Miscarriage, grieving in secret
Geriatric Pregnancy, uhm what?
Late November 2020, after loosing both my mother and grandma, I found out I was pregnant. I’m sure you are thinking oh how exciting. Slow down darling, let me just explain a bit about me. I’m over 40 divorced and happily remarried with no biological children. The first time I got pregnant I was over 30 and told by a very unsympathetic male physician that I was having a geriatric pregnancy. “Uhm, excuse me mister”! He then went on explaining about superstars like Madonna and Janet Jackson confusing real women thinking it’s a great idea to wait until later to get pregnant. As he rambled on about secret surrogacy stories, in which women were paid to carry children to term for others, I was in my head yelling, “Well, let me apologize for planning out my life so intricately that I wanted to be in a committed relationship, done college/graduate school and have money to take care of the little bugger.” This is one of the first times I was slapped in the face with the reality that waiting until the perfect time could backfire. That first child ended in a lost heartbeat at 6 weeks. Matter of fact, I then suffered 3 baby losses the same way. It didn’t happen how they show on television with all the pain and blood in a bathroom. All 3 were in a doctors office including, the last one, Destiny during my first year of marriage. She was the only one I had named because I had been to fertility doctors and put on pills to make it all work out this time around. Wrong again!
After loosing my mom, grandma and having 3 other miscarriages and surgeries I was plagued with mixed emotions about this fourth pregnancy. There was this weird part of me, well the Christian part of me that just swore my mom and grandma sent this baby down as a gift. God knows I need a win right now so this baby is gonna make it. You know a blessing to get through the rest of my life without them. However, there was a bigger part of me that had post-traumatic stress disorder every time I laid down and put my feet in the stirrups. The world of a geriatric pregnancy with multiple miscarriages is filled with weekly blood work and transvaginal ultrasounds. Each doctor’s visit I held my breath as they measured and listened for a heart beat.
Christmas gift from heaven
Initially, I thought why get your hopes up, your babies never stick. I know it sounds horrible but this was my real thought. I was filled with anxiety thinking once again I will get my husband, brother, family and friends all excited just to disappoint them, yet again. I told my husband immediately, only because his birthday is December 25th and I had planned a surprise trip for him with his brother and sister and law to Florida to celebrate. When you’re over 40, most doctors are very cautious, so I was told to cancel the trip due to us still being in the midst of Covid-19 but flying was a no-no since I was high risk. I was so embarrassed calling family I invited to celebrate with us and saying listen I know you took off work but the doctor says I’m grounded.
Weeks went by and at Christmas, my favorite holiday before my mom and grandma were gone, I was thrilled to tell my Aunt and cousins. However, one my grandma was gone it was as if our family teether was ripping apart and it became hard to be in the same room with my family as they seemed to barely be impacted by my mom and grandma missing at the holiday. I get it everyone grieves differently. It just was weird in so many ways. I told my Aunt and she was excited for me. I kept repeating to her, “I don’t know how to do this without my mom. I can’t do this without my mom.” She seemed as if what I was saying was no big deal, as if the family would rally around me. My cousins and partners seemed very excited believe as I did it was a gift from God and my mom and grandma. Two weeks later, I was at week 6 and due for a doctor’s visit. Into the stirrups just completely overwhelmed, freaking out inside gasping for air the diagnostic medical technician says those words yet again, “I’m so sorry there’s no heart beat.” I laid there partly in disbelief while saying I knew this would happen. I should also mention, I was mad at God for about a year for taking away my Christmas gift. It took me a great deal of therapy and prayer to get over this loss while dealing with compounded grief from losing my mom and grandma.
Grieving in Secret
The first two miscarriages, I barely told anyone even when I had to take time off for surgery because the babies would not dispel on their own. Though after the first one my mom told me about her own she had before she had me. After the third miscarriage and surgery, I told a bunch of friends and many shared they had one as well, many before carrying a child to term. I was absolutely angry, what’s with the secrecy. We were all dealing with our grief in secret, telling no one struggling with inner turmoil blaming ourselves. My cousin works in a hospital and said to me that she could have told me that many first and second pregnancies end in miscarriage. Well, this was news to me. But, why was it news to me? Because miscarriages and infertility issues are things that no one talks about for the most part, especially in the black community. I love that this is starting to change and more women and families are finally be open about the struggles they are dealing with when trying to get pregnant, stay pregnant and deliver a baby safely. It took everything in me when I lost the last baby to post on social media. In all honesty, I didn’t know how to cope. Through all the other miscarriages my mom was my comforter, but with her gone I was lost. My husband was mourning and just kept saying we’ll try again. I was angry because I still wanted a child, but I knew nothing in me could take another miscarriage. I decided silently I was done, but waited awhile to tell him and others as I feared their disappointment. I did what most of us do know while we suffer in silence, I turned to social media for comfort and was lucky enough to find an amazing Facebook group called, “Stepmoms with no biological children - a support group,” which helped me cope with my grief.
Get Uncomfortable, Nosey!
A few years later, I am now regularly open and honest about my fertility issues. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still saddened each time I see a baby or think about my life without one but I’ve come to terms with my decision. I also think with age, and the loss of my mom I really no longer care if I offend people or make them uncomfortable, especially when that’s what they are doing to me. Now that you know my history, just imagine how uncomfortable I might be with the question, “When are you going to have kids?” So, my new response is to make people just as uncomfortable and say, “We tried, but we’ve had multiple miscarriages. I guess it’s just not in the cards for us, but I’m blessed with non-biological kids who call me mom (with their biological mom’s permission).” Oh the faces I get, but you know what who are they to be all up in my vajayjay. I’m not running around asking people, “When are you going to retire?” or “Who did you have sex with last night?” or “How much is your mortgage?” These are real questions people ask others that have me in utter shock. So, next time you are wondering about someone’s biological clock, maybe remind yourself that individuals struggle each and every day to become parents. Not sure about you, but my mom gave me home training and I just understand that some things are absolutely none of my business. My advice, think to yourself, “Is this really any of my business?” If the answer is no, keep your mouth shut and move along.
Written By: Monique Hayes, M.Ed, Advanced Grief Recovery Specialist
