Robotic ultrasound: Can Robots Help Save Mothers and Babies?

Alabama, February 10, 2026: Today, we take you to Alabama — a state grappling with one of the highest infant mortality rates in the United States. With rural hospitals closing and OB-GYNs in short supply, officials are turning to an unexpected solution: robotic ultrasounds. Supporters call it innovative. Critics call it troubling. Can technology help save mothers and babies — or is it a distraction from a deeper crisis? We explore the debate. In the heart of the American South, Alabama faces a troubling reality. It is a state rich in culture and history, yet burdened with one of the highest infant mortality rates in the nation. For many families, especially those living in rural counties, access to maternal health care is not just limited — it is disappearing.

A common Ultrasound procedure is conducted in Alabama.

And now, in an effort to confront this crisis, Alabama is turning to something that sounds almost futuristic: robots.

Yes, robots.

More specifically, telerobotic ultrasounds — a technology that allows a specialist hundreds of miles away to remotely control an ultrasound machine in a rural clinic. The scan is performed locally, but the expertise comes from afar.

To some, the idea is innovative. To others, it is alarming.

The debate has captured national attention.

During a White House roundtable in January, Centers for Medicare and Medicaid Services Administrator Mehmet Oz described the idea as “pretty cool.” Sitting alongside President Donald Trump and Cabinet officials, he praised Alabama’s willingness to embrace technological innovation in tackling its maternal health crisis.

But not everyone shared that enthusiasm.

Senator Bernie Sanders of Vermont quickly pushed back, calling the situation an “international embarrassment.” In a post on social media, Sanders argued that in the richest country in the world, the solution should not be more machines — but more doctors, nurses, and health professionals.

And across social media platforms, obstetricians and health advocates weighed in. Some expressed cautious optimism. Others called the idea unsettling. One activist even described it as a “dystopian horror story.”

So what exactly is Alabama proposing?

To understand the controversy, we first need to understand the crisis.

In 2024, Alabama’s infant mortality rate stood at 7.1 deaths per 1,000 live births. The national average was 5.5. That gap may seem small in numbers, but behind each statistic is a grieving family.

Access to care is a major factor.

Back in 1980, 45 of Alabama’s 55 rural counties had hospital-based obstetric services. By 2025, that number had dropped dramatically to just 15. In recent years alone, several obstetric units have shut down — including in Monroe, Marengo, and Clarke counties.

The closures create a ripple effect. When a hospital stops delivering babies, doctors often leave. Nurses relocate. Emergency services become strained. Pregnant women are forced to travel farther — sometimes more than an hour — simply to see a specialist.

Research has shown that when obstetric units close in rural areas, preterm births increase. And preterm birth is one of the leading causes of infant mortality.

As Professor Katy Backes Kozhimannil from the University of Minnesota puts it, “People will be pregnant and give birth in communities all over the place. You have to be able to get to a place where you can be cared for.”

But what happens when that place no longer exists?

Alabama’s proposal is part of a new federal initiative called the Rural Health Transformation Program — a $50 billion fund designed to encourage states to develop innovative solutions to rural health challenges.

Nearly all 50 states that applied highlighted workforce shortages and maternal health as urgent priorities. But only Alabama proposed using robotic ultrasound technology as part of the solution.

The state received $203 million for the first year of the five-year program. Within its broader rural health strategy, Alabama plans to invest $24 million over five years specifically for maternal and fetal health initiatives — including the telerobotic ultrasound program. An additional $309 million is earmarked for workforce development.

But here’s an important clarification.

Despite some dramatic headlines, Alabama is not planning to deploy autonomous robots operating independently.

Britta Cedergren, who directs the Alabama Perinatal Quality Collaborative, emphasizes that point clearly: “No one is using autonomous robots.”

Instead, the technology would involve a trained local health worker positioning the ultrasound device on a patient, while a remote specialist — often a tele-sonographer — operates a robotic arm from a distant control station. A radiologist then reads the scan and sends a report back to the local provider.

It’s not science fiction. It’s telemedicine — enhanced by robotics.

Still, questions remain.

Dr. LoRissia Autery, an obstetrics and gynecology specialist practicing in rural Alabama, is skeptical. Her clinic serves patients from five counties. Many of them drive more than an hour to see her. Many have high-risk pregnancies involving diabetes, high blood pressure, or hepatitis C.

She worries that technology alone cannot replace the nuance of in-person care.

“There are nuances to doing ultrasounds,” she says. “It takes away just the care that we need to have for women.”

Her clinic has been trying for six or seven years to recruit a fourth physician. The demand is there. The patients are there. But finding doctors willing to practice in rural areas has proven extremely difficult.

That is the heart of the debate.

Is technology a bridge — or a distraction?

Supporters argue that robotic ultrasounds could help identify high-risk pregnancies earlier. Early detection allows for timely referrals to larger medical centers when needed. In areas with no OB-GYN at all, even limited access to imaging could make a difference.

And there is international precedent.

In northern Saskatchewan, Canada, a remote village called La Loche has been using robotic ultrasound technology with promising results. There, a trained local operator works alongside nurse practitioners and rotating doctors. A specialist in Saskatoon remotely controls the robotic arm.

According to neurosurgeon Dr. Ivar Mendez, director of Canada’s Virtual Health Hub, the key benefit is early identification of high-risk pregnancies. In northern Canada, maternal and newborn mortality rates are dramatically higher than in the rest of the country — partly because women must travel six or seven hours for prenatal ultrasounds.

A 2022 study of 87 robotic ultrasounds in that region found that 70 percent of the time, travel was no longer necessary. Nearly all patients said they would use the system again.

Patients were often amazed.

“When people come in, they’re like, ‘Wow, technology these days,’” said Julie Fontaine, a local operator in La Loche.

But even in Canada, the robots are not standalone solutions. They work alongside trained professionals. And certain procedures, like invasive vaginal ultrasounds, still require in-person specialists.

Cost is another factor.

The robotic systems, manufactured by a company called AdEchoTech, cost between $250,000 and $350,000 each. While approved for use in the United States since 2017, they have not yet been widely adopted for maternity care.

In Alabama’s case, the robotic ultrasound program is only one component of a broader maternal health strategy. The state also proposes expanding training programs for doctors, emergency responders, and nurse-midwives — acknowledging that workforce development remains essential.

And perhaps that is the most important point.

Technology may extend reach. It may enhance access. It may even prevent some tragedies.

But it cannot replace a skilled, compassionate health care workforce.

The debate unfolding in Alabama reflects a larger national conversation. Rural communities across America are struggling with hospital closures, provider shortages, and widening health disparities. Policymakers are searching for answers — sometimes bold ones.

Is robotics the future of rural maternal care? Or is it a temporary fix for a deeper structural problem?

For families in Alabama’s rural counties, the question is not philosophical. It is personal.

When a mother goes into labor in a county without an obstetric unit, when she must drive long distances for prenatal care, when early warning signs are missed because imaging is unavailable — the consequences are real.

Perhaps the real solution lies somewhere in between.

Innovation paired with investment. Technology paired with training. Digital access paired with human presence.

Because at the center of this debate are not machines or politics — but mothers and babies.

And their care demands more than cool ideas.

It demands commitment.

It demands coordination.

And above all, it demands compassion.

As Alabama prepares to roll out its rural health initiatives, one thing remains clear: technology alone cannot replace the human touch in maternal care. Whether robots become a bridge to better access — or simply a symbol of a strained system — the real focus must remain on mothers, babies, and the communities that depend on them.

Sarah Jane Tribble, KFF Health News. ( KFF Health News is a national newsroom that produces in-depth journalism about health issues and is one of the core operating programs at KFF— the independent source for health policy research, polling, and journalism. (credits - 19thnews.org)