In a room at the Ramón González Coro Maternal–Infant Hospital in the heart of Havana, the cries of two newborn girls pierced the silence with extraordinary strength. Merliah Victoria and Merleth Victoria entered the world defying the darkest medical predictions, bringing with them a story of life, science, resilience—and love.
A Risk-Laden Pregnancy
Their mother, young Yailín Amaro, arrived at the hospital at just 27 weeks’ gestation. This was no ordinary twin pregnancy: it was a monochorial twin gestation with feto-fetal transfusion syndrome, a rare condition where both fetuses share one placenta, yet one leeches nutrients from the other. This dangerous imbalance often threatens the life of one or both babies.
According to Dr. Lisa Ramos, head of Obstetrics at the hospital, only 10%–15% of twin pregnancies involve this complication—and survival rates range from 15% to 70% for even one baby. In well-equipped countries, the ideal treatment is fetoscopy—a minimally invasive procedure performed in utero to correct this condition before birth.
But in Cuba, acquiring such technology is nearly impossible due to the U.S. blockade.
“The monitoring was very complex,” Dr. Ramos recalls. “Our country’s capacity for intrauterine therapy is severely limited—we couldn’t perform the fetoscopy that would have been the ideal solution.” Yet, despite these challenges, the care team relied on their knowledge, experience, and compassionate medical practice to save the babies’ lives.
From intensive prenatal care to a carefully orchestrated perinatal strategy, every step was meticulously planned. The result? A successful delivery celebrated not only as a medical breakthrough, but as a victory of human spirit over attempts to suffocate it.
The Human Cost of the Blockade
The story of Merliah and Merleth is more than a medical marvel—it’s tangible proof of how the U.S. blockade tangibly harms maternal and infant health on a daily basis. From the inability to obtain fetoscopic equipment to barriers in importing basic supplies—sutures, catheters, incubators, neonatal ventilators, and essential medicines—the blockade puts expectant mothers and newborns at grave risk.
Nine days without the blockade would fund the annual import of all disposable medical supplies and reagents for Cuba’s national health system ($129 million). Twenty-five days without it would cover the country’s entire Basic Medication List for a year ($339 million).
But behind these numbers are faces, names, and stories of those waiting—for a cure, a surgery, or a piece of equipment that could mean life or death. The blockade’s impact is real, significant, and deeply felt. It strikes at the heart of Cuba’s commitment to universal, free, and quality healthcare.
Beyond the Numbers
The cancellation of contracts, refusal of shipping companies to transport supplies to Cuba, restrictions on technologies containing even 10% U.S. components, and rising trade costs all undermine the health system’s ability to operate. These obstacles affect not only basic services, but also burden healthcare workers, families, and patients. They erode the very values that have driven Cuban medicine since its beginning.
A Name That Speaks Volumes
Merliah and Merleth carry the name “Victoria”—not just as a nod to surviving a daunting diagnosis, but as a broader triumph: life over limitation, dignity over adversity, and love over sanctions.
Their story is a heartfelt reminder: behind every statistic lies a life waiting to flourish. It calls out for empathy, awareness, and justice—for in each of these tiny faces lies a powerful testament to human resilience and the right to health.
With information from Prensa Latina