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Women Blame Themselves for Miscarriages. This Test Could Change That.


“I’ve had three miscarriages and one ectopic pregnancy and every single time I blamed my body,” says Danielle Campoamor, 33, a mother of two in New York. “My self-hatred became so severe I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror. I starved my body as if I was paying a penance. I spent so much of the mourning process asking what was wrong with me. What was wrong with my body.”

The shame associated with miscarriage can be overwhelming. As a psychologist specializing in women’s reproductive and maternal mental health, counseling patients like Campoamor who blame themselves for their pregnancy losses is as common as loss itself. The women in my office are often riddled with guilt; revisiting every minute detail of their lives in search of the reason behind their miscarriage. In the haze of grief, they point the finger at themselves: Was it something they ate? Did they workout too often? Had they done something catastrophic in the weeks before they even knew they were pregnant?

Having access to concrete answers could change a lot.

At least half of all miscarriages are the result of an abnormal number chromosomes in the embryo, according to The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists. It’s the most common cause of pregnancy loss. But getting access to the genetic testing of fetal tissue is complicated and costly—genetic testing is rarely offered to anyone who’s experienced less than three miscarriages, and can cost thousands of dollars. A new rapid genetic test, developed by Zev Williams, M.D., Ph.D., director of the Columbia University Fertility Center at New York Presbyterian Hospital and his team, hopes to change that. The new test would take just hours to complete, and cost less than $200. Williams expects the test to be available within a year but will need to be approved by medical regulatory agencies.

Campoamor says that kind of info would have made all the difference when she was mourning her losses. “What I wouldn’t have given to have access to a test that would’ve let me know that my body didn’t let me down, that there was a problem with the pregnancies from the beginning,” she says.

A 2015 national survey published in the Journal of Obstetrics & Gynecology found that 47 percent of people who’ve had miscarriage feel guilty, and 41 percent felt like they had done something wrong to cause the pregnancy loss: Seventy-six percent of Americans believe pregnancy loss is caused by a stressful event, 64 percent believe it’s caused by the pregnant person lifting a heavy object, 28 percent believe previously using an intrauterine device causes miscarriages, and 22 percent blame the use of oral contraceptives, according to the survey. “I blamed my IUD. I blamed my decision to use birth control at the age of 15. I blamed my job, my work load, a harmless argument with my partner, running at the gym. I looked for any reason—anything—to blame for my losses,” Campoamor says. There’s no evidence that any of these things contribute to miscarriage but the stigma persists. “Years later, I still have to work to not blame myself, what I ate, how much water I did or didn’t drink. The self-blame just lingers.”

The same survey found that 78 percent of the participants “reported wanting to know the cause of their miscarriage, even if no intervention could have prevented it from occurring.” That’s precisely why this test is poised to be such a game changer. Getting women answers could help dissolve the feelings of shame and failure that so often shroud a miscarriage. A 2019 study found that one in six women experience long-term post-traumatic stress following a miscarriage, and 1 in 10 women meet the criteria for major depression directly following a loss. Bypassing the mystery can potentially lead to a smoother, less complicated emotional journey following loss.

The test won’t answer every question about a miscarriage. For starters, it requires tissue from the pregnancy to test, and doctors may not always have the opportunity. If a test reveals that there were no genetic abnormalities, it could trigger even more questions—and self-blame—about the cause. But even that can be helpful. “In the minority of cases where the cause of the loss was not genetics, it allows us to look for the cause sooner—before waiting for the women to have multiple more losses,” says Williams. “If a cause is discovered, it can be corrected so the couple can have the best chance for success in the next pregnancy.“

As humans, we like to know why. I’ve sat across from hundreds of women and heard the desperation in their voices as they search for a reason why they didn’t carry a pregnancy to term. This test could help mitigate some of the psychological fallout of pregnancy loss by separating fact from fiction; science from a pervasive cultural misunderstanding that fuels self-blame and self-hatred.

“After each loss I felt like I was in the dark,” Campoamor says. “Like I was just feeling my way through grief, trying to hold onto something, anything, before I floated away. Information about why it happened, why my body didn’t hold onto those pregnancies, would’ve felt like a lantern. It wouldn’t have assuaged my pain, but it would have lit a path through it.”

Jessica Zucker is a Los Angeles-based psychologist specializing in women’s reproductive health and the author of the forthcoming book I HAD A MISCARRIAGE: A Memoir, A Movement (Feminist Press, 2021).





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Why Jordyn Woods Should Not Have to Take the Blame for Tristan Thompson's Actions


On Friday afternoon, March 1, Jordyn Woods’ Red Table Talk interview with host and longtime family friend Jada Pinkett-Smith finally went live. In the 30-minute segment, Woods shared her side of the salacious story that’s been consuming gossip media for nearly two weeks: the rumor that she hooked up with Tristan Thompson, the father of friend Khloé Kardahian’s child. Teary-eyed and somber, Woods’ account of what really happened that night seemed earnest and credible—but it also revealed that Woods has internalized the deeply held cultural belief that women are responsible for the misdeeds and bad behavior of grown men. “I don’t think he’s wrong,” she says of Thompson in the interview, “because I allowed myself in that position.”

In the time since the scandal first broke, it seems the Kardashian family has orchestrated a scorched earth campaign against Woods, exiling her from the family businesses and taking to social media to fan the flames. Family friends Malika Haqq and Larsa Pippen have also gotten in on the action, with Khloé Kardashian herself taking shots at the 21-year-old.

As young model and influencer who owes most of her fame to her association with the Kardashian family, Woods is an easy target; while she’s highly visible in the Kardashian ecosystem, she seemingly has little to no agency within it. It’s disappointing that the family would make Woods a scapegoat in their domestic foibles, but it isn’t surprising: Blaming another woman, especially a black woman, for the wandering eye of a partner is a tried and true tactic that somehow always works in society, regardless of the configuration of the relationships involved. Historically, black women are both Mammies and Jezebels; too frigid and asexual to keep a man once she has him, too lascivious and promiscuous for anyone else’s man to resist. The script had already been written.

What’s most troublesome about the entire scandal is Jordyn’s apparent conflict between accepting her prescribed position in the narrative, while simultaneously pushing back against the fury coming her way from the family and society at large. Her willingness to accept the blame comes through loud and clear as she mentions several times that doesn’t fault Thompson for what happened. “I feel like I can’t point fingers and I can’t say, ‘You did this’ because I allowed myself to be in that position,” she says at one point. “I allowed myself to be there.”

Multiple times, she says she was at fault for what she describes as a non-consensual kiss. Despite denying the most serious allegations outright—that she and Thompson hooked up beyond a kiss—Woods accepted culpability for the incident, essentially punishing herself for ever being anywhere near Thompson in the first place. And while she admits she was not immediately forthright about what did happen, she skips over the fact that she should be able to spend time with someone who is, for all intents and purposes, a family member without worrying he’ll try to initiate an intimate encounter. It’s probably safe to assume that Thompson’s version of events heavily contradicts Woods’, but when it comes down to it: Why should anyone believe his version of events over hers? When he’s the proven cheater and she’s a longtime family friend?

Thompson and Kardashian

Hollywood To You/Star Max

Given the way the story has been framed, it’s little wonder that Woods felt compelled to seek out a friendly and, yes, very public platform to state her case. After all, it didn’t take long for the usual trope-laden narrative to take hold in the press and on social media: that Woods was a malicious harpy who seduced Thompson away from his familial obligations, betraying her white friends (and benefactors) along the way. Most of the coverage of the story has centered on Woods: what she did, what she lost, and how the family is choosing to punish her. The memes following the scandal were all a variation of the same warning: Don’t bite the hand that feeds.

Regardless of which version of the story you believe, Tristan Thompson has somehow managed to become a footnote in the story of his own infidelity. It’s a colossal feat that doesn’t happen without the larger context that automatically frames black women as perpetrators of harms they haven’t committed.



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