BuT The price of hope for the women struggling to become mothers
Once we had to accept childlessness. But the fertility industry now urges us never to give up – and for every happy ending, there are many broken hearts
KERRY PERkins sits alone in her car ready to drive to work, but she cannot move. The sight of a mother contentedly pushing her baby in a pram nearby has caught her off-guard.
Her hands are frozen on the steering wheel as the tears flow. she lets out a low wail of grief and anger.
‘Why me?’ she sobs. ‘i shouldn’t be driving to work. i should be at home with my babies. i should be a mummy.’
kerry, 37, is one of the quarter of a million women in Britain each year who suffer the painful loss of a miscarriage. But unlike most of these women, she has endured this agony again and again.
since she started trying for a baby when she was 19, kerry has seen a staggering 15 pregnancies end in miscarriage — including two late ones, both girls, at 16 weeks.
Although it is still rarely discussed openly, around one in four pregnancies end in miscarriage. However, just one in every 15,000 women will suffer as many as five miscarriages.
What statistics cannot show, of course, is the impact upon women’s mental and physical health of years of expectation, hope and disappointment. Yet, as reproductive medicine advances in leaps and bounds every year, women, like kerry, quite understandably refuse to give up.
in past generations, couples who faced infertility and repeated miscarriages would have resigned themselves to childlessness early in their relationships. Around one in five adults has always remained childless, whether through choice or circumstance.
This proportion has been rising in recent years, however, as women delay motherhood to focus on their careers, or decide not to have children at all. A woman in her mid-40s is twice as likely to be childless today as her mother’s generation.
The difference nowadays, however, is that when women have fertility problems they will often endure decades of gruelling, intrusive, painful and often cripplingly expensive procedures as they cling onto the tiny glimmer of hope offered by science. And who can blame them?
couples who have trouble getting pregnant are three times more likely to divorce than other partners. Many women suffer depression; one in five consider committing suicide, begging the question: what is the price of hope?
kerry has spent the past 18 years on this carousel of heartbreak. she doesn’t know how much more she can take. But as long as there’s a chance, she says she’ll keep trying to fulfil her dream.
she started trying for a family soon after she met her now husband, David, a 46-year-old craftsman. she knew that the sooner she started the better, as her chances were not great. she has both polycystic ovary syndrome (a hormonal imbalance which affects ovulation) and endometriosis (a condition where womb tissue grows outside the uterus).
Yet she was still shocked at just how difficult things were. she had five miscarriages in four years — all of them before 12 weeks — and, feeling on the verge of breakdown, took a break for a few years. kerry and David got married and bought a house in Milton keynes, Buckinghamshire, while she concentrated on her career, qualifying as an accountant. ‘i needed to change focus,’ she says. ‘i couldn’t take any more losses.’
Three years ago, David and kerry decided to try for a family again. she was referred to a specialist at st Mary’s Hospital in London, but to no avail.
she has had ten more miscarriages, including the two late ones, in July 2015 and January last year — two girls whose ashes are now enclosed in a pearl necklace which she wears all the time. kerry tried to find solace by going to support groups such as those held by sands, the stillbirth and neonatal death support charity.
‘i felt like such a fool at these meetings,’ she recalls. ‘There were women who had lost babies at 40 weeks. The furthest i had ever got was 16 weeks. But i was still grieving and needed help.
‘When i told them how many miscarriages i’d had, i felt as though they recoiled from me, like it was catching. i have felt so isolated in my grief. i feel like a failure as a woman.
‘it’s been hard as my friends and family have had babies. i can’t tolerate it very well. i’m Ok when they’re older but i can’t cope with small babies.
‘sometimes i feel so angry, it shocks and scares me. it’s so unfair. i shouldn’t be living this life now. i should have a family.’
kerry has undergone treatments including hormone therapy to help carry a child to term. she doesn’t drink or smoke, leads a healthy lifestyle and takes vitamins.
she has also struggled with her weight — not helped by her polycystic ovary syndrome — but has lost almost 4st over the past year.
The impact has been immense on both David and kerry. in addition to the mental and physical toll, she has had to take time off work after each miscarriage.
‘i feel like i’ve not been allowed to grieve properly. My work have not been very tolerant. i feel that with each loss, the tolerance levels get lower and lower.’
so, why doesn’t kerry stop? Or has she considered adoption or surrogacy? ‘As long as i can get pregnant, i will keep trying. My desire to become a mother is so powerful.
‘My husband has been amazing but he doesn’t speak about it much. He tells me i am a strong woman for wanting to achieve our
ream of a family, but that we hould stop the moment I decide s too much.’ Kelly Da Silva knows this feeling l too well. She set up an organiation called The Dovecote to help ouples deal with childlessness nd ‘live fulfilling lives’. She spent seven and a half years trying to get pregnant with her husband Matthew, 37, before eaching the end of her road. nowing when that moment has rrived is a huge step. There are so many treatments vailable today and this means hat women are having to come to erms with the fact that they may ever have children later and ter,’ says Kelly, 35. ‘I thought IVF ould be the answer for me. It was ard to let go. We had spent most of our mared life trying for a baby and we eeded to stop putting things on old. We needed to start our lives. I was 31 but I knew I needed to nd a way to move on. I felt like here had been a huge black cloud anging over me for so long. I suffered from depression and nxiety. I always thought I would e a mum but when that was aken away I really struggled.’ Kelly, now works full-time helpng to support people unable to ave children, while her own inferlity remains unexplained. Many of these women are grievg, trying to cope with a loss that eople cannot see, but they have eached the end of their fertility urney,’ she explains. Yet as tragic as Kerry and Kelly’s stories are, there are the tales of hope that spur them on to give it ‘one last go’.
In April, 26-year- old Kayleigh Wood made the papers after she gave birth to a healthy baby boy having had a staggering 16 miscarriages. Kayleigh, of March, Cambridgeshire, had never made it beyond the eight-week mark but after an operation to remove scar tissue from her womb — left from an abortion she had when she was 15 — she carried her son Reggie to term with partner Toby, 38, a butcher, last October.
‘I thought it was my fault for having had the abortion,’ she says. ‘ I could not stand being around babies. Things got so bad I pleaded with my GP to sterilise me.
‘I can’t say how relieved I am that Reggie is here with me now. he has made my life complete.’
Angie Baker, 40, also struggled to become a mother. She had 18 miscarriages over 13 years before her daughter Raiya was born seven years ago.
Angie, who runs a martial arts business with her partner Lee Gibson, 38, in Lewes, east Sussex, first started trying to have a baby when she was 20.
‘My priority in life was having children. I was working in a nursery and it was hard being around children but I could get pregnant easily enough, so I kept trying.’ In fact, Angie carried on trying for more than ten years, at a great cost to her health and happiness.
‘It was really hard, especially when friends and family were having babies as I just wished I could have that as well. We did consider adoption but we wanted to keep trying. I don’t know how I found the strength to keep going. I just wouldn’t quit. I was desperate.’
The breakthrough came after a friend read a newspaper article about Dr hassan Shehata. he specialises in treating multiple miscarriages, working at the Miscarriage Clinic in London and at epsom and St helier University hospitals NhS Trust.
Angie contacted Dr Shehata for help in 2006 and was referred for treatment. A specialist test, available only in three places: epsom, Surrey, Liverpool and in the U.S., showed she was suffering from a fairly common problem.
Like 15 per cent of women, Angie has high numbers of a subtype of white blood cell, known as ‘natural killer’ (NK) cells, which protect the body from viruses. Because Angie’s NK cells were too aggressive, whenever she became pregnant they mistook the foetus for a foreign body and attacked it.
Dr Shehata’s treatment, using high doses of steroids, started before Angie conceived. But during the pregnancy it was discovered that she was diabetic. high sugar levels caused by the steroids led to another miscarriage. however, Angie felt there was light at the end of the tunnel and resolved to try one more time.
In 2010 she became pregnant and carried her daughter Raiya to term. ‘I did not enjoy being pregnant,’ she says. ‘ Right up until I held Raiya, I was in denial. I didn’t want to do anything in case it tempted fate. I didn’t buy a thing. I was too terrified.’
Although Angie will always carry a sadness for all of her lost babies, she says Raiya has brought her more joy than she could ever have dreamed of.
‘I do not take a single day for granted with her. She is my little miracle. To all the women struggling, I would say, “Persevere with your dream, don’t give up.” ’
Dr Shehata explains that the most common cause of miscarriage is a chromosomal abnormal- ity. Less common reasons include hormonal imbalances or immune system factors such as Angie’s. These can be treated with various drugs, including steroids.
he says: ‘I’m privileged to do what I do. I get to help women who have endured so much loss. But it’s very difficult for the partner, too. It’s important that we remember them in this.’
NhS administrative worker Marianne Berry, 46, a former nurse, had 12 miscarriages trying to get pregnant with husband Paul, also 46. Ten of these came before their son Samuel was born 12 years ago, then two more before they had daughter Amy, who is now seven.
She says: ‘We had not been together very long when I first found out I was pregnant in 1998. however, a few weeks later I was taken to A&e with heavy bleeding and was told I had lost the baby.
‘I had nine more miscarriages, all before 12 weeks, until Samuel arrived in 2004.’ MARIANNe got pregnant after being referred to a specialist at St Mary’s hospital in London. She was told she had the ‘ sticky blood’ condition known as Factor V Leiden, which means her blood clots too easily. She was prescribed aspirin and the steroid progesterone, and carried a baby beyond 12 weeks for the first time.
‘The whole time I was pregnant with Samuel I was on tenterhooks. I would listen to his heartbeat all day. I would get into a panic if I couldn’t find it immediately.
‘I didn’t really believe he was here until I took him home.’
Marianne and Paul decided to try again and, after two further miscarriages, Amy was born.
‘ each year, on Baby Loss Awareness Day in October, I light 12 candles for my babies,’ she says. ‘But we are so blessed. Samuel and Amy are my whole world. I always have it in the back of my mind that this is too good to be true.’
Paul, a car parts salesman, admits he found it tough seeing his wife go through so much.
‘The years we had all the miscarriages were extremely hard,’ he says. ‘It was horrible seeing my wife in tears and pain over and over again.
‘At one point I didn’t want to keep trying. But she was determined that we would get there in the end, which of course we did.’
Ruth Bender Atik, director of the Miscarriage Association, says the way other people react is one of the hardest things for couples having repeated miscarriages.
‘There can be a tendency to move from trying to cheer you up to suggesting that it’s time to stop,’ she adds. ‘This can be very difficult to deal with and may be the kind of questions that couples are having anyway.
‘ “Can we put ourselves through this again? Should we stop trying?” even if you feel you should stop trying, to actively contracept feels counter-intuitive when you want a baby. I would urge anyone going through this to get support.’
Meanwhile, Kerry says she is determined to keep trying.
‘There is not a day that goes by when I don’t cry. I feel profoundly sad and deeply angry at the unfairness of it. But I believe that one day my dream will come true. I do not accept I won’t be a mother.’