CLOSING LABOR & DELIVERY IN BILOXI

​At the end of this month, the Biloxi hospital (Memorial Hospital Biloxi) will no longer deliver babies. Biloxi has nearly 50,000 people, yet a mother in labor will now have to ride eight miles to Ocean Springs or thirteen to Gulfport. That is not a long drive on a sunny morning. It is a lifetime when contractions are five minutes apart. Sad fact. But true.

The official reason is simple. Not enough deliveries to cover the cost of a Labor and Delivery unit. Too few births to keep the lights on, pay nurses, staff the nursery, and keep an obstetrician on call. Behind that reason sits a larger story. We are living through a long season of fewer babies and fewer births in hospitals like ours.

Why are women having fewer children than before? Start with the timing of life. Many women are marrying later or not at all. Careers take time to build. Graduate school takes time. Debt takes time to repay. The years that used to hold a first and second child now hold night shifts, board exams, and starter jobs. By the time life feels stable, biology has a say. Fertility falls with age and plans meet limits that no spreadsheet can fix.

Money weighs on the decision. Housing costs are up. Childcare is expensive. Groceries cost more. Insurance deductibles are not small. Parents want to give a child a safe, stable life. When the budget groans, parents delay or decide to stop at one. The love is there. The margin is not.

Contraception is part of the picture. It works as designed. When a society has wide access to reliable birth control, births tend to fall. That is not a moral judgment here. It is a description of how tools shape outcomes.

Culture matters too. The script that once said “marry, then children” has many new versions. Couples cohabit longer. Some prefer pets to parenting. Many want freedom to travel or build a business without the limits of nap schedules. The meaning of a good life has widened. The old markers of adulthood have loosened their grip.

Here is a quieter trend that few discuss in public. Since around 2001, sexual activity has slipped. Fewer people report regular intimacy. Fewer couples share a bed under the same roof. Screens have taken hours once given to each other. Pornography substitutes for closeness and numbs desire. Social media keeps us scrolling at midnight instead of talking face to face. Loneliness and anxiety cut into the simple joy of being together. When intimacy fades, conception follows.

Health also plays a role. More couples face infertility, or fear they will. Polycystic ovary syndrome, endometriosis, obesity, and untreated infections can all make pregnancy harder. The opioid crisis and rising rates of depression do not help. When health is fragile, pregnancy feels risky. Some step back out of caution or fatigue.

Now look again at the hospital side. Obstetricians carry heavy liability. Malpractice premiums can run to eye-watering levels, and one bad outcome can shake a practice. Reimbursement rates do not always match the skill and time required. A small hospital must staff a unit day and night and be ready for the rare emergency that demands a surgical team in minutes. If births fall below a certain number, the math breaks. Corporate owners notice. They consolidate services at the one site that can keep a team sharp and a ledger black. That choice may be rational on paper. It is still painful for a city that wants to welcome its children at home.

When a Labor and Delivery unit closes, a community loses more than a floor with bassinets. It loses a place where fathers pace the hallway and grandmothers cry happy tears. It loses nurses who know your family by name. It loses the invisible promise that a town can bring forth life within its own borders. That loss shapes the next generation’s sense of what is possible here.

What can we do? We can tell the truth about the pressures families face and refuse to shame them. We can support childcare, parental leave, and flexible work. We can invest in midwives, doulas, and collaborative models that keep outcomes safe and costs down. We can strengthen marriage and community ties so that couples feel less alone. We can teach young people that intimacy belongs to real relationships, not to pixels on a phone. We can encourage healthier habits that support fertility. We can push hospital leaders and public officials to measure value in more than dollars.
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None of this will flip a switch. Birth is the fruit of trust, love, and hope. Hope grows in places where neighbors help one another, where churches and civic groups show up, and where leaders put families first. If we want more babies in Biloxi, we will need more of all three. Until then, mothers will drive east or west to bring their children into the world. May those roads be smooth, may those deliveries be safe, and may our city find the courage to become a place that welcomes life again.