Life was Amazing with My Much Older Husband—and Then This Changed Everything: Part 1

A few months after mar­ry­ing my older man, Kee­gan, I found out that I was preg­nant with our sec­ond child. But this preg­nancy was dif­fer­ent from the first one—it was a lot harder with a lot more morn­ing sick­ness. On top of that, it changed my tastes all together. All I wanted was meat and salt instead of veg­eta­bles and sweets. We had already heard the heart­beat and were just wait­ing for an ultra­sound appoint­ment before break­ing the news to everyone.

At around 11 weeks, the morn­ing sick­ness sub­sided and I started feel­ing a lot bet­ter. My energy was start­ing to return and life couldn’t be grander. I remem­ber telling Kee­gan that I hoped the rest of the preg­nancy was that way; it didn’t even feel like I was pregnant.

We entered the room where Theresa was to do our ultra­sound. She did all of my ultra­sounds with our first child, so she knew us well. I laid there look­ing at the mon­i­tor while she pre­pared every­thing. Mean­while, my hus­band cracked a crude joke that I thought was hilar­i­ous, but clearly made Theresa uncom­fort­able. To change the sub­ject, I looked over at the mon­i­tor and told her about how the preg­nancy recently became easier.

Then, an image of our baby showed up on the screen. I remem­ber say­ing, “Wow, it’s so still.” And then it dawned on me.

Well, it doesn’t look like this lit­tle one made it…” said Theresa.

Kee­gan and I both imme­di­ately burst into tears. How could this pos­si­bly hap­pen when things were going so well? Kee­gan held me while ask­ing her to check again, but my cry­ing made it dif­fi­cult for her to do another ultra­sound. She con­firmed after a few more images were snapped that I had a “missed mis­car­riage.” Despite being 12 weeks along and already hear­ing a heart­beat at our last appoint­ment, they the­o­rized that I prob­a­bly lost the baby a week ago and my body failed to rec­og­nize it.

I imme­di­ately demanded the pro­ce­dure to remove the baby for the very next morn­ing, which was swift and painful. I cried, and cried, and cried some more. All the while, Kee­gan was by my side, hold­ing me close and com­fort­ing me. The preg­nancy crav­ings con­tin­ued on for another month, like a cruel reminder of how my body betrayed me. It was after this that I was diag­nosed with Post-Traumatic Stress Dis­or­der (PTSD), taken off work for two months, heav­ily med­icated, and sent to coun­sel­ing twice a week.

The “tis­sue” that was my baby was sent for test­ing, and I finally got answers about why this hap­pened. It broke my heart even more, and unfor­tu­nately, it was only going to get worse…

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About Vivian

I am 26 and my husband 45. At first, our friendship existed mostly online. I was actually helping my now husband with his dating profile when it dawned on me that he was exactly what I was looking for in a perfect life partner. So, I asked him out and we have been together ever since. We now have two daughters together and everyone that knows us will tell you that they simply can’t imagine us apart, and neither can we. I’m no stranger to May-December relationships—my father was 71 and my mother was 33 when I was born. I have never dated a guy my own age. Anything less than 10 years older than me just seems wrong, and frankly, it doesn’t even turn me on in the slightest bit to think about it. It’s actually a turn-off. After going through relationships with a few rich older men, I finally settled down with my husband. I’m sure there were people waging bets on how quickly our marriage would fall apart, but we’re determined to prove them all wrong.