Pregnant & Breastfeeding Women Who Get the COVID-19 Vaccine Are Protecting Their Infants, Research Suggests
Becky Cummings, who got vaccinated in December, snuggles her newborn, Clark, while he takes a nap.
Becky Cummings had multiple reasons to get vaccinated against COVID-19 while tending to her firstborn, Clark, who arrived in September 2020 at 27 weeks.
The 29-year-old intensive care unit nurse in Greensboro, North Carolina, had witnessed the devastation day in and day out as the virus took its toll on the young and old. But when she was offered the vaccine, she hesitated, skeptical of its rapid emergency use authorization.
Exclusion of pregnant and lactating mothers from clinical trials fueled her concerns. Ultimately, though, she concluded the benefits of vaccination outweighed the risks of contracting the potentially deadly virus.
"Long story short," Cummings says, in December "I got vaccinated to protect myself, my family, my patients, and the general public."
At the time, Cummings remained on the fence about breastfeeding, citing a lack of evidence to support its safety after vaccination, so she pumped and stashed breast milk in the freezer. Her son is adjusting to life as a preemie, requiring mother's milk to be thickened with formula, but she's becoming comfortable with the idea of breastfeeding as more research suggests it's safe.
"If I could pop him on the boob," she says, "I would do it in a heartbeat."
Now, a study recently published in the Journal of the American Medical Association found "robust secretion" of specific antibodies in the breast milk of mothers who received a COVID-19 vaccine, indicating a potentially protective effect against infection in their infants.
The presence of antibodies in the breast milk, detectable as early as two weeks after vaccination, lasted for six weeks after the second dose of the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine.
"We believe antibody secretion into breast milk will persist for much longer than six weeks, but we first wanted to prove any secretion at all after vaccination," says Ilan Youngster, the study's corresponding author and head of pediatric infectious diseases at Shamir Medical Center in Zerifin, Israel.
That's why the research team performed a preliminary analysis at six weeks. "We are still collecting samples from participants and hope to soon be able to comment about the duration of secretion."
As with other respiratory illnesses, such as influenza and pertussis, secretion of antibodies in breast milk confers protection from infection in infants. The researchers expect a similar immune response from the COVID-19 vaccine and are expecting the findings to spur an increase in vaccine acceptance among pregnant and lactating women.
A COVID-19 outbreak struck three families the research team followed in the study, resulting in at least one non-breastfed sibling developing symptomatic infection; however, none of the breastfed babies became ill. "This is obviously not empirical proof," Youngster acknowledges, "but still a nice anecdote."
Leaps.org inquired whether infants who derive antibodies only through breast milk are likely to have a lower immunity than infants whose mothers were vaccinated while they were in utero. In other words, is maternal transmission of antibodies stronger during pregnancy than during breastfeeding, or about the same?
"This is a different kind of transmission," Youngster explains. "When a woman is infected or vaccinated during pregnancy, some antibodies will be transferred through the placenta to the baby's bloodstream and be present for several months." But in the nursing mother, that protection occurs through local action. "We always recommend breastfeeding whenever possible, and, in this case, it might have added benefits."
A study published online in March found COVID-19 vaccination provided pregnant and lactating women with robust immune responses comparable to those experienced by their nonpregnant counterparts. The study, appearing in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology, documented the presence of vaccine-generated antibodies in umbilical cord blood and breast milk after mothers had been vaccinated.
Natali Aziz, a maternal-fetal medicine specialist at Stanford University School of Medicine, notes that it's too early to draw firm conclusions about the reduction in COVID-19 infection rates among newborns of vaccinated mothers. Citing the two aforementioned research studies, she says it's biologically plausible that antibodies passed through the placenta and breast milk impart protective benefits. While thousands of pregnant and lactating women have been vaccinated against COVID-19, without incurring adverse outcomes, many are still wondering whether it's safe to breastfeed afterward.
It's important to bear in mind that pregnant women may develop more severe COVID-19 complications, which could lead to intubation or admittance to the intensive care unit. "We, in our practice, are supporting pregnant and breastfeeding patients to be vaccinated," says Aziz, who is also director of perinatal infectious diseases at Stanford Children's Health, which has been vaccinating new mothers and other hospitalized patients at discharge since late April.
Earlier in April, Huntington Hospital in Long Island, New York, began offering the COVID-19 vaccine to women after they gave birth. The hospital chose the one-shot Johnson & Johnson vaccine for postpartum patients, so they wouldn't need to return for a second shot while acclimating to life with a newborn, says Mitchell Kramer, chairman of obstetrics and gynecology.
The hospital suspended the program when the Food and Drug Administration and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention paused use of the J&J vaccine starting April 13, while investigating several reports of dangerous blood clots and low platelet counts among more than 7 million people in the United States who had received that vaccine.
In lifting the pause April 23, the agencies announced the vaccine's fact sheets will bear a warning of the heightened risk for a rare but serious blood clot disorder among women under age 50. As a result, Kramer says, "we will likely not be using the J&J vaccine for our postpartum population."
So, would it make sense to vaccinate infants when one for them eventually becomes available, not just their mothers? "In general, most of the time, infants do not have as good of an immune response to vaccines," says Jonathan Temte, associate dean for public health and community engagement at the University of Wisconsin School of Medicine and Public Health in Madison.
"Many of our vaccines are held until children are six months of age. For example, the influenza vaccine starts at age six months, the measles vaccine typically starts one year of age, as do rubella and mumps. Immune response is typically not very good for viral illnesses in young infants under the age of six months."
So far, the FDA has granted emergency use authorization of the Pfizer-BioNTech vaccine for children as young as 16 years old. The agency is considering data from Pfizer to lower that age limit to 12. Studies are also underway in children under age 12. Meanwhile, data from Moderna on 12-to 17-year-olds and from Pfizer on 12- to 15-year-olds have not been made public. (Pfizer announced at the end of March that its vaccine is 100 percent effective in preventing COVID-19 in the latter age group, and FDA authorization for this population is expected soon.)
"There will be step-wise progression to younger children, with infants and toddlers being the last ones tested," says James Campbell, a pediatric infectious diseases physician and head of maternal and child clinical studies at the University of Maryland School of Medicine Center for Vaccine Development.
"Once the data are analyzed for safety, tolerability, optimal dose and regimen, and immune responses," he adds, "they could be authorized and recommended and made available to American children." The data on younger children are not expected until the end of this year, with regulatory authorization possible in early 2022.
For now, Vonnie Cesar, a family nurse practitioner in Smyrna, Georgia, is aiming to persuade expectant and new mothers to get vaccinated. She has observed that patients in metro Atlanta seem more inclined than their rural counterparts.
To quell some of their skepticism and fears, Cesar, who also teaches nursing students, conceived a visual way to demonstrate the novel mechanism behind the COVID-19 vaccine technology. Holding a palm-size physical therapy ball outfitted with clear-colored push pins, she simulates the spiked protein of the coronavirus. Slime slathered at the gaps permeates areas around the spikes—a process similar to how our antibodies build immunity to the virus.
These conversations often lead hesitant patients to discuss vaccination with their husbands or partners. "The majority of people I'm speaking with," she says, "are coming to the conclusion that this is the right thing for me, this is the common good, and they want to make sure that they're here for their children."
CORRECTION: An earlier version of this article mistakenly stated that the COVID-19 vaccines were granted emergency "approval." They have been granted emergency use authorization, not full FDA approval. We regret the error.
Slowing Aging Could Transform Society As We Know It
A young woman portrayed next to her old counterpart.
People's lives have been getting longer for more than a century. In 1900, in even the wealthiest countries, life expectancy was under 50, according to the World Health Organization. By 2015, the worldwide average was 74, and a girl born in Japan that year could expect to live to 87. Most of that extra lifespan came from improvements in nutrition and sanitation, and the development of vaccines and antibiotics.
People's lives have been getting longer for more than a century. In 1900, in even the wealthiest countries, life expectancy was under 50, according to the World Health Organization. By 2015, the worldwide average was 74, and a girl born in Japan that year could expect to live to 87. Most of that extra lifespan came from improvements in nutrition and sanitation, and the development of vaccines and antibiotics.
The question is, how will slowing aging change society?
But now scientists are trying to move beyond just eliminating the diseases that kill us to actually slowing the aging process itself. By developing new drugs to tackle the underlying mechanisms that make our bodies grow old and frail, researchers hope to give people many more years of healthy life. The question is, how will that change society?
There are several biological mechanisms that affect aging. One involves how cells react when they're damaged. Some die, but others enter a state called senescence, in which they halt their normal growth and send out signals that something's gone wrong. That signaling causes inflammation at the sight of a wound, for instance, and triggers the body's repair processes. Once everything is back to normal, the senescent cells die off and the inflammation fades. But as we age, the machinery for clearing senescent cells becomes less efficient and they begin to pile up. Some researchers think that this accumulation of senescent cells is what causes chronic inflammation, which has been implicated in conditions such as heart disease and diabetes.
The first clinical trial in humans of senolytic drugs is happening now.
In 2015, researchers at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota and the Scripps Research Institute in Florida tested the first so-called senolytic drugs, which cause senescent cells to die. After the scientists treated mice with a combination of an anti-cancer drug and a plant pigment that can act as an antioxidant, some of the senescent cells shrank away and caused the mouse's heart function to revert to that of a much younger mouse.
"That suggests that senescence isn't just a consequence of aging, it's actually a driver of aging," says Paul Robbins, a professor of molecular medicine at Scripps and one of the researchers involved. Other animal studies have found that reducing the number of senescent cells improves a variety of age-related conditions, such as frailty, diabetes, liver disease, pulmonary fibrosis, and osteoporosis.
Now the same researchers are moving those tests to humans in the first clinical trials of senolytic drugs. In July 2016, the Mayo Clinic launched what may be the first clinical trial of senolytic therapy, studying the effect of the two drugs, called dasatinib and quercetin, on people with chronic kidney disease, which they hope to complete in 2021. Meanwhile Mayo and Scripps researchers have identified six different biochemical pathways that give rise to senescence, along with several drug candidates that target those pathways. Robbins says it's likely that different drugs will work better for different cells in the body.
Would radical life extension lead to moral deterioration, risk aversion, and an abandonment of creativity?
In Robbins' work, treating mice with senolytic drugs has extended their median lifespan—the age at which half the animals in his experiment have died—by about 30 percent, but hasn't extended the maximum lifespan. In other words, the oldest mice treated with the drugs died at the same age as mice who hadn't been treated, but more of the mice who received senolytics lived to that ripe old age. The same may turn out to be true for humans, with more people living to the limits of the lifespan—estimated by some to be about 115—but no one living much longer. On the other hand, Robbins says, it's early days for these therapies, and it may turn out that delaying aging actually does push the limit of life farther out.
Others expect more radical extensions of human life; British gerontologist Aubrey DeGray talks about people living for 1000 years, and people who call themselves transhumanists imagine replacing body parts as they wear out, or merging our minds with computers to make us essentially immortal. Brian Green, an ethicist at Santa Clara University in California, finds that concept horrifying. He fears it would make people value their own lives too highly, demoting other moral goods such as self-sacrifice or concern for the environment. "It kind of lends itself to a moral myopia," he says. "Humans work better if they have a goal beyond their own survival." And people who live for centuries might become averse to risk, because with longer lives they have more to lose if they were to accidentally die, and might be resistant to change, draining the world of creativity.
Most researchers are focused on "extending the 'healthspan,' so that the people who live into their 90s are vigorous and disease-free."
He's not too worried, though, that that's where studies such as the Mayo Clinic's are headed, and supports that sort of research. "Hopefully these things will work, and they'll help us live a little bit longer," Green says, "but the idea of radical life extension where we're going to live indefinitely longer, I think that is very unrealistic."
Most of the researchers working on combatting aging don't, in fact, talk of unlimited lifespans. Rather, they talk about extending the "healthspan," so that the people who live into their 90s are vigorous and disease-free up until nearly the end of their lives.
If scientists can lengthen life while reducing the number of years people suffer with dementia or infirmity, that could be beneficial, says Stephen Post, a professor of medicine and director of the Center for Medical Humanities, Compassionate Care, and Bioethics at Stony Brook University in New York. But even increasing the population of vigorous 90-somethings might have negative implications for society. "What would we do with all these people who are living so long?" he asks. "Would we stop having children? Would we never retire?"
Adding 2.2 healthy years to the U.S. life by delaying aging could benefit the economy by $7.1 trillion over 50 years.
If people keep working well past their 60s, that could mean there would be fewer jobs available for younger people, says Maxwell Mehlman, professor of bioethics at Case Western Reserve University's School of Law in Ohio. Mehlman says society may have to rethink age discrimination laws, which bar firing or refusing to hire people over a certain age, to make room for younger workers. On the other hand, those who choose to retire and live another two or three decades could strain pension and entitlement systems.
But a longer healthspan could reduce costs in the healthcare system, which now are driven disproportionately by older people. Jay Olshansky, an epidemiologist at the University of Illinois at Chicago School of Public Health, has estimated that adding 2.2 healthy years to the U.S. life by delaying aging would benefit the economy by $7.1 trillion over 50 years, as spending on illnesses such as cancer and heart disease drop.
For his part, Robbins says that the scientific conferences in the anti-aging field, which tend to focus on the technical research, should hold more sessions on social and economic impacts. If anti-aging therapies start extending healthy lifespans, as he and other researchers hope they will within a decade or so, society will need to adjust.
Ultimately, it's an extension of health, not just of longevity, that will benefit us. Extra decades of senescence do nobody any good. As Green says, "Nobody wants to live in a nursing home for 1000 years."