Every few months, a new report drops like clockwork -- telling us that Black women are three to four times more likely to die in childbirth than white women. And frankly, many of us are tired of hearing about our own deaths as if they're a data point, not a crisis.

But what if the solution isn't just more studies, more panels, more politicians spotlighting the problem, but rarely follow through with solutions?

What if the answer is something our grandmothers already knew?

Before the sterile hospital gowns and assembly-line births, Black women were delivering babies with the help of midwives -- Black, wise, unlicensed in paperwork but licensed in spirit. They knew herbs, they knew the body, and they knew the woman -- not just her due date.

Doulas were part of that lineage too. They were birth witnesses, spiritual anchors, and emotional armor.

Somewhere along the way, we were told to trade that in.

Let's be honest -- some of the resistance to midwives and doulas isn't just about access.

Taught that if it doesn't come with a white coat or hospital badge, it's risky.

We side-eye Black midwives but don't blink at strangers slicing us open in delivery rooms.

We dismiss doulas as "extra" but trust systems that silence our pain.

But a lot of it is conditioning -- the quiet message that our care isn't as "qualified," even when the outcomes say otherwise.

We were meant to be held, seen, and heard by people who understand the weight of our bodies and the worth of our lives.

According to the CDC, 84% of pregnancy-related deaths are preventable. That's not a typo. That means the vast majority of mothers who die during or after childbirth could still be here -- laughing, healing, nursing, raising.

Here's what's killing us -- plain and simple:

But research shows when doulas and midwives are present, outcomes improve -- especially for Black women.

In fact, studies show that community-based midwifery and doula support can cut racial birth disparities in half.

Midwives and doulas do something hospitals struggle to deliver: presence.

They advocate when the IV is in and the fear sets in.

Midwives bring medical care with compassion.

Doulas bring emotional care with understanding.

Together, they guard the body and protect the experience. And for Black mothers who've been ignored, rushed, or blamed -- that makes all the difference.

I saw it myself. I watched my cousin give birth at home, surrounded by a midwife and a doula who held the room like anchors in a storm. Everything was calm. Everything was right. And when it was over, I cried. Because that kind of care still exists -- and every woman deserves to know it. And it made me wonder why everyone doesn't get that.

This Is A Solution That Doesn't Wait on Congress

We don't have to wait on a bill to pass to start trusting the people who've been saving lives long before hospitals had policies.

Bring back the village. A woman with steady hands, a knowing voice, and a calling to bring life into this world safely.

Let's stop reading about preventable deaths and start writing new birth stories -- ones that end with joy, not grief.