What We Owe Adriana Smith
A Final Word on Dignity, Denial, and How Black Women Still Get Erased—Even in Death
Adriana Smith did not die because she was sick.
She died because her pain was ignored—twice.
Because she was dismissed—twice.
Because even after she was declared brain dead, the state treated her body as a vessel, not a person.
And her family? They were told they had no say.
Because she was pregnant.
This didn’t happen by accident.
It happened because of decisions—by providers, by a hospital ethics board, by lawmakers who built a system that protects the fetus more than the mother.
This was structured, layered, and entirely preventable.
We owe her more than remembrance.
We owe her reckoning.
🖤 She Was a Mother, a Nurse, a Daughter
Adriana Smith was 30 years old.
She was early in her pregnancy.
And she knew something was wrong.
She walked into two different hospitals in Atlanta in early February 2025 with a sudden, severe headache.
She asked for help. She explained her pain. She advocated for herself.
She was discharged. Twice.
No imaging.
No escalation.
No answers.
Her family said she spoke up. She knew the system. She was a nurse. And yet—it didn’t matter.
Even as her pain persisted. Even as she returned.
By the time she collapsed the next day, it was too late.
A CT scan revealed multiple brain clots.
She was declared brain dead within hours.
⚕️ 1. A Missed Diagnosis That Became a Death Sentence
Severe headache is one of the most well-documented warning signs of neurologic complications in pregnancy:
Cerebral venous sinus thrombosis (CVST)
Stroke
Preeclampsia with neurologic features
These are not rare. Especially in Black women. Especially in early pregnancy.
Adriana’s symptoms demanded neuroimaging.
But no CT or MRI was ordered at either hospital.
She was sent home with pain meds. Told to rest.
Her family later said she “gasped for air in her sleep” the next morning.
She did everything right.
The system failed her anyway.
“She should’ve been listened to first. That’s why we say: trust Black women.” — SisterSong
⚖️ 2. A Law That Silenced Her, Even After Death
Once Adriana was declared brain dead, the standard protocol would have been:
Discontinue life support
Allow the body to rest
Let her family grieve
Instead, her family was told that Georgia’s LIFE Act—the state’s 6-week abortion ban—required her body to be maintained to support the fetus.
Adriana was dead.
But because her fetus was 8–9 weeks along, the hospital claimed she must be kept alive.
Her mother, April Newkirk, said:
“We had no say. They told us it wasn’t our decision anymore.”
This is what post-Roe America looks like.
A dead woman, kept on life support, because the law defines a 9-week fetus as a person—and her, as a vessel.
🧠 3. The Ethical Cost of Forced Gestation
Maintaining somatic support on a brain-dead body for 4 months—starting at 9 weeks gestation—is nearly unheard of.
Yet this is what Emory Hospital chose.
Doctors hoped to get the fetus to 32 weeks. They made it to 25.
During that time:
Adriana’s body underwent forced hormonal support
Infection risk, circulatory instability, and multi-organ strain built up
The fetus developed in an environment with no maternal consciousness, likely reduced perfusion, and unknown neurologic impact
And the family bore the cost. Emotionally. Financially. Spiritually.
They launched a GoFundMe to raise $275,000 for Baby Chance’s care.
Because the state that forced this process offered nothing in return.
“It was torture,” her mother said.
“We wanted the baby—but the decision should’ve been ours. Not the state’s.”
👶🏽 4. A Baby Born into Uncertainty
On June 13, 2025, Adriana’s body underwent an emergency C-section.
Her baby, Chance, was delivered at 25 weeks—weighing just 1 lb 13 oz.
This is what that means:
A micro-preemie born at the edge of viability
Underdeveloped lungs
Fragile vessels in the brain susceptible to bleeding
High risk of long-term neurological complications
Chance was intubated. He received surfactant to help his lungs stay open.
He was placed in an incubator and surrounded by wires, monitors, and IV lines.
Before birth, ultrasounds had already shown fluid on the brain—a red flag for neurological damage.
His grandmother said:
“He may be blind. May not be able to walk. May not survive once he’s born. But we’re going to love him just the same.”
That love is unwavering. But love should not be the only support this child receives.
Because the system that fought so hard to keep him gestating has disappeared now that he’s here.
And no one—neither state nor hospital—has taken responsibility for the burden they placed on this family.
🧭 What We Owe Her—Clinically, Legally, and Systemically
This wasn’t just a medical error.
This was a coordinated, systemic failure that stretched across institutions and ideologies.
Here’s what justice looks like—not as a slogan, but as policy, practice, and prevention.
🩺 Clinically:
Flag return visits during pregnancy as automatic escalation points
Require neuroimaging for persistent headache when initial treatment fails
Listen to patient discomfort as diagnostic data—not a nuisance
⚖️ Legally:
End pregnancy exclusions in advance directives
Mandate hospital transparency about consent restrictions during pregnancy
Codify: Brain death is death. No exceptions based on gestational age
🏥 Institutionally:
Create internal ethics protocols that center pregnant patients’ prior wishes
Stop weaponizing legal ambiguity against grieving families
Publicly report when laws or policies are used to override next-of-kin decisions
🧑🏾🤝🧑🏽 Structurally:
Fund platforms like Diosa Ara that empower patients to advocate in real time
Provide legal and clinical navigation teams for families facing forced gestation
Train doulas, nurses, and birth workers in emergency advocacy escalation
🔥 We Need More Than Outrage. We Need Action.
Adriana Smith didn’t die from an unpredictable condition.
She died from predictable neglect—at the hands of a medical system that didn’t listen and a legal system that didn’t protect her.
And even in death, she was denied rest.
If we do nothing, this will happen again.
To someone else’s daughter. Someone else’s partner. Someone else’s sister.
“Not clear who we are making decisions for anymore.”
That’s what one ethicist said about Adriana’s case.
That’s not just a legal failure. It’s a moral one.
✅ What You Can Do Right Now
If you’re pregnant—or planning to be:
📋 Complete an Advance Care Directive with explicit pregnancy language
🩺 Don’t leave the ER if your pain persists. Ask: “What are you ruling out?”
💬 Say to your family: “If I’m ever brain dead and pregnant—I do not want to be kept on life support.”
If you’re a provider, doula, or advocate:
🧾 Learn your state’s pregnancy laws—and what they allow or prohibit
📱 Use tech tools that support maternal symptom triage and escalation
📢 Share Adriana’s story. Don’t let the silence win
If you’re a voter:
🗳️ Support reproductive justice candidates and legislation
✊🏾 Fight for laws that protect living women, not just embryos
🧠 Adriana’s Legacy Is a Mandate
This series wasn’t written to sensationalize Adriana’s death.
It was written because what happened to her was avoidable.
Because Black women are not protected by medical credentials.
Because “doing everything right” still doesn’t guarantee safety.
Because autonomy is still conditional—and often suspended—at the moment of pregnancy.
Because Adriana Smith deserved more.
And it is on us—all of us—to ensure she didn’t die in vain.
We Say Her Name Because It Should Have Been Enough
Adriana Smith.
Not just a case.
Not just a controversy.
A woman.
A nurse.
A mother.
A daughter.
A voice.
Silenced by neglect.
Used by the state.
Now amplified—by all of us.