The fertility gods smile
After three miscarriages, my boyfriend and I had given up. But then we had an accident. I was in Egypt, camping in the Sahara — an eight-hour jeep drive from any medical facility — when I realized I was pregnant. Again. All I could think about was the probability of miscarrying again, and so far from home. But it didn’t happen.
I’m a travel writer and I didn’t want to cancel plans and assignments for what I figured was just more false hope. So Egypt was followed by snorkelling in Cozumel and skiing in British Columbia. And yet — answered wish upon a falling star — six months later, at 44 years old, I was still pregnant!
Whatever the fertility gods held in store, I knew I had to record my experience.
First trimester
My boyfriend and I delay telling family and friends, hiding my growing bulge with big tops. Going through tests, waiting for results, always anticipating the worst — these early months are so fraught with fear of loss, we’re just spending all our time keeping hope in check.
I’ve decided to go with a midwife rather than my doctor. I made this decision more by default than by principle; I simply don’t want to face my doctor. After the last miscarriage he strongly advised us against trying again; the probabilities, he said, were not in our favour. And while this pregnancy is far from “tried,” I can’t stomach the thought of getting an I-told-you-so should something go wrong. Besides, the midwifery clinic lets me be the needy, nervous wreck of a mother-to-be that I am. I lose count of how many times I call because I haven’t felt — or think I haven’t felt — fetal movement in what I believe is too long. And they always welcome me when I drop in, bless them. Then, as I lie on the examination table with the fetal Doppler reassuringly sounding out my baby’s heartbeat, tears stream down my cheeks.
For most women over 40, the biggest concern about carrying a child to term is probably chromosome abnormality; yet for me, what becomes an even bigger worry is the actual test that determines if your fetus has such a defect. I read over and over again about how amniocentesis causes a miscarriage in one out of every 200 procedures. What a sickening thought: the possibility of losing a completely viable fetus all in the quest of seeking the fetus’s viability!
To amnio or not to amnio? I feel as though I’m stuck in the middle of a poker game with the highest of stakes. After great mental wrestling, however, I walk away from the amnio question and simply send a silent prayer to the powers that be.
Second trimester
No longer able to keep silent, my boyfriend and I embrace reality by buying a crib, a stroller and a car seat carrier. We take a childbirth education course, and I try not to be bothered by the fact that I am by far the oldest woman there. I wish I could say that at least I look young, but I don’t. Despite my active lifestyle, I look my age; I have all the earned creases, wrinkles, bags and grey strands of my generation.
I also don’t want to admit my age. My closest friend tells me I should stand proud and brag about it, but I just want to know if pregnancy makes me look younger. Does the virtue of being pregnant shed years off perceptions of age? Are people thinking, “She must be younger than she looks”? Or do I just look like a woman in her mid-forties having a late one?
