By Dr Jessica Sneha Gray
Seven years ago, a beautiful baby boy was born in Whakatane, a boy who is now growing into the kind of New Zealander we can all be proud of. He’s learning how to save lives as a St John cadet, embracing leadership values—learning with purpose, engaging with kindness, acting with respect, and daring to dream.
But here’s something you need to know: he wouldn’t be here today if not for the obstetrician at Whakatane Hospital.
When I was in labour, that obstetrician scanned me and said with clear urgency, “We need to take you to the theatre right now. The baby’s head is caught in an angle such that he can’t come out.” In that moment, I saw my son’s life flash before my eyes—the life he might never have lived.
I wasn’t the naïve first-time mother the midwife had dismissed with a condescending, “Sweetheart, you’re not pushing properly.” That comment is a story for another day, but it highlights an unsettling truth: too often, women’s voices and instincts in critical medical situations are dismissed.
Had I been forced to travel to Tauranga—over an hour away—things could have ended very differently. The obstetrician’s timely intervention saved my son’s life.
Yet today, Whakatane faces the very real threat of losing obstetric care. This crisis is not abstract; it is a matter of life and death. It could prevent mothers from accessing critical care when they need it most.
A Community in Crisis
Whakatane, like so many other parts of New Zealand, is grappling with a shortage of obstetricians. But this isn’t just about staffing levels—it’s about what kind of country we want to be.
Our tamariki are the foundation of our future. Without reliable maternity services, we risk not only the health of mothers but also the potential of their children. The ripple effects of this crisis extend far beyond Whakatane. They reach into the heart of our national identity.
For years, I’ve tried to make my voice heard. I’ve spoken with ministers over coffee including the current local MP, and written to those in power, explaining the urgency of the situation. I’ve heard promises of action before the election (as long as you vote for me ofcourse!)—empty words that fade as quickly as they’re spoken.
The government assures us they’re “working hard in the background.” We’re told “these things take time.” But the truth is, while politicians play their games, lives hang in the balance. Babies are dying. Mothers are suffering. And the health of future generations is being compromised.
Political Rhetoric vs. Reality
This is not a partisan issue. It’s not about Labour or National or any other party. It’s about a bipartisan system that has prioritised photo opportunities over people.
The crisis in Whakatane isn’t new. It has been brewing for years, and it reflects a healthcare system that has lost its way. We’ve replaced “care” with cost-cutting and centralisation, leaving communities like ours to fend for themselves.
If centralising services in Tauranga is the government’s solution, then we need a plan—a real plan that addresses the logistical and emotional toll this will take on mothers, families, and healthcare workers. This is where we need experts: healthcare professionals, sociologists, psychologists, iwi, paramedics, and policymakers working together to create sustainable solutions.
Beyond the Spin: A Call to Action
What frustrates me most is the political spin that surrounds these issues. Leaders claim to care, but where is the action? Where are the real solutions?
We don’t need more grandstanding or promises of future reform. We need action—now. We need a think tank of experts, media to keep this story alive, and those with lived experience to lead the way.
The future of this country rests on the health of our tamariki. The quality of their lives begins at birth. Addressing the maternity crisis in Whakatane is not just about healthcare; it’s about the kind of nation we want to be.
Rebuilding our maternity care system is the first step toward restoring care and compassion to our healthcare system.
This is a fight we cannot afford to lose. For our mothers. For our children. For our future.
---
Dr. Jessica Sneha Gray is an applied sociologist at Drjg Insights based in the Bay of Plenty.
Comments