Excluding pregnant and nursing people from clinical trials causes more harm than it prevents, study finds

Professor Alyssa Bilinski has found that systematically including pregnant participants in trials would speed up the detection of adverse effects and increase uptake of beneficial medications.

Elizabeth Dubovsky’s daughter was four months old when a routine eye check-up revealed that Elizabeth’s ocular hypertension was no longer under control. Her intraocular pressures—which were stably below the recommended 20mmHg with the help of daily eye drops—had skyrocketed. Although it was unclear what had caused the spike, her doctor recommended aggressive treatment to prevent irreversible vision damage.

To learn that her vision was in danger was terrifying news. Even more distressing was that Elizabeth was still nursing her infant daughter and had hoped to continue until the age of 12 months for the health benefits of breastfeeding. When she asked her doctor whether the prescribed medications could harm her daughter, it became clear that no one really knew.

“It was scary and overwhelming to suddenly be in a position where I was having to weigh protecting my eyesight versus protecting my infant daughter,” Elizabeth said. “The lack of research on how these medications can be transferred through breastfeeding made it challenging to make an informed, confident decision.”

Elizabeth’s story is not uncommon. Of the more than 90 million women in the U.S. who have given birth, few of them could definitively say whether their medications were safe for their unborn or breastfeeding children. This is because when researchers test new drugs for safety and effectiveness, they generally exclude pregnant participants in order to protect mothers and children from potential adverse effects.

“ Of the more than 90 million women in the U.S. who have given birth, few of them could definitively say whether their medications were safe for their unborn or breastfeeding children. ”

But the exclusion of pregnant participants from randomized controlled trials (RCTs) leads to a dangerous knowledge gap, leaving pregnant people with a difficult choice: They may decide to take a medication that has only been tested on non-pregnant people, which may result in harm to themselves or their children. Or they may reduce or forgo a needed medication because of concerns about adverse effects.

A new study led by Alyssa Bilinski, Peterson Family Assistant Professor of Health Policy, and assistant professor of health services, policy and practice and of biostatistics, with Natalia Emanuel of the Federal Reserve of New York and Andrea Ciaranello of Massachusetts General Hospital, investigated the consequences of excluding pregnant participants from RCTs. The results show that systematically including pregnant participants in trials would yield health benefits that far outweigh the expected adverse effects, accelerate the detection of those effects and increase the uptake of beneficial medications. 

It is important to acknowledge the moral dilemma in play here. Enrolling pregnant participants in clinical trials exposes both them and their unborn children to potential risks. 

But Bilinski stresses that, in practice, 94% of pregnant people take an average of three to five drugs over the course of pregnancy, and only a small fraction of these expectant mothers are systematically observed by researchers. This delays the detection of adverse effects and means more people may be harmed before anyone realizes there’s an issue. Conversely, during an RCT, participants are followed closely and the first signs of harm cause the trial to be paused or stopped.

Every time a pregnant person takes an untested medication it’s an uncontrolled experiment. The difference is: in a trial, we learn from it.

Alyssa Bilinski, Ph.D. Peterson Family Assistant Professor of Health Policy, Assistant Professor of Health Services, Policy and Practice and Biostatistics
 
Professor Alyssa Bilinski

“A common concern is that we shouldn’t ‘experiment’ on pregnant people—but the reality is that we already are,” Bilinski said. “Every time a pregnant person takes an untested medication it’s an uncontrolled experiment. The difference is: in a trial, we learn from it.”

For as long as there have been randomized controlled trials evaluating drug safety, pregnant people have largely been excluded, Bilinski explains. That stems from a place of good intentions, particularly in response to the thalidomide tragedy in the 1950s.

Thalidomide was developed by a German pharmaceutical company and prescribed for morning sickness, although it was never tested on pregnant women. After thalidomide was approved in Europe, at least 8,000 babies were born with severe drug-related birth defects. This led to stricter drug safety regulations—including in the US where thalidomide was never approved—that required evidence of safety and efficacy before market approval.

Memories of thalidomide also informed the exclusion of all women of childbearing age from RCTs. Even though that policy was partially rolled back in 1993, pregnant people are still rarely included in trials. “That might feel like the safest choice—but our study shows that, when a drug is beneficial, excluding pregnant people from research can actually cause harm,” Bilinkski said. “Without trial data, both pregnant patients and their providers often hesitate to use potentially helpful medications due to uncertainty about safety.”

In their study, Bilinski and her team quantify both the potential harm of conducting trials during pregnancy (if the drug is harmful), and the potential harm of not conducting them (if the drug is beneficial but goes unused or is used without understanding the risks). This framework helps shift the conversation from theoretical fear to evidence-based comparisons.

In the case of thalidomide, had it “been tested in a completed RCT with 200 treated participants, about 33 children would have experienced severe adverse effects,” the researchers write in their study. Meanwhile, discoveries from the trial “would have prevented 8,000 thalidomide-related birth defects or 99.6% of all thalidomide-related birth defects from 1956 to 1962.”

Similarly, the researchers show that if trials for COVID-19 vaccines had included pregnant participants, and if their vaccination rates had been similar to those of non-pregnant women of the same age and state, a projected 20% of COVID-19-related maternal deaths and stillbirths in the United States would have been prevented from March to November 2021. That’s roughly 8% of all maternal deaths and 1% of all stillbirths during that time.

Researchers also studied dolutegravir, an antiretroviral medication for HIV, for which initial observational data suggested potentially severe adverse effects for infants. This led the World Health Organization to caution against its use in women of childbearing age. However, additional observational studies did not find this risk for infants, and in 2019, the WHO reversed its advice and began recommending the drug for everyone, including women of childbearing age. 

But even as the recommendations have changed, fewer women today are using dolutegravir compared to other groups. Researchers estimate that the low uptake among women aged 16-49 has led to 16 additional deaths in the survey sample. After extrapolating to all women receiving antiretroviral therapy between the ages of 15 and 49, researchers found that the avoidance of dolutegravir could have contributed to 3,228 deaths. Meanwhile, a large trial sample size “could have detected adverse effects had they existed,” the team writes. 

“We have already embraced randomized controlled trials as the gold standard for learning about drug safety and efficacy in the general population. We hope this paper emphasizes the importance of providing that same standard of evidence during pregnancy.”