The CRIBS- Global team created a phenomenal hive of activity and events across the globe to commemorate World Pre-eclampsia Day on Thursday 22nd May 2025. These included global webinars, seminars, marches, creative drama, creative competitions, testimonies from women who had pre-eclampsia, and talks by academics, doctors and midwives.
In Sierra Leone there was student engagement with nurses and medical students at PCMH. Activities featured the CRADLE device and included a pre-eclampsia and hypertension lectures, BP and pre-eclampsia practicals and a creative drama about pre-eclampsia by SLeNSA.
In Zambia, there were campaign activities focused on raising awareness and promoting health about pre-eclampsia. The emphasis was on pregnant women and their families and communities, highlighting how while pre-eclampsia is dangerous, it is preventable with early detection and planning for appropriate timed delivery to improve mother and newborn health. The dedicated Zambian team, in collaboration with stakeholders such as the Ministry of Health, United Nations Population Fund (UNPFA) and pharmaceutical companies provided an array of activities ranging from educational talks, a Zambian National TV broadcast, a march-past supported by the Zambia Army brass band, and drama and dancing from the drama group.
In Angola, there was an opening speech by the Minister of Health, round-table discussions on Angolan TV, a theatre group production highlighting pre-eclampsia issues and blood pressure checking and a rural community event outside Luanda.
In London, the team hosted a CRIBS Global webinar, where global leaders in pre-eclampsia spoke about developments. These speakers from across the globe, included: Prof Andy Shennan, Prof Lucy Chappell, Sister Betty Sam, Prof Jenny Myers, Prof Leandro Gustavo de Oliveriera, Prof Geetanjali Katageri, Sister Josephine Miti, Dr Kate Bramham and Dr Lina Bergman.
In the evening, the team hosted an event at Southwark, with a reception by the Mayor of Southward, Summy Lambe, where Sarah Falkland, a pre-eclampsia lived experience expert and advocate spoke, alongside Jenna Martin, an award winning midwife, who also has a lived experience of pre-eclampsia and mentors student midwives.
At this event, the winners of the CRIBS Global Creative Call-Out was announced – a creative competition for expression and storytelling through any artistic medium, to share a voice about pre-eclampsia. This could be drawn from personal experience, the journey of a loved one or reflections as a healthcare professional. The winner was Sister Nana Kamara from Sierra Leone, who wrote a moving piece about the experience of pre-eclampsia. (see below)
No Woman Should Die Giving Birth
Mariama’s Awakening
Mariama sat on the clinic bed, clutching her swollen belly. Her eyes stung from the glare of the light above, but more from the blur in her vision. She had waited too long.
She didn’t know what brought her here that morning, maybe the headache that wouldn’t go, or the haunting memory of her cousin who died during childbirth last year. But she was here now. Thirty-two weeks pregnant. Her blood pressure was sky high.
The nurse leaned close and whispered gently, “You’re lucky to have come today. You have signs of preeclampsia.”
Preeclampsia? The word rang in Mariama’s ears. It was unfamiliar, yet heavy, as if it carried centuries of unspoken sorrow. She had to consult the doctor anxiously about this preeclampsia
That night, she lay in her hospital bed, hands resting on her stomach, and thoughts racing about all she had learnt. She whispered to herself:
“Let us rise and spread the word… No woman should die giving birth.”
She thought of her younger sister, Fatmata, who was now five months pregnant, yet to join ANC.
“If only she knew,” Mariama muttered. “If only we all knew…”
She remembered the day she first missed her period. The excitement. The fear. She wanted to go to the clinic, but her neighbor said, “No need yet. Wait till you’re showing.” Another added, “If you go early, people will know and spoil it for you.”
“If only women knew,” Mariama whispered again, “they would run to the PHU the moment they miss their periods.”
She recalled the stories. Women are being asked to pay just to be weighed. Some stopped coming altogether. Some waited until they were too sick to walk.
“They won’t let small reasons like no transport or fear of charges keep them from care,” she thought, tears in her eyes.
“They won’t believe that five months is when it begins. They’d know it begins the moment life starts inside them.”
Mariama turned and looked out the window. The sky was dark, but somewhere far, she saw the glimmer of dawn.
She closed her eyes and thought of women in the village—young, old, first-timers, grand multiparas.
“If only they knew that being too young or too old, or having had complications before, puts them at risk…”
“That swollen legs, blurred vision, severe headache, and pain under the ribs could mean danger…”
Her breath hitched as she remembered Isata, her dear friend. Isata had been strong and healthy, or so they thought, until the night the seizures began. Multiple convulsions shook her fragile body, and the baby inside was still alive. The doctors rushed her into surgery. They tried to save both mother and child. But by morning, both were gone. Gone! A silence so loud, it still echoed in Mariama’s heart.
“I still see her,” she whispered. “And I never want to see that again.”
She thought of Kadiatu, their neighbor who had six children and was pregnant again. The doctors had warned her, but she left the hospital, saying they were lying to her. She was found a week later on the roadside, seizing.
“These sights will never leave my memory,” Mariama murmured.
“I hope they don’t become someone else’s story.”
A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. It was the nurse again. “How are you feeling?”
Mariama smiled faintly. “Better. And stronger.”
She paused, then said with quiet strength:
“I want to help. I want to tell others. I want them to know what I didn’t.”
The nurse nodded. “That’s how we save lives. One woman’s story at a time.”
As the sun crept up, Mariama felt a warmth rise in her chest, not just the hope of surviving this pregnancy, but the determination to make sure no woman suffers in silence.
The nurse sat beside Mariama again the next morning, her voice calm and steady.
“Many women have been saved, Mariama,” she said. “Through early surveillance, through antenatal care. When we catch it early, we can give medications to control blood pressure. We monitor closely. And when the time is right, we deliver safely.”
Mariama listened, a new light in her eyes.
“Preeclampsia doesn’t have to end in tragedy,” the nurse continued. “And now, new devices are being developed, ones that can predict preeclampsia early, before the danger even begins.”
Mariama’s heart steadied. For the first time in days, she felt more than fear, she felt hope.
She nodded, gripping the nurse’s hand. “I’ll tell them. I’ll tell every woman I know.”
The nurse smiled. “That’s how we keep the light burning. That’s how we save lives.”
Mariama’s story is not just her own
It is a cry from the silence, a spark in the dark,
A voice rising where whispers once lived.
Let us rise, as sisters, as mothers, as neighbors and friends
To echo her truth in every corner,
To tear down the walls of myth and fear.
Preeclampsia is not rare, not distant, it is here,
It takes, it haunts, it steals what should be joy.
But it can be stopped, by telling our stories; we light the way.
By speaking out, we change the fate, by knowing, by sharing, by daring to care,
We become the shield and the strength.
Let our words run faster than fear.
Let our voices climb higher than silence.
Let our hands reach further than sorrow.
Let health workers be friends, not foes.
Let systems work, and Justice rise.
Because no woman, not one, should die giving birth.
Below is Shrreya Sudade‘s runner up entry image.
