Jessie Mazar squeezed the grab handle in her husband’s pickup and groaned as contractions struck her during the 90-minute drive from her home in rural northeastern California to the closest hospital with a maternity unit.
She could have reached Plumas District Hospital, in Quincy, in just seven minutes. But it no longer delivers babies.
Local officials have a plan for a birth center in Quincy, where midwives could deliver babies with backup from on-call doctors and a standby perinatal unit at the hospital, but state health officials have yet to approve it.
That left Mazar to brave the long, winding road — one sometimes blocked by snow, floods, or forest fires — to have her baby. Women across California are facing similar ordeals as hospitals increasingly close money-losing maternity units, especially in rural areas.
Midwife-operated birth centers offer an alternative for women with low-risk pregnancies and can play a crucial role in filling the gap left by hospitals’ retreat from obstetrics, maternal health advocates say.
Declining birth rates, staffing shortages, and financial pressures have led 56 California hospitals — about 1 in 6 — to shutter maternity units over the past dozen years.
But midwives say California’s regulatory regime around birth centers is unnecessarily preventing new centers from opening and leading some existing facilities to close. Obtaining a license can take as long as four years.
“All they’ve essentially done is made it more dangerous to have a baby,” said Sacramento midwife Bethany Sasaki. “People have to drive two hours now because a birth center can’t open, so it’s more dangerous. People are going to be having babies in cars on the side of the road.”
Last month, state Assembly member Mia Bonta introduced legislation to streamline the regulatory process and fix what she calls “a broken system” for licensing birth centers.
“We know that alternative birth centers lead to often better outcomes, lower-risk births, more opportunity for children to be born healthy, and also to lower maternal mortality and morbidity,” she said.
The proposed bill would remove various bureaucratic requirements, though many details have yet to be finalized. Bonta introduced the bill in its current form as a jumping-off point for discussions about how to expedite licensing.
“It’s a starting place,” said Sandra Poole, health policy advocate for the Western Center on Law & Poverty, a co-sponsor of the legislation.
For now, birth centers struggle with a gantlet of rules, only some clearly connected to patient safety. Over the past decade, the number of licensed birth centers in California dropped from 12 to five, according to Bonta.
Plumas County officials are trying to address one key issue: how far a birth center can be from a hospital with a round-the-clock obstetrics unit. State regulations say it can be no more than a 30-minute drive, a distance set when many more hospitals had maternity units.
The first-of-its-kind “Plumas model” aims to take advantage of flexibility provisions in the law to address the obstacle in a way that could potentially be replicated elsewhere in the state.
But the hospital’s application for a birth center and a perinatal unit has been “languishing” with the California Department of Public Health, which is “looking for cover from the legislature,” said Robert Moore, chief medical officer of Partnership HealthPlan of California, a Medi-Cal managed-care plan serving most of Northern California. Asked about the application, a CDPH spokesperson said only that it was under review.
The goal should be for all women to be within an hour’s drive of a hospital with an obstetrics unit, Moore said. Data shows the complication rate goes up after an hour and even higher after two hours, he said, while the benefit is less compelling between 30 and 60 minutes.
Numerous other regulations have made it difficult for birth centers to keep their doors open.
Since August, birth centers in Sacramento and Monterey have had to stop operating because their heating ducts failed to meet licensing requirements. The facilities fall under the same state Department of Health Care Access and Information regulations as primary care clinics, though birth centers see healthy families, not sick ones, and don’t need hospital-grade ventilation, said midwife Caroline Cusenza.
She had spent $50,000 remodeling the Monterey Birth & Wellness Center to include state-required items, such as nursing and hand-washing stations and a housekeeping closet. In the end, a requirement for galvanized steel heating vents, which would have required opening the ceiling at an unaffordable cost, prompted her heart-wrenching decision to close.
“We’re turning women away in tears,” said Sasaki, who owned Midtown Birth Center in Sacramento. She bought the building for $760,000 and spent $250,000 remodeling it in a way she believed met all licensing requirements. But regulators would not license it unless the heating system was redone. Sasaki estimated it would have cost an additional $50,000 to bring it into compliance — too much to keep operating.
She blamed her closure on “regulatory dysfunction.”
Legislation signed by Gov. Gavin Newsom last year could ease onerous building codes such as those governing Sasaki’s and Cusenza’s heating systems, said Poole, the health policy advocate.
The state has taken two to four years to issue birth center licenses, according to a brief by the Osher Center for Integrative Health at the University of California-San Francisco. The state Department of Public Health “works tirelessly to ensure health facilities are able to be properly licensed and follow all applicable requirements within our authority before and during their operation,” spokesperson Mark Smith said.
Bonta, an Oakland Democrat who chairs the Assembly’s health committee, said she would consider increasing the allowable drive time between a birth center and a hospital maternity unit as part of her new legislation.
The state last updated birth center regulations more than a decade ago, before hospitals’ mass exodus from obstetrics. “The hurdle is the time and distance standards without compromising safety,” Poole said. “But where there’s nothing right now, we would say a birth center is certainly a better alternative to not having any maternal care.”
Moore noted that midwife-led births in homes and birth centers are the mainstay of obstetric care in Europe, where the infant mortality rate is considerably lower than in the U.S. More than 98% of American babies are born in hospitals.
Babies delivered by midwives are more likely to be born vaginally, less likely to require intensive care, and more likely to breastfeed, the California Maternal Quality Care Collaborative has found. Midwife-led births also lead to fewer infant emergency room visits, hospitalizations, and neonatal deaths. And they cost far less: Birth centers generally charge one-quarter or less of the average cost of about $36,000 for a vaginal birth in a California hospital.
If they catered only to private-pay clients, Cusenza and Sasaki could have continued operating without licenses. They must be licensed, however, to receive payments from Medi-Cal and some private insurance companies, which they needed to remain in business. Medi-Cal, the state’s Medicaid health insurance program, which covers low-income residents, paid for about 40% of the state’s births in 2022.
Bonta has heard reports from midwives that the key to getting licensed is hunting down the right state health department advocate. “I don’t believe that we should be building resources based on the model of ‘Where’s Waldo?’ in finding a champion inside CDPH,” she said.
Lori Link, director of midwifery at Plumas District Hospital, believes the Plumas model can turn what’s become a maternity desert into an oasis. Jessie Mazar, whose son was born in September without complications at a Truckee hospital, would welcome the opportunity to deliver her planned second child in Quincy.
“That would be convenient,” she said. “We’re not holding our breath.”
This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation.
Jessie Mazar squeezed the grab handle in her husband’s pickup and groaned as contractions struck her during the 90-minute drive from her home in rural northeastern California to the closest hospital with a maternity unit.
She could have reached Plumas District Hospital, in Quincy, in just seven minutes. But it no longer delivers babies.
Local officials have a plan for a birth center in Quincy, where midwives could deliver babies with backup from on-call doctors and a standby perinatal unit at the hospital, but state health officials have yet to approve it.
That left Mazar to brave the long, winding road — one sometimes blocked by snow, floods, or forest fires — to have her baby. Women across California are facing similar ordeals as hospitals increasingly close money-losing maternity units, especially in rural areas.
Midwife-operated birth centers offer an alternative for women with low-risk pregnancies and can play a crucial role in filling the gap left by hospitals’ retreat from obstetrics, maternal health advocates say.
Declining birth rates, staffing shortages, and financial pressures have led 56 California hospitals — about 1 in 6 — to shutter maternity units over the past dozen years.
But midwives say California’s regulatory regime around birth centers is unnecessarily preventing new centers from opening and leading some existing facilities to close. Obtaining a license can take as long as four years.
“All they’ve essentially done is made it more dangerous to have a baby,” said Sacramento midwife Bethany Sasaki. “People have to drive two hours now because a birth center can’t open, so it’s more dangerous. People are going to be having babies in cars on the side of the road.”
Last month, state Assembly member Mia Bonta introduced legislation to streamline the regulatory process and fix what she calls “a broken system” for licensing birth centers.
“We know that alternative birth centers lead to often better outcomes, lower-risk births, more opportunity for children to be born healthy, and also to lower maternal mortality and morbidity,” she said.
The proposed bill would remove various bureaucratic requirements, though many details have yet to be finalized. Bonta introduced the bill in its current form as a jumping-off point for discussions about how to expedite licensing.
“It’s a starting place,” said Sandra Poole, health policy advocate for the Western Center on Law & Poverty, a co-sponsor of the legislation.
For now, birth centers struggle with a gantlet of rules, only some clearly connected to patient safety. Over the past decade, the number of licensed birth centers in California dropped from 12 to five, according to Bonta.
Plumas County officials are trying to address one key issue: how far a birth center can be from a hospital with a round-the-clock obstetrics unit. State regulations say it can be no more than a 30-minute drive, a distance set when many more hospitals had maternity units.
The first-of-its-kind “Plumas model” aims to take advantage of flexibility provisions in the law to address the obstacle in a way that could potentially be replicated elsewhere in the state.
But the hospital’s application for a birth center and a perinatal unit has been “languishing” with the California Department of Public Health, which is “looking for cover from the legislature,” said Robert Moore, chief medical officer of Partnership HealthPlan of California, a Medi-Cal managed-care plan serving most of Northern California. Asked about the application, a CDPH spokesperson said only that it was under review.
The goal should be for all women to be within an hour’s drive of a hospital with an obstetrics unit, Moore said. Data shows the complication rate goes up after an hour and even higher after two hours, he said, while the benefit is less compelling between 30 and 60 minutes.
Numerous other regulations have made it difficult for birth centers to keep their doors open.
Since August, birth centers in Sacramento and Monterey have had to stop operating because their heating ducts failed to meet licensing requirements. The facilities fall under the same state Department of Health Care Access and Information regulations as primary care clinics, though birth centers see healthy families, not sick ones, and don’t need hospital-grade ventilation, said midwife Caroline Cusenza.
She had spent $50,000 remodeling the Monterey Birth & Wellness Center to include state-required items, such as nursing and hand-washing stations and a housekeeping closet. In the end, a requirement for galvanized steel heating vents, which would have required opening the ceiling at an unaffordable cost, prompted her heart-wrenching decision to close.
“We’re turning women away in tears,” said Sasaki, who owned Midtown Birth Center in Sacramento. She bought the building for $760,000 and spent $250,000 remodeling it in a way she believed met all licensing requirements. But regulators would not license it unless the heating system was redone. Sasaki estimated it would have cost an additional $50,000 to bring it into compliance — too much to keep operating.
She blamed her closure on “regulatory dysfunction.”
Legislation signed by Gov. Gavin Newsom last year could ease onerous building codes such as those governing Sasaki’s and Cusenza’s heating systems, said Poole, the health policy advocate.
The state has taken two to four years to issue birth center licenses, according to a brief by the Osher Center for Integrative Health at the University of California-San Francisco. The state Department of Public Health “works tirelessly to ensure health facilities are able to be properly licensed and follow all applicable requirements within our authority before and during their operation,” spokesperson Mark Smith said.
Bonta, an Oakland Democrat who chairs the Assembly’s health committee, said she would consider increasing the allowable drive time between a birth center and a hospital maternity unit as part of her new legislation.
The state last updated birth center regulations more than a decade ago, before hospitals’ mass exodus from obstetrics. “The hurdle is the time and distance standards without compromising safety,” Poole said. “But where there’s nothing right now, we would say a birth center is certainly a better alternative to not having any maternal care.”
Moore noted that midwife-led births in homes and birth centers are the mainstay of obstetric care in Europe, where the infant mortality rate is considerably lower than in the U.S. More than 98% of American babies are born in hospitals.
Babies delivered by midwives are more likely to be born vaginally, less likely to require intensive care, and more likely to breastfeed, the California Maternal Quality Care Collaborative has found. Midwife-led births also lead to fewer infant emergency room visits, hospitalizations, and neonatal deaths. And they cost far less: Birth centers generally charge one-quarter or less of the average cost of about $36,000 for a vaginal birth in a California hospital.
If they catered only to private-pay clients, Cusenza and Sasaki could have continued operating without licenses. They must be licensed, however, to receive payments from Medi-Cal and some private insurance companies, which they needed to remain in business. Medi-Cal, the state’s Medicaid health insurance program, which covers low-income residents, paid for about 40% of the state’s births in 2022.
Bonta has heard reports from midwives that the key to getting licensed is hunting down the right state health department advocate. “I don’t believe that we should be building resources based on the model of ‘Where’s Waldo?’ in finding a champion inside CDPH,” she said.
Lori Link, director of midwifery at Plumas District Hospital, believes the Plumas model can turn what’s become a maternity desert into an oasis. Jessie Mazar, whose son was born in September without complications at a Truckee hospital, would welcome the opportunity to deliver her planned second child in Quincy.
“That would be convenient,” she said. “We’re not holding our breath.”
This article was produced by KFF Health News, which publishes California Healthline, an editorially independent service of the California Health Care Foundation.
