I was born and raised in Houston, Texas. It’s the city that shaped me, the place where my family built a life, and the place where I believed I would be safest bringing a child into the world. Houston is home to the world’s largest medical center and is often held up as a symbol of medical excellence and innovation. It’s also where I nearly died giving birth.
In November 2005, I walked into my OBGYN’s office for what I believed would be a routine prenatal checkup. I was close to six months pregnant, college-educated, living a solidly middle-class life, and insured twice over through both my employer and my then-husband’s employer. By every measure, I was considered low risk. I had no prior history of high blood pressure or hypertension. I attended regular prenatal visits. I had stable housing, reliable access to healthy food, paid time off, and access to specialists. I was giving birth in my hometown, surrounded by the medical institutions for which Houston is famous.
Again, I almost died…