When Heather Wilson was pregnant with her first child in 2009, she was expecting a baby girl.
She planned to name her Kennedy.
Then Wilson developed preeclampsia, a dangerous pregnancy complication that causes high blood pressure.
At the time, Wilson did not fully understand how serious it could become.
“The doctors didn’t let me know that it could cost me my life or cost my daughter her life, which is what ultimately happened,” Wilson said.
One day, Kennedy stopped moving.
Wilson and her husband rushed to the hospital, where doctors could not find a heartbeat. Wilson labored for about 26 hours before delivering Kennedy stillborn.
“We went from, you know, painting a room, decorating a room, putting her name on the wall, washing all her clothes and preparing for a baby, installing car seats, to planning a funeral,” Wilson said.
Stillbirth remains a devastating pregnancy outcome that falls unevenly across racial lines.
National data from Centers for Disease Control and Prevention show Black women are about twice as likely as white women to experience stillbirth.
Research has also found women of color are more likely to report mistreatment during labor and delivery, including being shouted at, scolded or ignored.
Wilson said those findings reflect what she experienced herself and what she hears from other families.
In Hampton Roads, mothers, doulas and health professionals told WHRO ensuring pregnant patients, especially Black women, are listened to before a pregnancy becomes dangerous is an issue. If things go south, grieving families also can have trouble finding help afterward.
A loss that becomes a mission
For Wilson, that support gap became clear almost immediately after Kennedy’s death. As her family navigated the loss, they found there was nothing small enough, or appropriate enough, for Kennedy to wear at her funeral.
“So they were even looking at, like, doll clothes,” Wilson said. “And even though she was five pounds, and though there may be preemie clothes in the store, they’re not appropriate for a funeral. They’re onesies.”
Years later, Wilson turned that memory into Kennedy’s Angel Gowns, a nonprofit that makes burial gowns for babies from donated wedding dresses.
Inside her Virginia Beach home, one bedroom has been turned into a sewing workspace. Almost 100 angel gowns hang in neat rows, with colorful thread, ribbons and donated fabric stored on shelves below.
The gowns are made in soft colors like white, cream and pink, often with satin and lace trim.
The work starts with collecting donated wedding dresses. Wilson cuts them apart and stitches the fabric into tiny burial gowns for babies. She said one wedding dress can make about a dozen angel gowns.
“To upcycle a wedding dress, it makes the cost free, so we’re able to give them to families for free,” Wilson said. “The community has really stepped in with wedding gown donations.”
Kennedy’s Angel Gowns became an official nonprofit in 2017. What started with Wilson sewing on her own has grown into a volunteer effort with about 20 active participants, some in Hampton Roads and others who sew from farther away.
Besides sewing, Wilson and her group also help families with funeral costs, run support groups and train doulas to support parents through pregnancy, birth and bereavement.
She said the doula program grew out of what she kept seeing after families came to her for gowns: many parents needed support long before they reached the point of planning a funeral.
“I hate to say it, but being Black and brown is unfortunately costing us the lives of babies and moms,” Wilson said.
When mothers say they are not heard
Mailin Key, who used to live in Hampton, said her pregnancy experience in Hampton Roads reflected the broader concern: Black women are not always heard when they raise concerns during pregnancy or delivery.
Key’s son, Masai, was stillborn after she went into labor. She said she had concerns during pregnancy, but did not feel they were taken seriously.
“I would say things and they kind of like brushed it, like, ‘oh no, you’re okay, don’t worry about it,’” Key said.
She said she does not know whether Masai’s death could have been prevented. Doctors told her his death was related to a rare umbilical cord condition. But she said the experience left her feeling unheeded at a time when she was already in pain and afraid.
Nataki Hill, Key’s doula, said many of the Black mothers she supports have similar complaints.
“I see it in real life,” Hill said. “I see my mamas being ignored. I see it because I also take white clients, and when I walk in with them, they are treated differently. They’re listened to.”
Hill said symptoms such as headaches, swelling and high blood pressure are sometimes dismissed as normal pregnancy discomfort.
Jennifer Lesko, an associate professor of OB-GYN at VCU Health, said pregnancy loss can happen at different stages, and the causes and risks are not always the same.
Early miscarriage is often linked to genetic or chromosomal abnormalities, she said. Later pregnancy loss and stillbirth may involve different medical and social factors, including hypertensive disorders, diabetes, fetal growth restriction, chronic disease and access to prenatal care.
She said patients in rural areas may have fewer hospitals or providers nearby. That can make it harder to get counseling before conceiving, early appointments and ongoing monitoring during pregnancy.
“We need to improve access to preconception counseling and care, so that patients can come in and understand their general risks,” Lesko said.
She said VCU is trying to identify those risks earlier, so doctors can monitor pregnancies more closely and step in before they become dangerous.
The school’s Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology also works with the Virginia Department of Health’s Pregnancy Loss Initiative. The state program partners with local groups, including Kennedy’s Angel Gowns, to support families after miscarriage, stillbirth and infant loss.
Lesko said the program through VCU helps fund counseling, remembrance resources for families after a loss.
“I’ll never stop doing it”
Wilson has long loved sewing.
She earned a degree in psychology, then went to fashion school. She imagined a career in fashion, maybe as a buyer or working in couture.
Instead, Wilson now sews burial gowns for babies.
“I know I’m helping, and so I feel good about that part of it,” Wilson said. “But I can say that sewing is different for me now.”
A decade after she made the first angel gown, Wilson and her group distribute about four or five gowns every week, mostly in Hampton Roads.
“I’ll never stop doing it,” Wilson said. “As long as there’s a need for these gowns, I’ll be sewing them.”
