A Mature Mom's Journey | My Mompreneur

9 years ago
This article was written by a member of the SheKnows Community. It has not been edited, vetted or reviewed by our editorial staff, and any opinions expressed herein are the writer’s own.

Four doctors told me that I would never have children. “You’re
thirty?” they would ask with a certain measure of pity in their voices,
at least in my perception. “And you’re single?” would typically be the
following question. “You should consider having children right away if
you want to have kids at all.” Yes, I’m paraphrasing but that was
pretty darned close to what these medical experts would say to me as if
they didn’t just hear me say that I was single. No, not a newly wed,
not engaged, not even dating, not even having casual sex! No, nothing,
nada. “Tisk, tisk, tisk” is what I imagined would be in the thought
bubble above their Ph.d heads.

100_0042Hysterectomy? They prescribe those like aspirin you know. Easy, as
if to say “Well, you’re not using it anyway.” Sadly, I left the fourth
doctor’s office resigned to the fact that with my current dating status
of “she’s not getting any” and the grapefruit sized fibroids growing in
my uterus I was doomed to never give birth. Driving home on interstate
15 felt like the green mile. Didn’t those unsympathetic doctors know
that they might have well given me a death sentence? After crying on my
mother’s sofa for hours she made a phone call that would turn my life
around. She called our good friend and nurse who referred us to a
fertility specialist at UCSD.

I thought it was weird at first, to be going to a fertility
specialist, but he explained that since his job was to make sure that I
could conceive he could remove the growths that were taking over my
uterus without leaving me barren. It was a difficult journey which
resulted in a miraculous reconstruction made of latex but it was well
worth it.

No, I didn’t just run out and find the next unsuspecting male on the
street to knock me up, but finding my son’s father came soon after
that. Recovering from the loss of my father, I opted for a vacation
outside of the country to help set my mind straight. My cousin had
invited me to a wedding that she and her husband were attending in
Gambia, West Africa. I had always wanted to travel to Africa so I
bought my ticket before they had a chance to change their minds.

The trip took 28 hours for us to get there. This was no club med
vacation, it was a leave your pride and prejudice at the airport but
don’t forget your toilet paper kind of a trip. I’ve never been so hot,
tired, or dirty in my life but it was the most unbelievably wonderful
adventure I had ever been on. When we arrived we were greeted by the
bride and she and I were sisters from an instant. She showed us her
home and a little of her country before taking us to the bridal dinner.

abc_mont_chicken-suitThat’s where I met “him.” He was standing on the opposite side of
the room and smiling at me and I couldn’t keep my eyes off of him.
Sadly, with all of the excitement of the impending wedding and our new
arrival I was unable to make his acquaintance. Later that evening at
the home of the bride and groom he arrived. I was breathless as he
spoke and introduced himself. We spent the entire two weeks that I was
in Gambia as if we were joined at the hip and my last day could have
never been harder.

months of phone calls and emails, I returned to the Gambia where I got
married. My new husband followed me back to the states several months
later where we started our lives together. I didn’t get pregnant right
away, if fact it took three and a half years. Those old voices of
doctors gone started creeping into my dreams to tell me that I would
never get pregnant.

Then it happened, December 23, 2004 I confirmed what I already knew
in my heart; I was pregnant. Things had already started to go south for
old hubby and I and I was sure that if I lost this one I would not be
having a family for sure. Sure enough, three months later my whorl wind
romance was gone, but he left the best of him with me waiting to be


had been a hard pregnancy, the fibroids were back and causing him
growth restriction; I was over thirty-five, so of course the doctors
warned (constantly) that he might be a downs baby; His umbilical cord
had an abnormality which heightened their concerns for his mental
aquity; and I had developed asthma.  There was terror, fright, and
worry every time I went to the doctor and to top everything off, I was
getting a divorce.

My son was born on August 18, 2005 weighing in at five pounds and
seven ounces. He had all of his fingers and toes and passed his Apgar
test with flying colors. He’s just shy of four now and of course the
apple of my eye. I thank God every day for this wonderful blessing he
bestowed upon me. He’s proven the doctor’s predictions embarrasingly
false with his amazing intelligence and strong will.

There are some days when I feel like being a parent is unbarably
hard. I certainly understand why God didn’t intend for this to be the
job of just one person. But I remeber the prayers that I said so many
months, years, ago and recall that this person is nothing short of a
miracle. He says his prayers every night “…God bless Grandma, God bless
Mommy, God bless Isaiah, Amen. I love you mommy, see you in the
morning, bye”.