Photo by: Pexels

I Turned 46 and Passed a Pregnancy Test

by Tonja Bell of "Bell on Heels"
Photo by: Pexels

For some reason I always get a little blue around my birthday. Which is weird because I absolutely LOVE the actual day. I wrote a recent post about 46 being the downhill slide to 50.

This year my birthday took a weird turn though. If you are squeamish about menstruation then you might want to jump off right here, fellas. As women, we deal with it such a large portion of our lives that it becomes mundane. A part of life. Like paying taxes. Or expired milk. It is going to happen.

Until it doesn’t. And with my personal experience every time it didn’t come, I was pregnant. So imagine my shock when my app informed me that I was five days late. Yes, there is even an app for THAT.

This completely threw me for a loop. At this point I decided to keep it to myself. No need to give my husband a heart attack at age 43. He worries about providing for his family and especially a large one like ours. He really hopes to retire one day before he dies. If we ever gets our four reasons for living off of our payroll.

I let it ride. Each day expecting my old friend to show up. Then, for some reason that Saturday, I was sitting in a chair in the bedroom and thought it was a great idea to Google pregnancy at age 46. Take my advice. Don’t do that. You see a woman is born with all of the eggs that she will ever have. And just like everything else in the body, they lose their youthfulness.

After age 45 I read that:

• You have only a 1.2% chance of getting pregnant
• You have a 54% chance of miscarriage
• Your baby has a 1 in 35 chance of having a genetic disorder
• You have a 60% chance of delivering by C-Section
• You have a 100% chance of being broke until you die

I am not going to lie. That thing that some of you guys have where you have a certain number of kids and know without a doubt that your family is complete? Well, I don’t have that. If not for the enormous financial burden that each child adds to the family then I would have absolutely had more. Well, that and my husband said no way in hell were we having a fifth.

But by this time I was uneasy. I would never want to bring a child into the world knowing these dangers. And this is why we get married. When you have worked yourself into a frenzy, there is someone else who is required by the contract of a marriage to share your worry.

I went to my husband. To say he was shocked wouldn’t even be a fair statement. He was more like not believing the words that were falling out of my mouth. Our last child was almost ten now. I told him that it was imperative that he go to Walgreens for a test. Like now. I surely could not do it in my current emotional state. He grabbed his keys and off he went.

It was so surreal to be holding a pregnancy stick after all of these years. I had to read the instructions to make sure they even still worked the same. I know you won’t believe me, but I actually botched the first test. I held it wrong. Or shook it. Or maybe missed it all together. It never activated. Thank goodness he got a two pack. This was not his first rodeo.

I was way more careful the second time. I placed the cap on the end and waited for what seemed like years for the result. And then after two excruciating minutes.

First a flood of relief. Then a punch to the gut. Menopause. More than likely I was beginning menopause. I had always had very regular cycles. Never had I been seven days late unless I was growing a baby. I guess that has to be how it starts for everyone though. There has to be that first indication. The first time you are late. Or miss a period altogether, only to have it return with force the following month. From what I have heard about menopause it can be a long, annoying process.

But did it have to piggyback my downhill slide to 50? I had to let the father of my ONLY four children, off the hook. I returned to the bedroom where he sat waiting and handed him the stick. After seeing the not pregnant and not being exactly sure how I felt about it yet, he just looked at me expressionless.

I told him that it had to be menopause. I was officially old now. No longer relevant in reproduction circles. It was a lump to swallow. He gently said that he would be too worried about my health and the health of a baby if I was pregnant at this time of our lives. And he was not wrong.

I was just starting on a new journey. And like all other tough journeys I have been on in life, I would embrace it and find the most optimistic way to enjoy the ride.

Only later did my husband admit that he had actually let himself go there while I was locked in the bathroom. He had envisioned a daddy’s girl. Or a son that may have wanted him to coach another round of little league sports. Now, a part of him was sad for the baby that would never be. But only a tiny, sliver of sadness. Nothing that a cheeseburger wouldn’t fix.

We are blessed. I am thankful for my family. It is my biggest purpose. I guess I probably shouldn’t go Google menopause though.

Stressed wife and mother of 4. I ❤ sparkly things and vibrant people. Excessively orderly and must laugh often. #blogger #runner #hilarious #gangsta

Like This Article

Like Mamapedia

Learn From Moms Like You

Get answers, tips, deals, and amazing advice from other Moms.

For Updates and Special Promotions
Follow Us
Want to become a contributor?
Want to become a contributor?

If you'd like to contribute to the Wisdom of Moms on Mamapedia, please sign up here to learn more: Sign Up

Recent Voices Posts

See all