When Monique Farook finally let go of what had been her secret shame, her mother’s response was fast and painfully plain: “Infertility? What is that?”
Those were her exact words, recalled Farook, who spent six months trying to get pregnant, then almost four years trying to convince her husband that in vitro fertilization (IVF) or some other assisted reproductive technology was the way to go. After one failed intrauterine insemination (IUI), where sperm is injected into the uterus, and a successful round of IVF, where an embryo is implanted, Farook finally gave birth to her son, now six-year-old Omar.
“I spent years suffering in silence, crying alone in the bathroom or sitting in my car,” said Farook, a 40-year-old real estate investor in Frederick, Maryland. “This kind of thing didn’t happen in my family. My sister had multiple, healthy births. I didn’t want to be the anomaly.”
The Guardian spoke to Farook and 10 other Black mothers who shared the ups and downs of their medically assisted paths to parenthood. A small but growing number of Black women in the US are choosing medical interventions, including surrogacy, to have children, and the subjects in this feature said they want to strip away the relative silence surrounding Black infertility.
Their testimonies shine a light on what can be a heartrending yet beautiful journey. They also show some of the deep inadequacies of fertility treatments and the US medical system.
“Telling the story is liberating,” said the Rev Dr Stacey Edwards-Dunn, a Chicago minister and the founder of Fertility for Colored Girls, a national group that provides grants to help individuals pay for fertility treatments. “It opens you up: the child may come through adoption, donor eggs, donor sperm, donor embryos. None of those paths are deficient; they’re just different. But telling the story frees us up to carve out space to embrace the gift that comes.”
These interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.
‘We sold our home to pay her surrogacy fees’
Gabrielle Davis, 41 | Florida
A donor egg and a surrogate
One son, Antione “AJ” Jr, four
On Valentine’s Day 2009, when I was 26, my first lupus flare put me in intensive care for four days. The doctor said: “You may want to have a child as soon as possible.” But my husband and I wanted to wait until we felt ready, including financially, to try.
By the time we were ready, my kidneys were functioning at 4% of their capacity. I was on dialysis, but we still tried to get pregnant. You can call that faith, foolishness, determination or desperation to defy the odds against us. In the last of many appointments at a local fertility clinic, we faced reality. The nurses and doctors didn’t coddle me: I had no more eggs and wouldn’t be making any more. Lupus also attacks the reproductive system.
The woman who graciously became our surrogate had been offered up for duty by her husband, a friend of my husband’s, hastily and without her knowledge. Yet, over dinner with us, she agreed. We sold our home to pay her surrogacy fees. It’s hard to wrap your head and heart around another woman carrying your child, getting all the attention. I’ve done a lot of therapy to let my son and myself know that, while we are not connected biologically, we are spiritually bound.
I had to shift my perspective. I had to focus on how God went out of His way for us. There are sisters with lupus who gave birth naturally, then died. I try to show women that there are other routes to take.
‘He treated me like a number’
Cherí Michelle Rushing, 41 | Nevada
Four rounds of IVF
A son, Ethan, six, and a daughter, Capri, 14 weeks
“I wish I’d known about the mental toll it takes when someone tells you you’re infertile and that IVF is your only option – or leaves you in the waiting room for an hour, as our initial infertility doctor did during our consultation. He treated me like a number, not a patient needing some compassion and gentle care.
When my husband and I finally came up with the money for IVF, the first cycle failed. The second cycle was worse. Though that doctor promised not to over-stimulate my ovaries, causing them to make way too many eggs and causing me a lot of physical pain, he did. We realized that he wasn’t a good fit for us and that we have the right to move around, to ask questions.
We tried a second doctor, then a third, a Black woman who discovered that I had uterine polyps and that my lining was too thick. She made us aware of important tests that others did not, testing our embryos to see if they had any defects. She was very attentive and listened to every one of our concerns. She also was OK with doing things my way, on my timetable.”
‘She looked me straight in the eye and said: “This is fixable”’
Regina Townsend, 42 | Illinois
One round of IVF
One son, Judah Emmanuel, seven
My husband and I tried to get pregnant when I was 24, thinking it would be a cakewalk. I’d never made the connection between my fertility and these ridiculously long periods I was having, sometimes lasting two months. Occasionally I’d wind up in the ER – because I didn’t have health insurance at the time – where I’d have to sit and wait for somebody to see me. All they kept telling me was: “Lose weight,” or “Here’s some birth control pills.”
Eventually, one doctor gave me the drug Clomid, without explaining that it’s supposed to induce ovulation. Next, she gave me Metformin, a drug I knew was used to treat diabetes. With both medications, nothing positive happened. A fertility specialist read a blog I’d started about my journey and reached out; he suspected I had polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), a hormonal imbalance. But my doctor was like: “It’s not PCOS because you don’t have any ovarian cysts.”
I left that physician for a different doctor who told me: “If you think it’s PCOS, let’s look into that. You know your body. PCOS presents in different ways in different people.” She also tested my tubes for blockages, and none of the dye moved through them. I was dejected because it meant the next step was going to be IVF. But she looked me straight in the eye and said: “This is fixable.”
‘That diagnosis took me to a breaking point’
Summer Bey, 39 | California
One round of IVF
One daughter, Aïda, four
Almost four years into trying to get pregnant, I’d already had an operation to get rid of uterine polyps and a second procedure to check whether my fallopian tubes were open enough to let eggs travel down and sperm travel up. Neither procedure helped me conceive. So, out of curiosity, I asked for my medical records. “Infertile” was stamped across the file – my medical team never said that word to me.
That diagnosis took me to a breaking point. It shattered my hope of getting pregnant on my own, but it also made me take the wheel. I changed to an insurance plan that covered fertility treatments. The fertility clinic I chose welcomed me and my partner warmly and clarified my infertility diagnosis. The doctor said: “You have endometriosis,” which had done damage to my fallopian tubes.
We did a round of IVF and threw one of those bad boy embryos up in there. Because I was a high-risk pregnancy, they stitched my cervix to hold the baby inside. I was on bed rest for a while, which took a toll on me, my marriage and my now ex-husband. My daughter is such a huge blessing, but looking back on all of it, I wish there would have been more in-depth conversations about my womb health before I came asking for help at 30.
‘My uterus is shaped like a banana’
Rev Dr Stacey Edwards-Dunn, 53 | Illinois
Seven rounds of IVF
Daughters Shiloh, nine, and Saige and Selah, two
Our first specialist told me that my infertility was unexplained and that IVF was going to cost $25,000. (My husband and I wound up spending $100,000 over the years.) After much prayer and some research, we went to Barbados where the cost [for treatment] was $7,000. But our first two procedures failed.
We came back to Chicago and tried a different fertility clinic, where I also didn’t get pregnant through IVF, even though they said I had a multitude of very good eggs. So, I changed doctors again. I wound up with a woman who approached this work holistically and personalized my treatment, because I also was diagnosed with lupus around this time. After doing a whole battery of tests on me, she pointed out a couple of problems that absolutely no doctor, over a period of five years of pre-testing and testing, had mentioned: my uterus is shaped like a banana and I have only one fallopian tube.
If I had to do it all over again, in addition to asking more questions from the outset of fertility treatment, I’d also ask to see pictures of the inside of my body. One of the things that could have been happening is that every time those previous doctors transferred my embryos into me, they were putting them in the wrong place. What that last fertility specialist did was game-changing. It moved us forward.
‘IVF is a bear’
Loree Johnson, 49 | California
Five rounds of IVF
One son, Soso, two
My first pregnancy by natural means ended in miscarriage; my second natural pregnancy ended in a termination for medical reasons. I coped with my deep depression through therapy and what I call my grief tour: Italy, Cuba, Seychelles, Greece, Morocco, Kenya. While traveling, I decided to do IVF.
When you’re over 40 and are closer to menopause, you don’t respond to fertility medications as readily. My first round of IVF resulted in a failed embryo transfer and no pregnancy. Later on, another transfer resulted in what’s called a chemical pregnancy, which is an extremely early loss. By then, I was 43.
I took some needed emotional space and, at 45, revisited things, as I still had two frozen embryos. Our son was eight years in the making and he’s beautiful, but IVF is a bear. Being on a table, poked and prodded, creates a physical, mental, financial and social exhaustion that we don’t adequately explore. Our society tells women: “You can have it all.” That is part of the misinformation. A dear friend was 38, getting married and planning for a baby when she found out that she was in premature ovarian failure. It made me change my own messaging: “Freeze your eggs.”
‘I went into denial’
Latazia Stuart, 46 | Florida
Six rounds of IVF
One daughter, Jazz, 10; twin sons, Dre and Al, eight
In my 20s, I had surgery to remove an ovarian cyst. Afterward, my gynecologist said: “You don’t want to put off getting pregnant for much longer.” I dismissed it. My husband and I were just getting started with our lives, building our careers. We had time.
When we finally started trying to make a baby, my monthly cycles kept coming like clockwork. A different doctor did exploratory surgery to find that I had a huge web of scar tissue on my ovaries that blocked the release of my eggs. When that doctor said: “IVF is your only option,” I went into denial. Each of my grandmothers had had at least seven children. There had to be enough space for my eggs to come through.
Eventually, I did pursue IVF. I lost two pregnancies, including once during a board meeting. With the two pregnancies following that, I spent months in the hospital doing my best to ensure that our gifts from God made it safely into the world. I’m still bothered that my former physician didn’t explain what he meant by telling us not to waste time getting pregnant. And I’m bothered that I didn’t ask what he meant.
‘I wasn’t willing to give up my dream of carrying my own baby’
Carolyne Hilton, 50 | Georgia
Five rounds of IVF, then a gestational surrogate
One daughter, Shelton, six
The first reproductive endocrinologist my husband and I saw suggested we try the procedure that’s a step below IVF, where the sperm is injected into the female [IUI]. The second specialist said: “Nope, jump straight to IVF. Hit it with a hammer.” It took two rounds of IVF to get three viable embryos. I found out later that studies suggest that three rounds optimize the likelihood of pregnancy.
And we did get pregnant. But when we went back for the ultrasound, I could tell by the look on the technician’s face that our baby had died. I have psoriasis and an autoimmune condition, disorders that can make it hard to carry a baby to term. Even though I began to have no confidence that my immune system would do what it needed to do, I still wasn’t willing to give up my dream of carrying my own baby. We tried again, got pregnant, and had the same heartbreaking result.
I switched gears and approached everybody from the cleaning people to the woman who lives at the end of my street: “Would you be my surrogate? Do you know someone who would?” When our frozen embryo was transferred to the woman who became our carrier, she said: “We’re gonna complete the mission.” She lives in Dallas, Georgia, but comes to birthday parties at our house. It’s important for my daughter to know her origins.
‘Mentally, I had to take time off’
Marnae Anita Haynes, 43 | Texas
Two rounds of IVF
One daughter, Joi Simone, 15 weeks old
At the age of 37, when my husband and I married, my eggs were just old, even though my body felt young and healthy. When we started IVF, from two rounds, we got 11 eggs total. Of the five that became embryos, genetic testing showed only two of them to be healthy. That snatched the hope out of my heart, but I leaned on my faith and reminded myself that it only takes one.
The first transfer in April 2022 resulted in a blighted ovum [a sac but no developing embryo], which devastated me. Mentally, I had to take time off. I evaluated whether, at 42, I could keep up with a toddler, a teenager. We transferred that very last embryo in December 2022, and I gave birth to my beautiful, healthy baby girl in August 2023.
I believe my wonderful doctor – who was so invested in my story that she did that second round of IVF for free – and most doctors have the best intentions. But there are things unrelated to getting pregnant and giving birth that I wish I’d known, in case I could have sought some prevention. Hormones used in IVF can cause the ligaments to soften; I discovered that during the pregnancy when my knees buckled. Even after the baby, I have skin discoloration and carpal tunnel syndrome, with my hand becoming claw-like because my fingers freeze up overnight. They suggest that these will go away in 12 weeks to six months. If I had to do it all over again, I’d still take these conditions just so I could bring her into the world.
‘I only had four embryos and they put all of them in me’
Vinnia McCoy, 67 | North Carolina
One round of IVF
One daughter, Britney, 33
I had been married 10 years and was pregnant just once. I lost that baby. After that, the fertility specialist said I had about a 20% chance of conceiving because I had fibroids. And though my fallopian tubes were clear, there was something going wrong when my follicles released the eggs into the tubes.
Shortly after getting that diagnosis, we moved from the north-east to North Carolina because of my husband’s job with the Coast Guard. My old specialist referred me to a fertility doctor in this area. But when I got here, I just didn’t have the nerve to go through with it. I had read about failed, multiple attempts at IVF.
I’d told my story to just two people, including a resident in radiology at the hospital where I worked. Helen said: “Make that appointment.” When I didn’t, she came by one day and plopped a piece of paper on my desk. She’d made the appointment for me.
My IVF treatment cycle started in September 1989. I only had four embryos and they put all of them in me. By December, I was pregnant but with just one baby. Back then, many people who did IVF were hesitant to share what they had to do to conceive. But I never was hesitant. I shared, in a heartbeat, this opportunity to have the joy of having a child.
