In Nigeria, pregnancy is increasingly fraught with peril, especially for women and girls living in the country’s north, where conflict, poverty, and dwindling health resources have combined to create a crisis of maternal health. According to the World Health Organization (WHO), more women die giving birth in Nigeria than anywhere else on earth—a staggering statistic that casts a long shadow over the lives of millions.
Take the story of Aisha Muhammed, a resident of the embattled Borno State. In the third trimester of her pregnancy, Aisha experienced the terrifying symptoms of eclampsia: convulsions and dangerously high blood pressure. Her village’s only health clinic had no doctor, and the nearest medical help was 40 kilometers away in Maiduguri—a city surrounded by violence and uncertainty. Against the odds, Aisha made it to the hospital and delivered twins by cesarean section in April. But the experience left deep scars. "Even though children are a source of joy, if I will have to go through the same ordeal again, I am afraid of getting pregnant," she told the Associated Press, her voice heavy with emotion.
Aisha’s story is far from unique. In 2023 alone, Nigeria accounted for more than a quarter of the world’s maternal deaths—75,000 in total, according to the WHO. At least one in every 100 women dies giving birth in Africa’s most populous nation, a country of 220 million people. The odds are especially grim in the northeast, where the Boko Haram insurgency, now in its fourteenth year, has recently intensified. Militants are carrying out near-daily attacks, forcing doctors, health workers, and aid organizations to flee. Roads are closed, clinics are shuttered, and communities that were once peaceful have become garrison towns watched over by jittery soldiers.
"If you count five people away, you know a woman who has probably had an issue with maternal morbidity or mortality," said Jumoke Olatunji, cofounder of the Lagos-based Alabiamo Maternal and Child Wellbeing Foundation, as quoted by the Associated Press. For every mother who dies, many more suffer lingering health problems that can last a lifetime.
The crisis has been compounded by a dramatic shift in international aid. The United States, once Nigeria’s biggest donor, abruptly withdrew hundreds of millions of dollars in foreign assistance in 2025 under the Trump administration. According to U.S. foreign aid data, Nigeria received almost $4 billion from the now-dismantled U.S. Agency for International Development between 2020 and 2025, with $423 million earmarked for maternal health and family planning. That support is now gone, and the Nigerian government has had to scramble, releasing an emergency $200 million for health programs. But even that is just a drop in the bucket.
The loss of funding has had immediate and devastating effects. Many doctors and health workers have abandoned their posts, especially outside the relative safety of Maiduguri. In Borno State, doctors can expect to earn just $99 to $156 per month—a paltry sum, given the risks. "There have been times when there were (advertisements) but nobody is willing," explained Dr. Fanya Fwachabe, Borno state sexual and reproductive health manager at the International Rescue Committee, one of the last international aid agencies still operating in the region.
The abrupt withdrawal of U.S. funding caught many by surprise. "We were seriously taken aback by the stop-work order, and we are seriously affected by it because we were not prepared for it," said Abubakar Kullima, chief medical director at the Borno State Hospitals Management Board. With the world’s attention and resources shifting to crises in Ukraine, Gaza, and Sudan, other donors have also scaled back their commitments. The Nigerian government has slashed its own family planning budget by almost 97% in 2025, leaving even women who wish to avoid pregnancy with few options.
For women like Falmata Muhammed, the consequences are devastating. In 2021, she went into labor suddenly in her village of Bulabilin Ngaura. With no hospital nearby, she and her husband set off for Maiduguri, but she began bleeding and delivered a stillborn child en route. The trauma still haunts her. Now pregnant again and living in Magumeri—a town whose main hospital was burned down in a Boko Haram attack in 2020—she must rely on a mobile clinic that cannot handle childbirth emergencies. When asked what she would want if she became pregnant again, Aisha Muhammed listed her hopes on her fingers: hospitals, personnel, drugs, and open roads. “If there are all these, women will not be losing their lives here,” she said.
The maternal health crisis is not confined to the north. In Akwa Ibom State, in Nigeria’s south, another emergency is unfolding: teenage pregnancy. According to National Accord Newspaper, about 15% of young women aged 15 to 19 in Akwa Ibom are affected, with the risks and consequences especially severe in rural areas. Moses Essien, a lawmaker representing Ibiono Ibom in the Akwa Ibom State House of Assembly, has raised the alarm. "It’s unacceptable for children as young as 15 to be engaged in family chores or motherhood when they’re not ready. We must intensify sensitization campaigns to educate our daughters about the right time for family life," he told the paper on August 27, 2025.
Essien is pushing for practical solutions. He has proposed extending maternity leave for nursing mothers from three to six months and introducing paternity leave for fathers, aiming to promote exclusive breastfeeding and better child health. "When mothers have the opportunity to stay home and nurse their babies, we can address challenges like stunted growth and childhood diseases," he explained. But he also stressed the importance of keeping girls in school and instilling positive values from a young age to prevent early motherhood and its associated hardships.
Funding remains a persistent challenge. Essien criticized Akwa Ibom’s 2025 health budget, which allocates just 7.5% to the sector—far below the 15% recommended by the Economic Community of West African States (ECOWAS). While he acknowledged improvements under Governor Umo Eno’s administration, he argued that more is needed. "We hope to see an increase to 9 percent in 2026 to meet expectations," Essien said, urging the government to prioritize health and tackle both teenage pregnancy and underfunding to secure a healthier future for the state’s youth.
The statistics are sobering, but the stories behind them are even more so. Whether it’s a mother in Borno State braving violence and impassable roads to reach a hospital or a teenage girl in Akwa Ibom forced to drop out of school because of an unplanned pregnancy, the challenges facing Nigerian women and girls are immense. Yet, as both Aisha and Falmata’s stories show, resilience and hope persist, even in the face of overwhelming odds. With renewed commitment, better funding, and a focus on education and healthcare, Nigeria could turn the tide on its maternal and teenage pregnancy crises—one life at a time.
