DES: This Drug Poisoned Babies for 30 Years

It should have been a life-saving miracle drug. Prescribed to pregnant women from the 1940s to the 1970s, DES was said to prevent miscarriage and reduce the chances of premature labour. It protected the unborn in their thousands. At least, that was what everyone thought.

It took a decade for scientists to realise that DES simply didn’t work: it didn’t prevent baby loss. Later, tests proved something even worse. DES was actually linked to a higher risk of complications and neonatal death. But still, doctors kept handing it out. They gave it, and women took it. For high-risk pregnancies, for bleeding, or “just to be on the safe side”.

But in 1971, shocking new evidence came to light. Worrying studies linked DES with cancer in the young daughters of those who took the drug. In some cases, the risk was 40 times higher. And there was a cascade of other effects on the children too, including heart attacks, infertility, and complicated pregnancies. Today, it’s estimated that millions of mothers, and their unborn babies, were exposed to DES.

Now, with research finding effects in the grandchildren of DES takers, the world wonders – is this a legacy that will ever go away?

The wonder drug

Despite its scandalous story, you might not have heard of DES. Or, to give it its full name, Diethylstilbestrol.

DES was first created in England, in 1938. Pioneered by the biochemist Sir Edward Charles Dodds, it was originally intended only for the short-term treatment of menopause symptoms. It functioned as a synthetic oestrogen and was around five times more potent than naturally occurring oestradiol, which is often used in hormone therapy.

For those going through menopause, DES helped to boost falling oestrogen levels. It was effective in treating symptoms like hot flashes and night sweats. Particularly for those in peri-menopause, comparatively small doses seemed to have a marked effect. And, best of all, its development had been sponsored by the British government.

This meant that, in line with conditions around its funding, the research had to be made available to everyone. In other words, pharmaceutical companies could take the invention and run with it.

By 1941, DES was approved for use and readily available. Because it was patent-free and cheap to produce, it was soon in bathroom cupboards on both sides of the Atlantic. Seeing its potential, more than 200 pharmaceutical companies manufactured the drug, using various different names. There was ‘White’s Dienestrol’, ‘Wyeth’s Estrogens’, and the Grant Chemical Company’s ‘Des’ – among many, many others.

They didn’t know it yet, but they were writing a dark chapter in the history of women’s health. Already, at least two studies had shown that mice exposed to DES had developed mammary tumours.

The use of DES as a menopausal drug continued for a few years until scientists noticed something interesting. Certain pregnancy complications, like premature birth and, tragically, baby loss, seemed to correlate with low oestrogen levels in the mother’s urine. If these women could be treated with synthetic oestrogen, they reasoned, they might be able to prevent the losses from happening. And so, from 1947, doctors began prescribing DES to expectant mothers.

It was intended for complicated pregnancies – those mothers with a known risk of miscarriage or premature labour. But despite this, advertising recommended it as a routine solution for “ALL pregnancies”. One brand of the drug, desPLEX, claimed it ensured “96% live delivery”. It even, apparently, resulted in mothers having bigger and stronger babies.

These claims were untrue. Whatever the brand name on the box, DES didn’t improve pregnancy outcomes. All the same, the advertising copy seemed to be backed by science. One campaign even featured a quote from the 1949 Obstetrical and Gynaecological Survey: “these statistics are the best that have been reported. In fact, they couldn’t be any better.”

And as far as anyone knew at the time, this was correct. Looking at this article now, DES sounds pretty good. Its conclusions were drawn from research carried out in the late 1940s, by the husband-and-wife team Olive and George Smith. To gather data, they studied patients considered likely to miscarry or deliver their babies prematurely. Among those who’d experienced bleeding, and were subsequently treated with DES, the Smiths said, 72% went on to have “living and well” babies. The infants who were still born prematurely were found to be large for their gestational age. The conclusions persuaded more doctors to treat their patients with DES.

But the Smiths’ research was deeply flawed. Just a few years later, in 1953, another study was carried out, taking a far more sceptical view. This work criticised the couple for relying on laboratory experiments that hadn’t been confirmed by other investigators. In fact, several had conducted research of their own, with findings that did not support the Smiths’ conclusions. This 1953 study was the first controlled clinical trial, and it cast serious doubt on the drug’s efficacy. More worryingly, it found that DES actually led to higher rates of premature birth and infant mortality.

By this time, though, giving DES was a standard part of care for high-risk pregnancies. With this level of popularity, drugs company representatives shrugged off the findings. Their marketing continued, with later adverts continuing to reference those earlier, more positive studies. Even for low-risk mothers, it seemed a “belt and braces” solution. A pregnancy might seem safe, but why not take it, just to be on the safe side? At worst, if your pregnancy was already fine, it might not have any effect. But the drug was cheap, and presented as a handy safeguard.

With hindsight, this was a fatal assumption. Any medical treatment relies on the careful weighing up of risk versus gain. With DES, there seemed to be very little risk, and an enormous potential gain: a strong, healthy baby. In one 1957 advert, desPLEX even claimed that the drug had “No gastric or other side effects”. But that assessment of risk was spectacularly wide of the mark.

Sales reps and advertising won the day, and DES weathered the storm. It continued to be prescribed during pregnancy, and was even added to prenatal vitamins. But from the 1950s, it found another – unexpected – outlet. It was marketed for use in farm animals. Brands at the time claimed it “Tenderizes old birds” and “Feminizes cockerels”. Under the name Stilbosol, it was used as a feed supplement for cattle, to increase their weight. Many of these animals’ offspring would later be found to have adenocarcinoma.

As early as 1950, there had been signs that DES wasn’t all it seemed. According to a Chester newspaper report, a Pennsylvania man had fed the heads of hormone-treated chickens to his mink, which “immediately stopped having young”. The “case of the childless mink” was brought up in congress and debated. Bizarrely, one manufacturer of the DES drug Stilbestrol, Dr Arthur Goldhaft, even admitted to testing it on himself.

“So far as Dr Goldhaft knows,” the article reported, “human beings have not been affected one little bit.”

But even so, in 1959, the US Food and Drug Administration finally banned the use of DES as a growth stimulant in poultry. This was because unexpected side effects had been observed in the humans eating them, including male breast growth. For years, poultry farmers fought the ban, but in 1966, it was upheld in court.

This tangible, human effect was concerning, but not yet alarming. The real breakthrough came in 1971, when a paper in the New England Journal of Medicine definitively linked DES in mothers to rising cancer cases in their daughters.

The “DES problem”

At the Vincent Memorial Hospital in Boston, doctors Arthur Herbst and Robert Scully had noticed a worrying trend. Between 1966 and 1969, young women aged between 15 and 22 had been coming in with unusual bleeding. In the space of four years, seven cases had walked through their doors. In each one, the patient was ultimately diagnosed with vaginal cancer.

This form of cancer is rare. In the early 1970s, it usually occurred in women aged over 50. Today, the British NHS has raised that bracket to 75 and over. Before 1966, the Vincent Memorial Hospital doctors had seen zero cases in young patients. Now, there was a sudden uptick, forming a definite cluster. Something had happened to cause it, but they didn’t yet know what.

Doctors tried to find any kind of common denominator. They ruled out birth control pills, tampons, and sexual activity. When these investigations came up with nothing, they went further back – looking at the patients’ birth records and families. They found other women born around the same time, and on the same hospital wards, who could act as “control” cases. Each of their mothers was given a standard questionnaire, and interviewed. Questions ranged from whether they’d smoked or received x-rays during pregnancy, to whether they’d suffered past pregnancy loss. They also explored avenues like pets, cosmetics, alcohol consumption, and even whether the patients had needed their tonsils taken out.

It was thorough work, and it was much-needed. Around the same time, yet another young woman was diagnosed with cancer, bringing the total cases, as of 1969, to eight.

At the end of it all, one thing became clear. There was an undeniable and “highly significant” association between the treatment of mothers with DES, referred to as stilbestrol, and the development of vaginal cancer in their daughters. In seven out of eight cases, mothers were known to have taken stilbestrol, prescribed between 1946 and 1951. Because they’d been considered high-risk pregnancies, all seven had been given it during their first trimester.

With this information, researchers began digging into the circumstances around the use of DES. They found that, at the time these mothers were given the drug, the Boston Lying-In Hospital had a specialist high-risk pregnancy clinic. Records showed that just at that clinic, within the six-year period, DES had been prescribed to 675 patients. That meant around one in 21 of the births on its ward was for a baby exposed to DES.

But of course, this was just one location, and one time period. The years from 1946 to 1951 marked the very beginning of the roll-out of DES. In the 20 years since then, its use had been widespread. The report, published in 1971, was forced to conclude that “It is likely that more patients with this tumour will appear as girls who were exposed in utero come to maturity.”

Significantly, it said, for the first time, that “it is unwise to administer stilbestrol to women early in pregnancy.”

It was a landmark statement, but for those already affected, it came too late. Among them was 17-year-old Sheila Stone-Brennan. From Syracuse, in New York, she was the original study’s eighth patient. Speaking to the group DES Action Voice, she said that her mother, Penny, claimed all along that the drug was the problem. Doctors in her case were “mystified”, but Penny knew. After experiencing spotting during her pregnancy, she’d been prescribed DES in high doses, given as both pills and injections.

When Sheila’s cancer showed up, she said, her mother “refused to let it drop”. Through chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation treatments, Penny made her daughter’s case against DES. Eventually, she wore down Sheila’s doctor, who approached his colleagues investigating the Boston cluster. They confirmed the link. Penny was, Sheila believes, “the first person to make that connection”.

For almost 30 years, pregnant mothers had placed their trust in Diethylstilbestrol. Now, with that trust crumbling, the FDA issued a bulletin to doctors, stating that DES was contraindicated for use during pregnancy. Controversially, though, they didn’t ban it outright. They simply required better product labelling.

In the US, some doctors continued prescribing it for years. In Europe, despite the fears, it remained in use for another seven years. In the UK, an investigation by the broadcaster ITV found dozens of women who said they’d been given it as late as 1980.

But even as the initial shockwaves continued, another application was found for DES. With the 1971 study still hot off the press, a second study also appeared. This argued that the drug was an effective post-coital contraceptive, or morning-after pill. Researchers tested 1,000 women who’d had unprotected sex, giving them 25 milligrams of DES, twice a day, for five days.

They concluded that “No pregnancies resulted and there were no serious adverse reactions.” With this, DES began hitting homes and college campuses as a form of contraception.

In the meantime, the cancer fallout continued. As the 1970s played out, scientific studies and commentary continued to probe areas of the scandal. These looked at the emergence of further cases, the long-term impact of the drug, and the psychological effects the debacle was having. A 1977 study concluded, tragically, that “The most common problem among mothers was guilt.”

One daughter has described how DES left a “dark cloud” on her relationship with her mother. “How could I blame my mum when she was just following in good faith and trust her doctor’s prescription?”, she wrote. “Yet, she keeps feeling sorry for me and apologizing for all the troubles caused by [it]”.

But for others, guilt was placed firmly elsewhere. Across the US, victims started fighting back. So-called “DES daughters” became activists, forming groups and organisations to get their voices heard. In February 1978, Joseph Califano, the Secretary of the Department of Health, Education and Welfare, convened the National DES Task Force. Its task was to review the “DES problem” and recommend how those involved should move ahead.

One of the main concerns was awareness. Large numbers of mothers and daughters exposed to DES still didn’t know they were at risk. Some mothers didn’t even know they’d been given it – they’d simply been handed the drugs, and taken them. And so, in autumn 1978, the task force sent an advisory note to doctors.

This outlined the potential risk to those exposed, recommending that doctors contact patients they’d prescribed the drug to, and “advise them about the need for follow-up medical care”. It also advised against using DES as a form of post-coital contraception. Not only did they see the risk as too high, but they also questioned whether it even worked.

By this time, health experts had gained a clearer picture of how DES was affecting patients. It was still early days, but understanding had grown since the initial studies of young women in Boston. At that point, DES had been unequivocally tied to vaginal cancer in daughters, but with no way of knowing how big a problem it’d turn out to be. By 1978, there was more data to work with.

Scientists now believed that DES was likely to cause clear-cell adenocarcinoma – cancer of the reproductive organs – in exposed daughters. The likely incidence was 1.4 in every thousand, or 0.14%. This meant it was still rare, but with the report estimating that between four and six million mothers had been exposed in the US alone, it had the potential to be significant. Because of this risk, girls as young as 14 would need to go for regular pelvic examinations, so that any changes could be picked up early.

DES had now been linked to a host of other health issues, too. In the mothers themselves, researchers thought the drug led to a higher risk of breast and gynaecological cancers. And, among sons who were exposed during pregnancy, there was more likelihood of birth defects such as undescended or under-developed testicles. There was also a chance they’d have a lower sperm count, and an increased risk of testicular cancer.

Ultimately, this would be the tip of the iceberg for everyone. As the decades progressed, more and more evidence would link DES to other health issues too.

Perhaps this is a good moment to consider, briefly, some of the science behind this. Why did DES have such a major, unexpected, impact on mothers and their children? As I’ve already said, DES – or diethylstilbestrol – is a synthetic form of oestrogen. In its naturally occurring form, oestrogen is important to a pregnancy.

It promotes foetal growth, supports the growth of the placenta, and develops a baby’s internal organs. But, given in its synthetic form, it essentially ran rampant. It was far more potent, and less controlled, than natural oestrogen. It introduced an endocrine-disrupting chemical into the body’s ecosystem.

As DES crossed the placenta and passed into a developing foetus, it interfered with the growth of its reproductive organs. In daughters, this disrupted the normal formation of tissues, leaving certain cells in the vagina and cervix more vulnerable to becoming cancerous. It also affected the shape or size of organs like the uterus. In sons, it led to congenital abnormalities in the testicles.

And in mothers, the hormonal disruption affected breast tissue, leading to a greater chance of breast cancer. Like the thalidomide scandal, DES was a stark example of the risks associated with dishing out drugs during pregnancy.

Fallout

By the late 1970s, increasing numbers of women had become aware of the issues around DES. But so far, public narratives around it had mostly been focused on the science. They talked about “cases” and numbers. They dealt mainly in data. But as the awareness of DES exposure spread, real stories came to the surface.

Women affected by DES started taking action for themselves. Activist groups, like DES National and the National Organization for Women, had been vocal in their criticism since the mid-1970s. But, as the seventies drew to a close, victims of the drug began taking their voices to court. Individually, and in groups, they filed lawsuits against the pharmaceutical companies that made DES. By 1978, there were between 80 and 100 cases pending in US courts, involving hundreds of DES daughters.

Almost all were unsuccessful; failing even to get to trial. Altogether, around 300 different companies had manufactured DES in the United States. For a case to succeed, a plaintiff needed to identify a specific manufacturer and prove that this was the brand used in their case. So many years later, this was almost impossible. Many DES daughters were in their twenties, meaning meticulous records would need to be tracked down from their mothers’ pregnancies. In most cases, these records wouldn’t exist. Doctors might have prescribed mothers the drug, but not specified which brand should be dispensed. It was a major stumbling block.

But still, affected families and their supporters filed into courthouses. One of these women was 25-year-old social worker Joyce Bichler. Taking the witness stand in June 1979, she sobbed while describing how she’d undergone extensive surgery aged just 18. To treat her cancer, doctors had removed her uterus, lymph glands, an ovary, and two thirds of her vagina.

Her boyfriend, Michael, had stayed by her side, and the couple had later married. “I love Michael,” she said, “and I will never be able to give him a child”.

All those years before, Joyce’s mother, Dorothy, had been given DES for bleeding while she was pregnant. It was said her doctor prescribed the drug because he had read about it in a medical journal and knew “gynaecologists all over the world” were using it.

This wasn’t the first time Joyce had stood up in court. She and her father had been fighting their corner – unsuccessfully – for the last five years. The month before, a jury had decided against Joyce in her case against drug manufacturers Eli Lilly & Company. They’d ruled, then, that she hadn’t “adequately proved” Eli Lilly produced the specific prescription given to her mother.

Undeterred, Joyce decided on a different tack. She went back into court, against the same company, using a new and then-untested legal approach. This time, she alleged something called joint enterprise liability.

This had the potential to be a real legal hot potato. The premise behind joint enterprise liability, as it related to DES, was that women didn’t need to prove which company had manufactured the drug given in their case. Instead, to quote a 1979 article in The New York Times, “because so many manufacturers produced the drug in generically identical form […] all manufacturers can be held culpable.” It was a case of blame one, blame all.

All across America, people linked with DES held their breath. If Joyce Bichler succeeded, it could cost manufacturers millions – they could be held responsible for damages, without plaintiffs needing to prove they’d even made the drug in question.

And succeed she did. In a landmark ruling, the second jury awarded Joyce five-hundred-thousand dollars in damages. This ruling had major implications for the 400 other cases still in the works at the time.

Almost a year later, in March 1980, Judith Sindell went one further. She brought an action against all eleven companies that had manufactured DES during the time of her mother’s pregnancy. The Associate Justice, Stanley Mosk, argued that during the time these companies had marketed and sold DES, they “knew or should have known that it was a carcinogenic substance”. Because they kept making it, selling it, and advertising it, without warning of its potential danger, he said, they were jointly liable.

Leading the dissent, Associate Justice Frank Richardson raised an interesting objection. He argued that although the drug was given, “The plaintiffs were not alive at the time […] They sue a generation later.” In his view, the gap between “the act” of possible negligence and “the damage” suffered was too great for there to be a clear connection. A period of twenty years between cause and effect seemed just too big.

In the end, the California Supreme Court came up with a controversial solution. In cases like Judith Sindell’s, manufacturers were ordered to pay damages based on “market share liability”. Of the total sum awarded, each was liable for an amount equal to their share of the DES market at the time.

Both Joyce and Judith’s cases became major victories for the hundreds, and increasingly thousands, of DES daughters affected. The idea of joint liability was contentious, and verdicts varied depending on the state that a case was heard in. Other countries were also affected, and took different approaches to investigating the scandal. To date, in the UK, there have been no successful class-action lawsuits relating to DES.

In Judith’s case, the opening criticism on behalf of drugs companies was that too much time had passed. Already, she was the next generation of those affected. But the people in court that day didn’t know how great that gap between cause and effect could become.

A deadly inheritance

So far, we’ve based ourselves mostly in the period from 1940 to 1980. But let’s hop forward to today, and the ongoing impact of DES. Because this really is an ongoing impact. DES isn’t one of those medical scandals that blows up big-time and then peters out. It’s a persistent, malignant presence.

And now, over fifty years after the bombshell dropped, we understand much more about it. For instance, we know that for DES daughters, the risk of developing clear cell adenocarcinoma of the lower genital tract is forty times higher than it is for those whose mothers didn’t take the drug. In the 1970s and 80s, it began emerging in teenage girls and young women, but as the years have passed, it’s shown up later in life too. Daughters now in their forties and fifties, who might have thought themselves safe, have found that they’re not.

Past forty, daughters exposed in utero also have a higher chance of developing breast cancer. Depending on their age, this risk can be twice as high as normal. They’re also more likely to get pancreatic cancer, contract coronary artery disease, and experience early menopause. Around a third suffer with infertility.

Their chances of ectopic pregnancy, second-trimester miscarriage, pre-eclampsia, and stillbirth are all higher. Studies have shown that a staggering fifty-three percent of DES daughters give birth prematurely. Among sons, heart problems like high cholesterol, high blood pressure, and heart disease join the list of things to worry about.

Any one of these health events would be tough to deal with. But for those exposed, the promised “preventative” drug given to their mothers has generated a lifetime of health worries. Susanne Massey, from the UK, is one of those calling for an official investigation, after being told her mother was given DES while pregnant. “It’s a pain that no woman should have to go through,” she told ITV news.

“It’s been barbaric at times. I’ve been in hospital for procedures or operations every year for the last 25 years. I want awareness, screening and compensation, because it’s taken some of my life away, and I can’t get that back.”

But for some DES babies, there’s another twist of the knife. If they’ve had children of their own, they may well have passed this grim legacy on. Evolving research shows that the grandchildren of those who took the drug might have inherited epigenetic changes. To avoid being too “science-y”, this essentially means that there are differences in the way their genes behave, which can become hereditary.

It doesn’t alter their DNA, but it alters how active certain genes are. If this is what’s happening, it means DES could affect entire family lines.

It’s reasonably early days for this next generation, so researchers are likely to be watching them carefully. Initial findings show that DES granddaughters are more likely to start puberty later, and may have higher risks of infertility, premature birth, or irregularities in their periods. And, like sons, DES grandsons are more likely to be born with defects affecting their reproductive system. Given that there are now an estimated 50 million DES descendants worldwide, the impact could be catastrophic.

It’s even been described as “the hidden thalidomide”. Another drug that was given to mothers and babies at their most vulnerable, with tragic effects. So why isn’t DES better known?

Well, there are probably a few different strands to this. For one, thalidomide affected the limbs of babies, making it an immediate and more visually obvious form of damage. With DES, it took well over a decade – at least – for symptoms to become clear to sufferers. The damage was hidden, within their bodies. Unlike the concentrated shock of thalidomide, which sparked sharp outrage, it emerged as a slower creep of cases. It was easier for people to ignore.

And of course, the damage caused by DES was hidden in places a lot of people didn’t want to talk publicly about. Medical journals might have used anatomical names, but even in the 1970s and 80s, your average person on the street wouldn’t be shouting about their private parts. This might sound strange, but we should bear in mind that it wasn’t until 1985 that Friends actress Courteney Cox made history by saying the word “period” for the first time on a TV commercial.

But shockingly, even some doctors don’t seem to know about DES. In their recent investigation, ITV News spoke to Helen Westropp, whose mother Hilary was given DES in the 1960s. In her teens, Helen started experiencing gynaecological issues. Doctors found that her womb was malformed; it had developed back to front.

Later, she was diagnosed with breast cancer. But even with these extensive health issues, she told interviewers that most doctors she spoke to about DES, “look at you with a blank face, they’ve never heard of it”.

Now, there are fresh calls for better awareness and education. In November 2025, the UK Health Secretary, Wes Streeting, admitted “the state got this wrong” after meeting with victims. And, in the Netherlands, where court cases once failed because – like in the US – victims couldn’t prove the brand of DES taken, payouts have been accelerated. Dutch courts first decided that proof of individual brand responsibility wasn’t necessary. Then, to speed things up even more, a 38-million Euro fund was established, allowing victims with certain health conditions to access settlements from pharmaceutical companies and insurers.

But of course, there’s a lot that money can’t solve here. Scores of the mothers originally given DES have since died of cancers. Some didn’t know what they were taking, or why they were taking it, but lived with the guilt of its effects for the rest of their lives. Helen Westropp’s mother Hilary simply said that in the 1960s, “times were different”.

If a medical professional told you to go to bed, or to take a pill, you did it. These were the days of “doctor’s orders”. “If he decided he was going to give you something,” she said, “you didn’t question it.”

A legacy without end

During the 1970s, medical studies took a “snapshot view” of how the people exposed to DES were faring. Twenty years later, the National Cancer Institute once again tracked the health of the same group of subjects. As you’d expect, its report is data-led; full of percentages and statistics.

But beneath all the numbers, the institute found that the drug could be associated with a “high lifetime risk” of a broad spectrum of issues. “The toll of the devastating health effects is unprecedented,” researchers said, “particularly since DES was given to healthy individuals.” In the year 2000, DES was formally, finally, classified as carcinogenic to humans.

Today, its use is strictly limited. In some countries, it can still be prescribed, but is used only to treat certain types of cancer, like prostate cancer, or breast cancer in post-menopausal women. Its use is only green-lit in the management of malignant diseases. Cases where the potential reward outweighs the risk.

Looking at the fallout of any medical disaster, we can get caught up in this far-removed view. Language is medicalised, people are cases or “subjects”, and the impact on their lives is only an “outcome”. It’s easy to gloss over the fact that each of those subjects and outcomes represents a real person, with a real life.

The story of DES is a disaster, but it’s also a bona-fide medical scandal. The people who created it, and later “discovered” its use in pregnancy, clearly didn’t expect its name to become the central character in such a dark tale. But all the same, there were times it could have been stopped – and wasn’t.

And of course, this is a story that’s far from over. Affected sons, daughters and grandchildren keep testing, and waiting, and hoping. DES hangs over whole families as a shadowy figure that might emerge at any time. Even if we’d never heard of it, for them, the devastation it creates just keeps coming back.

Key Takeaways

• DES was prescribed to pregnant women from 1947 to 1971 despite a 1953 study showing it increased premature birth and infant mortality.
• In 1971, DES was linked to vaginal cancer in daughters, with risk up to 40 times higher; millions of mothers and babies were exposed.
• DES daughters face elevated risks of clear cell adenocarcinoma, breast cancer, infertility, premature birth, and heart disease throughout life.
• Research now suggests DES caused epigenetic changes that may affect grandchildren, including reproductive abnormalities and delayed puberty.
• Landmark US lawsuits established joint enterprise and market share liability, while the Netherlands created a 38-million Euro compensation fund for victims.

Frequently Asked Questions

What was DES originally intended to treat?

DES was originally intended only for the short-term treatment of menopause symptoms. It was pioneered by biochemist Sir Edward Charles Dodds and functioned as a synthetic oestrogen that was around five times more potent than naturally occurring oestradiol.

When was DES first prescribed to pregnant women, and why?

From 1947, doctors began prescribing DES to expectant mothers because scientists noticed that certain pregnancy complications like premature birth and baby loss seemed to correlate with low oestrogen levels in the mother’s urine. They reasoned that treating women with synthetic oestrogen might prevent these losses.

What did the 1953 study find about DES?

The 1953 study was the first controlled clinical trial and cast serious doubt on DES’s efficacy. It found that DES actually led to higher rates of premature birth and infant mortality, contradicting earlier claims that the drug prevented pregnancy complications.

What was the landmark 1971 discovery about DES?

In 1971, a paper in the New England Journal of Medicine definitively linked DES in mothers to rising cancer cases in their daughters. Doctors Arthur Herbst and Robert Scully at Vincent Memorial Hospital in Boston found a highly significant association between mothers treated with DES (stilbestrol) and the development of vaginal cancer in their daughters.

What legal approach did Joyce Bichler use to successfully sue DES manufacturers?

Joyce Bichler used a legal approach called joint enterprise liability, which meant women didn’t need to prove which specific company had manufactured the drug given in their case. Because so many manufacturers produced the drug in generically identical form, all manufacturers could be held culpable. In 1979, a jury awarded her $500,000 in damages.

What is market share liability, and how was it applied in DES cases?

Market share liability was a controversial solution developed by the California Supreme Court in Judith Sindell’s case. Manufacturers were ordered to pay damages based on their share of the DES market at the time, meaning each company was liable for an amount equal to their market share rather than requiring plaintiffs to prove which specific brand was used.

What health risks do DES daughters face?

DES daughters face a risk of developing clear cell adenocarcinoma of the lower genital tract that is forty times higher than those whose mothers didn’t take the drug. They also have higher chances of breast cancer (twice as high past age forty), pancreatic cancer, coronary artery disease, early menopause, infertility, ectopic pregnancy, second-trimester miscarriage, pre-eclampsia, stillbirth, and premature birth (53% give birth prematurely).

What effects are being found in the grandchildren of DES takers?

Evolving research shows that DES grandchildren might have inherited epigenetic changes—differences in how their genes behave that can become hereditary without altering DNA. DES granddaughters are more likely to start puberty later and may have higher risks of infertility, premature birth, or irregular periods. DES grandsons are more likely to be born with defects affecting their reproductive system.

Why has DES been called ‘the hidden thalidomide’?

DES has been called ‘the hidden thalidomide’ because, like thalidomide, it was given to mothers and babies at their most vulnerable with tragic effects. However, unlike thalidomide—which caused immediate, visually obvious limb damage—DES damage was hidden within bodies and took well over a decade for symptoms to become clear. The slower emergence of cases made it easier for people to ignore.

What did the UK Health Secretary admit about DES in 2025?

In November 2025, UK Health Secretary Wes Streeting admitted ‘the state got this wrong’ after meeting with DES victims. This came amid fresh calls for better awareness and education about the drug’s lasting effects.

Sources

• Original Into the Shadows video: DES: This Drug Poisoned Babies for 30 Years
• Hero image source by P. Horálek/ESO / openverse, by.

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