Late in Life Babies are a Rich Woman’s Game

God, I hate going to the OB/GYN. 

After my last miscarriage in 2010, I avoided going just because I couldn’t bear to be in the same room with a bunch of pregnant women.  There they sit: all glowing, cooing, comparing notes and blissfully unaware of the storm of emotions welling up inside that quiet 40-something woman sitting along with them fighting back her tears and mourning her losses.  Then, of course, there was the inevitable face off with the clueless medical assistant who didn’t think to look at my medical records to see that I was there for a post miscarriage visit who asked “have you ever been pregnant?” 

Today, I got back in the game and went to a new office and a new doctor in hopes of a fresh start.  Once again, I was sitting in the lobby with pregnant women and their husbands with the choice of Baby or Parenting magazine to occupy my time. ( I think I am going to found and create Childless Mother magazine, just so people like me have something to read at the OB/GYN!  Think of stories I could write: Why You’re Not Good Enough to Bear Children – Take Our Fun Quiz!; She May Be Pregnant, But You Can Have a Margarita: 10 Ways to Console Yourself… the possibilities are endless.)  Other than fueling my sick, self-depreciating sense of humor, I made it through this part.

Then came the part where I had to tell my sad, pathetic story to the doctor. ( I just love crying in front of people I’ve just met. Don’t you?)  I must say I am glad that she was extremely sympathetic and, thankfully, frank with me.  After reviewing my medical records, she said what I expected to hear.  At my age, healthy pregnancies are not impossible, but not common.  Chromosomal abnormalities are extremely likely making miscarriage risk high.  I can conceive. I show no other signs of being unable to carry.  I present no other risk factors.  My eggs are just, well, old.

She told me the surer bet is egg donation, which – much like adoption – is a $30 to $40k investment.  Money I do not have either way you look at it.  

In communicating with Hubs, we both realized that this is one of life’s crueler games.  Men have the capacity produce healthy sperm in their more mature years, but the woman’s contribution to the party is finite.  The eggs have a shelf life. 

I hate to be negative here, but starting that magazine is looking very attractive to me now.   Perhaps the advertising revenues for it will buy me a baby.  Then I could be on the cover (just like Oprah) beaming proudly holding my baby with the headline, “Crossing Over: Our Final Issue.”

I really wish I could end this on a more positive note.  I’ve actually felt much more at peace lately, but today is emotionally messy.  I am brokenhearted and confused.  Where do I go from here?  How do you move on when the sure bet turns into a long shot?  I’ve dreamed, hoped, and planned on being a mom throughout my life.  I never counted on the alternative.   I always had hope, but now I’m not sure.

I think I need a margarita.

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3 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Paula
    Apr 03, 2012 @ 05:54:38

    I so get this. When I lost my first baby and had to go to the hospital to deliver her, the clerk told me to speak up about why I was there in a room full of happy pregnant people. Going to the obgyn about anything- I hate the talks about infertility and loss. I was fortunate and have children, but now I am remarried, 40+, and want another baby. Yeah, right. I totally get your post- and it sucks.

    Reply

  2. Quasi-Momma
    Apr 12, 2012 @ 21:30:35

    Paula,

    That is heart-breaking! I can’t imagine how you felt. I think the staff in medical organizations are so caught up in protocol it blinds them to common sense sometimes.

    Yes. It sucks. Living life after child loss is extremely difficult when faced with others who have no clue what it is like. When everyone is doting around the pregnant whoever or the new baby, I always feel like everyone is looking at me like I’m the cruelest person in the world because I’m not responding like everyone else. I can’t. I’m not there and I can’t fake it. I almost wish I could stamp a sign on myself that reads “I’ve lost two babies. I’m not up to it. Don’t judge me.”

    No one can understand the depth of that heartbreak unless you’ve been there. Good luck and lots of love to you. May you find peace in whatever the outcome.

    Reply

  3. Angie
    Jun 14, 2012 @ 21:34:33

    This is so very true. After 5 miscarriages and now approaching 40, going to the doctor’s office is unbearable. I truly think there should be seperate waiting rooms for the mothers to be, and then one for those not pregnant. It would only be fair…but what is fair in all this. Nothing. Nothing at all. And if you ever do decide to do that magazine, count me in- I would subscribe, especially the article about not being good enough to bear children. It hurts. Beyond measure. And it sucks even more.

    Reply

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