THE FRONT PORCH: Grieving the loss of labor & delivery

By Stephen Baldwin, RealWV

Welcome to our front porch! Where we talk about what’s going on in West Virginia, like neighbors sitting in rocking chairs, watching the sun set.

Last week, I went to visit a friend. She was reminiscing about days gone by, when suddenly her tone shifted. “I’ve been reading your stories about the hospital not delivering babies anymore, and I’m just beside myself. How can this be happening to us?”

It’s a question I’ve faced, in various forms, more times than I can count over the last six months. Folks throughout the Greenbrier Valley are stunned that Greenbrier Valley Medical Center is no longer operating a labor & delivery unit. The unit served families from at least five counties, before closing for good last week. (Other obstetrics units are also closing around the state, with 10 closures in the last decade.) Most of the state is considered a “maternity care desert,” a problem that’s only deepening.

Local business leaders say it will hurt recruitment and retention of young professionals and families. Young women say it makes them second-guess whether this is the right place to raise a family. Medical professionals say obstetrics does come at a financial cost, but they worry that losing it costs even more in community trust.

And folks like my friend, who is getting on in years, say it’s a worrisome sign for the future. I think that’s why it upset her so much. Her children, grandchildren, nieces, nephews, and Sunday School students were all born at the local hospital. She said, “They all knew they had a place here. Will kids still know they have a place here?”

As a pastor, it sounded like grief to me. Many folks in the community are grieving the loss, and they are grieving what others subsequent losses could come from this one.

They’re not the only ones grieving. Lost in the shuffle are the small but mighty group of staff members who’ve been holding labor & delivery together for years now, working long hours as a labor of love to nurture life into the world. (They have said publicly that they were told not to report to the obstetrics unit on its final day of operation, April 24, 2026, a decision which hurt them deeply.)

Every person I’ve talked to in the community about the closure, even those who are grieving deeply, has also said how much they appreciate the staff who came to work each day with a smile on their face ready to help families through the happiest and scariest day of their life. The community sees their sacrifices and shares a deep gratitude for making a difficult job look easy all those years.

One of healthiest ways to deal with grief is to talk about it. We hope you will join the conversation in the comments by telling us: How are you grieving this loss in the community? Was there a particular doctor or nurse who made a positive impact on you when you (or your family member) gave birth? What public policy changes can we make to ensure children are brought into the world in healthy ways?

Thanks for joining the conversation. We’ll get through this how we always do–together.