Meghan, Duchess of Sussex — arguably one of the most scrutinized women in the world — revealed last week on her new podcast “Confessions of a Female Founder” that she suffered from a condition known as postpartum pre-eclampsia after giving birth to one of her children (though Meghan did not specify which one).
After sharing her experience, waves of misinformation and disinformation quickly followed, spreading across social media and tabloids. Some questioned the legitimacy of her condition; others accused her of exaggeration or seeking attention.
After sharing her experience, waves of misinformation and disinformation quickly followed, spreading across social media and tabloids.
This backlash is not only harmful; it’s dangerous. It undermines medical realities, discourages women from speaking up, and perpetuates a culture where maternal health is dismissed and politicized. Just last week, the Trump administration made cuts that gutted the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention’s Division of Reproductive Health, which in part monitors data on maternal mortality. The dehumanization of women, and especially women of color, in these conversations reinforces a system that already fails to listen and protect. When lived experiences are met with doubt instead of empathy, lives are at risk.
I developed postpartum pre-eclampsia six days after giving birth to my son — the same condition Meghan mentioned. To be clear, this is not the same as pre-eclampsia (pre-eclampsia develops when the baby is still in utero and comes with various other complications). It is imperative to distinguish the two because the context in which a woman is cared for within our medical system differs enormously during pregnancy and post-pregnancy. This distinction easily gets lost in the tabloid and social media noise.
Postpartum pre-eclampsia is a very serious and sometimes fatal condition, characterized by high blood pressure and protein in the urine in the days or weeks after giving birth. It can lead to seizing, a stroke, blood clots, excess fluid in the lungs, organ failure, brain damage and death (this is when it progresses to eclampsia). A reported 75% of maternal deaths are connected to postpartum pre-eclampsia, making it an especially dangerous condition, according to the Preeclampsia Foundation, the nation’s leading nonprofit on the issue. This is partly because the first postpartum checkup isn’t until week six — the exact cutoff point before which data suggests a woman is still at risk of developing the condition. By that time, women have long been discharged, and the attention has shifted to the new baby. The condition can come on fast and often with little warning.
When I was diagnosed, I had no prior history of high blood pressure, diabetes or obesity, nor was my son born via IVF — all of which are risk factors that data suggests might increase the likelihood of developing the condition. Due to massive gaps in the research, it’s safe to assume any woman, regardless of her medical history, is at some risk.
The night I was hospitalized, I noticed my ankles were swelling significantly. I developed a thundering headache and shortness of breath, so I asked my husband to take my blood pressure with a blood pressure cuff we happened to have lying around at home. The numbers were so alarming he thought maybe there was a mistake with the cuff — but he had me call my doctor, just in case.
After leaving a message for the on-call doctor, I downplayed my husband’s concern. Birth — the hard part, or so I thought — was over. I had a healthy baby boy to take care of. I left my phone to get a snack and returned to two missed calls and a voicemail from my OB-GYN telling me to return to labor and delivery immediately.
When we arrived at the hospital, I still didn’t feel too worried. So when the nurses started frantically hooking me up to a catheter and IVs, I was afraid and confused. Before anyone could tell me what was wrong with me, I was whisked away to a dark room as my headache worsened. At the time, I had no idea I was at risk of a lethal seizure or stroke.
At the time, I had no idea I was at risk of a lethal seizure or stroke.
While in emergency treatment, I could not hold or breastfeed my new baby, and my husband was left alone to care for him while worrying about what was happening to me. It was then that we learned about postpartum pre-eclampsia for the first time. It was terrifying — not just for me, but also for my husband.
I am so fortunate that not only did my husband believe my symptoms (and have a blood pressure cuff at home) but that my doctor believed me, too. I am a white woman who received swift and effective medical attention. Not everyone has that privilege or is as lucky. Gender bias and systemic issues, including the minimization of women’s pain and dismissal of Black women’s symptoms in particular, have led to many missed or delayed diagnoses. Black women are three times more likely than white women to die from pregnancy-related causes, and five times more likely to die from postpartum cardiomyopathy, a possible symptom of the condition.
By sharing that she suffered from postpartum pre-eclampsia, Meghan not only helps break the long-held silence around the condition, but also highlights how frequently women’s health concerns are dismissed or minimized, especially surrounding birth. The skepticism she has received isn’t just about celebrity gossip, it’s a microcosm of how society often treats women’s pain as an exaggeration. And when it’s a Black woman speaking out? The disbelief comes faster. Meghan’s willingness to speak publicly forces a critical conversation not just about postpartum health, but also about the cultural reflex to second-guess women when they say something feels wrong.
This backlash also speaks to the growing broader and darker mistrust of the medical establishment — ironically, rooted in histories of neglect, racism and systemic inequality — that continues to leave so many, especially women of color, feeling unheard or unprotected. That’s what makes the backlash to Meghan sharing her story particularly damaging; it threatens the progress toward a more inclusive and accountable medical system by discouraging others from speaking out.
Because maternal mortality is rising in the U.S., we cannot afford to stay silent. Our stories matter. Our lives matter. Every woman deserves to know the risks, princess or not — and to be believed.
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