By Ana Lepe Vick, as told to Lauren Levinson.
Content warning: The following is a personal story that contains experience with pregnancy loss and stillbirth.
For What to Expect's "Mom Heroes" series, parents who have gone to great lengths to help others share their inspirational stories.
When I took the podium, my voice trembled. Then the fury took over.
It was 2022, and I was speaking at a community rally in Washington, D.C., sharing the story of my son, Owen Nathaniel. He was still born in 2015, when I was 31 weeks pregnant.
I was speaking in front of hundreds of healthcare providers and other bereaved parents to demand better stillbirth prevention and risk education.
I shocked even myself, shouting that 1 in 170 babies are still born each year. “That one was my son,” I cried.
Every year in the United States, 21,000 pregnancies end in stillbirth, and at least one in four of these deaths may be preventable with better education, fetal monitoring and prenatal care, according to the National Institutes of Health.[1]
That’s why I decided to co-found PUSH for Empowered Pregnancy in 2021. It’s a nonprofit dedicated to educating healthcare professionals, advocating for better policies and spreading awareness of stillbirth risk.
Years later, I'm still telling my story — and speaking out so that no other family has to go through what I did.
I never expected my pregnancy to end in stillbirth
When I was pregnant with Owen, I was a healthy 32-year-old with no known risk factors for stillbirth. This was my second pregnancy and my first delivery went smoothly. At each prenatal appointment, I was told everything looked perfect. My doctor always asked, "Is he moving okay today?" And I always answered without hesitation, "Yes, of course."
But around 31 weeks, I noticed Owen’s movement pattern changed and my stomach felt softer. My instincts knew something was wrong. I rushed to the nearest ER while my husband, Joshua, stayed home with our older daughter, Naomi.
What happened next is a blur. Owen was still alive when I arrived at the hospital, but his heart rate was dangerously low. While I was getting an ultrasound, the staff prepped the operating room for an emergency C-section. At this point, Joshua was on his way. He arrived just in time to witness the unthinkable — the failed attempts to revive our baby.
I was under anesthesia, right beside him, as he watched our world collapse. They called the time of Owen's death and handed Joshua our perfect, lifeless son.
Five years later, we finally found out his cause of death was cord compression.
Now I advocate for changes in maternal healthcare
In 2021, I co-founded PUSH to spread awareness around stillbirth — and push for changes, so no other parents have to experience what we did. We work with other advocacy groups like Measure the Placenta to educate doctors to always monitor placenta size and umbilical cords, not just during a high-risk pregnancy.
We also work together to research exactly how the placenta can be monitored during pregnancy to prevent a loss, since these types of protocols and recommendations have helped other countries lower the risk of stillbirth.
Other members of PUSH and I attend the monthly National Institute of Health's Stillbirth Working Group meetings. We've sat in front of the task force, which was congressionally mandated to examine stillbirth in the U.S., giving our two cents from our lived experiences. As a result, the organization has shifted some of their focus from bereavement to prevention, acknowledging the systemic failures in our country that must be addressed to end this stillbirth crisis.
We also train providers on how to help families who have experienced a loss. And we offer digital guides and virtual classes that have helped more than 500 million expectant families learn symptoms to look out for and when to call their providers.
The current recommendation is to start paying attention to kick counts more closely around 28 weeks through the end of pregnancy, but every baby has their own pattern, which could mean earlier or more frequent monitoring may be needed.[2]
I’ve traveled to Washington, D.C., to meet with House and Senate representatives about the Maternal and Child Health Stillbirth Prevention Act, which PUSH played a huge role in getting passed in 2024. The act clarifies that existing Title V funds can be used for stillbirth prevention research, and that states can use this money to implement programs aimed at reducing stillbirths within their own communities.
We talk with state representatives day in and day out to push for as much stillbirth prevention research as possible. Here in my own state, North Carolina, I meet with local legislators about this. I recently spoke at a press conference alongside my local Representative, Senator Sydney Batch, and other bereaved parents to highlight the urgent need for change. My husband and children join me for these events because this fight is deeply personal to our family.
In all of my meetings across the country, I carry Owen’s bear that weighs 4 lbs. 2 oz., and is 18.5 inches — just like he was. I also carry the knit beanie the hospital placed on him when he was born, one of the few items that ever touched him. It's a physical reminder of the reason I founded PUSH and why we do the work we do.
I will continue to share my story and demand better care. I mother Owen the only way I still can, by fighting every day for his memory and saving other families from this pain. Every baby born still #StillCounts. Owen’s life matters. His story is driving change, and I won’t stop until every parent has the knowledge and care needed to give their baby the best chance at life.
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