districts and educational agencies, according to the Department of Health Care Services.

That’s a small fraction of the thousands of entities the state had hoped would participate and far from the $500 million a year state officials told schools the program could eventually provide for school-based mental health services.

“We probably were given the impression that this was going to happen more quickly and now there’s this reality of a kind of slow growth,” said Amy Blackshaw, behavioral health project director for the California School-Based Health Alliance.

Carelon contract manager Christina Kim declined to comment to ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and referred questions to the state. Autumn Boylan, deputy director of the Office of Strategic Partnerships at DHCS, said staff members incorporated early feedback from school districts and extended claim deadlines, loosened onboarding requirements, and hosted webinars and office hours. But changes of this magnitude, she said, take time.

“We’re trying to help the school districts increase their scale,” Boylan told lawmakers at a May 4 hearing. “It’s not a problem of claims being submitted and not paid. It’s a problem of claims not yet being submitted for payment.”

Boylan noted the volume of reimbursements has increased exponentially since the first claims were filed in November 2024.

Meanwhile, children and youths continue to struggle and have trouble accessing care. In 2024, nearly ages 12-17, for example, reported delaying or skipping mental healthcare because they couldn’t get an appointment, while 1 in 4 teens said they did so because of cost, up from roughly 6.5% the previous year, according to data from the California Health Interview Survey.

The share of young adults 18-24 who reported ever seriously considering suicide has stabilized but remains higher than pre-pandemic, according to the annual survey, conducted by the UCLA Center for Health Policy Research.

And while the suicide rate among Californians ages 12-25 has dropped from its high in 2021, this mirrors national trends, and state rates for female and Black youths increased from 2023 to 2024. “We have to have high expectations that when we invest in the magnitude of billions as this program did, we would have results to show,” said Assembly member David Alvarez, a Democrat in San Diego.

Other states have taken note of California’s implementation difficulties, some adopting a few strategies rather than the dozens California chose to roll out at once, said Sharon Hoover, formerly the co-director of the National Center for School Mental Health at the University of Maryland. Illinois, for instance, has focused on universal mental health screenings for schoolchildren while Colorado has expanded coverage of some behavioral health services for youths who lack a formal diagnosis.

“It’s always hard to be first, and someone has to be brave enough and hopeful enough to take that leap,” Hoover said.

Launching its reimbursement program before billing infrastructure was in place, Hoover said, created momentum but also posed challenges to school districts and providers. Still, she added, Newsom’s focus on prevention and early intervention became one of the biggest national policy shifts in years.

“We’re going to look back on this thinking it was one of the most progressive actions in the history of public systems,” said Alex Briscoe, a principal at the nonprofit Public Works Alliance who has pushed for system reform in kids’ mental health. “We spent a significant amount of money preparing for it. I just don’t think we did that very well or strategically.”

Rural Schools Struggle Most

Students at Plumas Charter School had endured a relentless wave of trauma by fall 2021. Wildfires, covid shutdowns, and, weeks into the school year, a car accident that killed a classmate and left two others severely injured. Teachers saw signs of depression, anxiety, and frequent outbursts among their K-12 students. Nine kids that year reported considering suicide, an all-time high.

So, the school hired a full-time therapist and wellness coach with temporary federal funds.

Senior Will Coelho wasn’t there for any of it, but by the time he arrived in the remote California logging town of Quincy a year later, he’d been through plenty of his own loss.

Days before the pandemic lockdowns, a friend had died in a . Isolated at home, Coelho struggled to process his grief, he said. That year, his stepfather became increasingly violent and, after a bitter, years-long custody fight, Coelho left the Central Valley to move in with his dad in the remote town in Northern California, just weeks before starting high school.

One day, he found himself chatting with a faculty adviser, the new kid half-joking about therapy. At her suggestion, Coelho started seeing the school therapist weekly, on campus and free of charge.

“It has had a large impact on the way I process emotions and my outlook on life,” he said.

Behind the scenes, school officials struggled with how they would continue to cover the therapist’s salary.

Twice, the state rejected the school’s application to the state’s landmark billing program, telling school officials they hadn’t met all the requirements, such as having sufficient systems to bill private insurers and collect student insurance information.

When school staffers flagged difficulties filing claims online, Washburn added, state officials suggested they submit paper claims instead.

The experience has soured Washburn and her staff on the program, which she said doesn’t work for small rural districts like hers where the human resources director is also the office business manager, and the faculty member who manages discipline also teaches PE.

DHCS spokesperson Tony Cava said that many charter schools are small and wouldn’t be expected to participate. While charter schools make up about half of eligible entities, Cava said, they serve only 12% of California’s students.

Lawmakers who represent small, rural districts have argued the program should be able to serve all kids. Early this year, Addis proposed legislation that would give intensive technical help to school officials who need it.

Even if it passes, it may be too late to help Plumas Charter. Washburn is unsure her school will reap enough revenue to pay for their therapist. “In theory, this should be a good program,” Washburn said. “We’re too small, and our funds are too limited to just keep waiting.”

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“OK, cool,” his mother, J, remembered saying. (J asked to be identified by only her first initial, and Bug by his nickname, because the family fears harassment.)

“‘What do you need to be supported?’” she recalled asking next. “He asked to get healthcare.” 

This was the kind of moment J had been anticipating since the family had moved earlier that year from Texas to Massachusetts, for its more liberal and inclusive politics. She felt confident they could find the right medical experts. But she hadn’t realized that access to gender-affirming treatment could disappear even when their state’s laws and leaders supported it.

Individual hospitals all over the U.S., in red and blue states, have responded to President Donald Trump’s attacks on transgender healthcare by deciding to withdraw care on their own. At least did so in the first months of the Trump administration as it threatened to pull back federal funding or initiate fraud or wrongful-claim investigations, and such services have continued to drop off since.

Bug and his younger sister were born in Austin, Texas, but J and her husband became worried after the state outlawed abortion; dismantled diversity, equity, and inclusion programs; and limited medical and civil rights for queer and transgender people. The parents worried the support services they needed for the siblings, both of whom have autism, might be affected, too.

“I had a fear of being like the frog in the boiling water and not realizing what was happening until it was too late,” J said. “I needed to get the kids out of Texas.”

So when Bug came out as trans, J was relieved they’d landed in a state that not only has a to who offer but also is requiring commercial insurance, which Bug’s family has, to cover it.

After Bug’s gender announcement, J’s queries led her to the largest hospital system in the region, Springfield, Massachusetts-based , where they began the months-long process of getting set up to start hormone therapy.

Bug, an artistic 14-year-old who loves horses, cats, and making short films with friends, was too old for , but he was excited about the prospect of starting on testosterone. That would cause his voice to deepen, facial hair to grow, and muscles to get bigger.

“Every part of it sounds fun,” he said.

But this past February, two weeks before Bug was scheduled to start testosterone, Baystate announced it would no longer provide gender-affirming medications to minors, offering only counseling. A letter to patients’ families did not explain why.

Baystate spokesperson Heather Duggan sent a statement that said the decision to end treatment for minors reflected the fact that Baystate could lose “hundreds of millions of dollars in government reimbursement” as a result of the Trump administration’s plans. “Nearly 70 percent of Baystate Health’s patients rely on Medicaid and Medicare for coverage,” it said.

All Bug knew was that the care he’d eagerly awaited was about to vanish.

“I felt frustrated that they would do that,” Bug said.

“I bet there’s tons and tons of kids who are like: ‘OK, I’m going for trans-affirming healthcare. Yay!’” he said. “And then, like, tons and tons of kids were disappointed and sad and frustrated.”

J said it felt as if the floor had fallen out from under them. “Maybe this is naive, but I didn’t think that would happen in Massachusetts,” she said.

Baystate is among the providers still choosing not to offer puberty blockers and hormones as the issue wends its way through the courts. This spring, in , a federal judge concluded that it was unlawful for the Department of Health and Human Services to threaten federal funding for providers that offered gender-affirming care to minors. In June, another federal judge cleared 16 states, including Massachusetts, with another lawsuit against the administration over its push to criminalize gender-affirming care.

The American Academy of Pediatrics declined an interview request but said in a that young patients and their families should make decisions about gender-affirming care with their doctors, “delivered with compassion, and offered without political interference.”

One mother of a former Baystate patient said that before her child came out as a transgender girl, she had been severely depressed, battling suicidal thoughts. (The mother asked that only her first initial, L, be used, because the family also fears harassment.)

After Baystate doctors prescribed puberty blockers and estrogen, her daughter’s mood and grades rose markedly, L said. So when she received the letter announcing Baystate was ending the medical treatment, she was furious. L said she and other parents filed civil rights complaints with the Massachusetts attorney general.

The attorney general’s office did not respond to a request for comment.

“There’s a sense of, ‘How could you?’” L said. “And there’s also the awareness of the impact just pulling care could have on a youth — from a physical health perspective but also from a mental health perspective.”

L and J both found alternatives for their children. L asked the family’s primary care doctor to take over hormone prescriptions. Bug’s family was referred to in Northampton, Massachusetts, that said it has taken on about 50 of Baystate’s former patients.

“Transhealth has been staffing ourselves up for a while now in anticipation of the fact that this may be happening across the state,” said.

Erwin said Transhealth can weather the funding threats because the clinic gets large private donations and is not as dependent on Medicaid and Medicare as most hospitals. But Erwin said that doesn’t entirely reassure the broader LGBTQ+ community, including transgender adults.

“When you see something like that go down, people get scared that it’s ultimately going to happen to everyone,” Erwin said.

In May, Colorado’s Supreme Court in that state to resume medical treatments for transgender youths, while in Texas compelled a children’s hospital there to do the opposite — start the nation’s first “detransition clinic.” The Trump administration has continued to pressure providers, including by of transgender minors.

After Bug’s false start at Baystate, he was able to start taking testosterone at the new clinic in the spring.

His mother, J, said that the treatment is going smoothly and that Bug has learned how to give himself the injections. But J is nervous that the federal government will find other ways to stop his treatment again. She sometimes second-guesses the family’s move from Texas to Massachusetts, wondering whether they should have gone to Canada instead.

This article is from a partnership that includes , , and ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ.

This article first appeared on ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ and is republished here under a .

His aunt sat at the dining table, sobbing. His father, who’d walked him to the bus stop that morning and promised to take him to dinner when he got back, wasn’t there.

Saúl Zermeño, a 45-year-old single dad, had gone to a routine check-in appointment at an Immigration and Customs Enforcement office that morning, a requirement he’d complied with for years. The father had deferred action that allowed him to stay and work in the U.S., according to his attorney. But that day, Oct. 3, officers deported him to Mexico, where he hadn’t lived since he was 9 years old. Zermeño had been Damian’s sole caregiver since he was a baby because his mother chose not to be involved in the boy’s life, the family said.

Suddenly, Damian, who was born in the U.S., found himself separated from his father by thousands of miles and a heavily guarded border. The previously cheerful 10th grader, who doesn’t have a driver’s license and can make a few basic dishes but isn’t used to cooking for himself, faced navigating his teenage years alone, his dad’s presence reduced to a two-dimensional image on his phone.

“I thought it wasn’t true,” Damian said. “I just went to my room. I didn’t want to leave. I didn’t even want to eat.”

Damian is among an estimated , most of them U.S. citizens, separated from a parent by the Trump administration’s deportation policies. Their mothers and fathers have been deported or locked for months inside detention centers, often from where their families live. These children are separated, , from the adults they depend on. Parents have been arrested while , , and at immigration check-ins with their children present. Most people detained have . (Being in the U.S. without authorization is typically a civil offense). With their parents gone, kids’ lives are plunged into fear and uncertainty.

As a result, a generation of children from immigrant families are exhibiting mental health problems that could .

Parents, therapists, and others who work with immigrant families said they’ve already encountered preschoolers with speech delays, elementary school children who talk of suicide, and teenagers too anxious to leave the house. Research has shown repeatedly that separating children from their parents . The stress of losing a primary caregiver creates havoc in a child’s brain and body, increasing their risk for mental and physical health problems, including depression, anxiety, post-traumatic stress disorder, a weakened immune system, and developmental delays.

“You can just see it in their faces; it’s almost like the light has been dimmed in their eyes,” said the Rev. Tanya Lopez, a pastor at Downey Memorial Christian Church who regularly visits immigrant families as part of a made up of Los Angeles-area religious leaders.

The health risks from this stress response are long-term. People who experience parental separation and other traumatic events as children are heart disease, diabetes, cancer, and other chronic conditions as adults.

In a statement, the Department of Homeland Security said ICE does not separate families, and that parents are asked if they want to be removed from the country with their children or to designate a safe person for them to stay with in the U.S.

However, by the Women’s Refugee Commission and Physicians for Human Rights found that many parents aren’t given that choice, and that ICE often doesn’t ask detainees if they have children or take steps to ensure that children left behind are safe. Saúl Zermeño said ICE officers didn’t ask about his son or check on Damian’s well-being when he was deported.

For days after his father’s deportation, Damian didn’t want to leave his room, eat, or go to school. He stopped talking to his friends. He stopped playing his favorite video game, Fears To Fathom. When he returned to school a week later, the teenager would cry in class or walk out overwhelmed with sadness. Even his favorite subject — English — lost its appeal.

Damian and his father were inseparable; family members joked that they never saw one without the other. Zermeño took Damian, who has attention-deficit/hyperactivity disorder, autism, and other health conditions, to his medical appointments. He cooked for him and combed his hair. He loved to take Damian to his favorite Thai restaurant or to get boba drinks after school. As much as they joked around and played pranks on each other, Zermeño also taught Damian the importance of work by bringing him along to construction jobs and to find supplies at Home Depot.

Damian used to get annoyed with his father’s motivational chats about responsibility. Now they’re one of the things he misses most.

“I thank my dad every day for teaching me to be strong before he left,” Damian said.

Elsewhere in Los Angeles, Jacob, a shy 9-year-old with cropped, curly hair, skinny limbs, and a serious expression, was missing his mom. On a Saturday in May, he clung tightly to his father’s hand as they walked among homeless people, street peddlers, and the stench of urine that hangs in the air outside the building where they live in a cramped apartment. He hoped his mom would soon be released from immigration detention so that he could hug her again.

“If my mom was here, I’d be happy,” he said. “Right now, I’m not.”

Jacob is in some ways a typical 9-year-old. He likes playing Roblox and Street Fighter. He dreams of becoming a police officer and of owning a guard dog, “because you can train them and they defend you.”

But he also endured a harrowing journey, even before being separated from his mom in January. Jacob’s family fled their home country of Colombia in 2024 because members of a paramilitary group threatened to kill them, his father, Andreis, said. During their journey to the United States, Jacob saw dead bodies while trekking through the jungle, was kidnapped and robbed at gunpoint with his parents, witnessed a rape, and had to sell candy and beg for money, his dad said. ³Ô¹Ï²»´òìÈ is not using the father’s or son’s real name because the family fears it would jeopardize their asylum cases.

After the family arrived in Los Angeles, Jacob suffered from nightmares and an intense fear of being alone. He started to recover once he began attending school and got connected to therapy through the school district, his dad said. For a short while, the family felt they had found peace.

Then, immigration officers detained Jacob’s mother at a check-in appointment while he and Andreis sat in the waiting room. The mother has a pending asylum application and no criminal record, Andreis said. The father said he and his son broke down when officers informed them of his wife’s detention, handing them a bag with her wallet and cellphone. They returned home without her, leaving Jacob inconsolable.

“He was terrified,” the father said, fighting back tears, his voice growing quiet as he recounted that moment. “He was crying with rage.”

After that, Jacob didn’t want to eat or go to school. When he went to school at his dad’s insistence, his teacher called home to ask why he was crying in class. Jacob couldn’t sleep. He acted out. He blamed his dad.

“When will my mom come back?” he asked his dad. “Why do they have my mom? I miss my mom.”

At the same time, Andreis said, he was going through his own crisis, trying in vain to console his son while wrestling with grief, worry, and desperation over what happened to his wife. He stopped his work as a laborer for two weeks to take care of Jacob, but that created financial stress and meant he sometimes couldn’t afford to fund his wife’s commissary account so she could buy better food and make phone calls. Jacob lived for those phone calls.

Jacob listed all the things he missed about his mom, including her cooking (rice with meat, corn cakes with egg), visiting the park together, and her taking him to get his hair cut, treating him to McDonald’s on the weekend, and bringing him to church. Most of all, he missed being close to her.

“I would lie down with her, and I’d watch videos with her,” he said. “My mom would hug me and I’d hug her.”

Sometimes he sprayed her perfume on himself so he could smell her.

After almost five months at the Adelanto ICE Processing Center, Jacob’s mother was released based on a habeas corpus petition in May. The family is still living in fear of detention or deportation. The father worries he too could be detained, and what that would mean for Jacob. Andreis is currently appealing a removal order for the two of them.

A published by the Brookings Institution estimates that over 200,000 children — including 145,000 U.S. citizen children — have likely had at least one parent detained since President Donald Trump returned to office. About a third of those children are under age 6. The number of children with detained parents is expected to grow as the federal government pours over $200 billion into immigration enforcement, including funding from the GOP’s and a appropriation Trump signed this month.

More than 4.6 million U.S. citizen children live with a parent at risk of deportation, according to the report.

Families Broken

Noemi, a Guatemalan mother and asylum seeker, stood in the parking lot at an ICE office north of Los Angeles, her three children wailing and clinging to her, glass from the family’s car scattered at their feet.

Moments earlier, immigration agents had smashed a window and forced her partner out of the car while he waited for Noemi and the kids to finish a check-in appointment. While they were inside, officers tried to separate Noemi from the couple’s children, ages 9, 7, and 1, but gave up after the kids started screaming, Noemi said. Meanwhile, her partner, a Mexican national who’s lived in the U.S. for almost 20 years, was sent to the ICE detention center in Adelanto.

“It was something tragic, something inexplicable that happened that day,” said Noemi, who asked to withhold her full name because she fears government retaliation for sharing her story. “It’s something that marks you for your whole life. My family was broken.”

Located in the Mojave Desert, the privately run Adelanto ICE Processing Center is the immigration detention center closest to Los Angeles and in the U.S. It held a daily average of as of April, and a facility next door called the Desert View Annex held an additional 426.

Since her partner’s detention in December, Noemi said, their children haven’t been the same.

Her 7-year-old daughter, till then usually happy and smiling, became depressed and refused to eat. Her once-high grades plummeted, and she forgot the names of letters and numbers in both English and Spanish. She and her 9-year-old brother struggled to sleep and asked constantly about their dad, wondering if he was taken because they’d done something wrong.

“Why is this happening to us?” they asked her. “We’re good. We’re studying.”

Noemi’s youngest daughter went back to crawling for three months, even though she’d already learned to walk before her father was taken. The little girl would cry out in her sleep, “Pa! Pa!”

Sofia Mendoza, a therapist who works with immigrant families at a community clinic in Los Angeles County, said separated children can experience a form of grief. It’s hard for them to come to terms with their parent’s absence because the parent is still alive, but not with them. This can disrupt the child’s bond with that parent and their ability to form trusting relationships in the future, she said.

Many children also become extremely anxious, angry, and fearful, Mendoza said. Young children often complain of physical symptoms such as stomachaches, develop separation anxiety, and regress to earlier behaviors like bed-wetting. Older children may have panic attacks, nightmares, and difficulty focusing, Mendoza said. Caregiver loss is also associated with and substance use in children.

Norma Gómez, a project manager for the Mixteco Indigena Community Organizing Project in Oxnard, said after immigration raids shook the community last summer, her 9-year-old daughter refused to go to school for a week and was afraid to leave her mom and dad, even though they’re legal U.S. residents. She’d seen other kids at school crying because family members had been detained. Gómez showed her daughter their U.S. residency documents to reassure her. The child asked to make copies for her classmates, hoping they would protect them too.

‘Time To Be an Adult’

Back in East Los Angeles, Damian is living with one of his aunts and struggling to adapt to not having his father around. He said his grades have dropped because he can’t focus in school. He no longer wants to do things he used to enjoy with his dad, such as going out to eat.

“Fun is over,” he said. “It’s time to be an adult right now.”

Being without his father has forced Damian to become more independent, he and his aunt Claudia Zermeño said. Before, his dad did almost everything for him. Now, Damian does his own laundry, helps with housework, and styles his own hair. He’s protective of his aunts, who are both devastated by their brother’s absence; he hugs them frequently and tells jokes to try to cheer them up. He doesn’t want to upset them more by showing his own sadness.

Damian receives therapy both in and outside of school. He said he’s learned breathing exercises that have helped, but he still feels sad and worried a lot of the time. Sometimes he feels angry.

“I try my hardest to think, to stay focused,” he said. “But with everything that’s going on, I can’t keep the facade of ‘everything’s normal’ when I feel heartbroken.”

Saúl Zermeño, now living in Guadalajara, said he’s worried about his son’s health. Damian has a genetic condition called , which causes tumors to grow on nerve tissue in his body, including one in his head that, if not checked regularly by a doctor and monitored by his family, could interfere with his brain. He also suffers from epilepsy and was born with only one kidney, which means he tires easily and doesn’t play sports. Saúl is afraid his son won’t get the care he needs without him there. As Damian’s legal guardian, Claudia Zermeño is doing everything she can for him, but she has two children of her own and is also caring for her mother, who has neurological problems from a stroke.

Damian talks with his dad as often as he can. He hopes to visit his father in Mexico, but he doesn’t have a passport and, as a minor under 16, there are more requirements to get one without his dad present. Saúl is working with an attorney to get permission to legally return to the U.S., but the process is complicated and uncertain.

So, for now, Damian’s hanging on to hope that his dad will be allowed to return and is trying to become the man he believes he should be. He’s making plans to get his driver’s license when he turns 16 this month. He’s given up his goal of going to college and instead wants to get a job right after high school to help his aunts and send money to his dad.

He still cries, but only when he’s alone in his room.

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