It is a claim that defies both biology and logic: a pregnancy lasting three years and seven months. When Zona stood on the global stage of the Dr. Phil show, she didn’t just claim to be expecting; she insisted she was carrying six babies, felt their heartbeats, and watched her belly grow—all while medical science screamed that her womb was empty.

For the Kenyan reader, stories like Zona’s often land somewhere between tabloid entertainment and disbelief. But beyond the sensational headlines lies a deeply human tragedy that resonates with a silent medical reality known as pseudocyesis—a condition where the mind’s desire (or fear) is so potent it forces the body to mimic pregnancy.

As of late 2025, the question remains: What really happened to Zona, and why does her story matter to us?

The Anatomy of a Delusion

Zona’s appearance on national television was marked by a collision of unshakeable belief and cold, hard medical facts. At age 40, she presented with a distended abdomen and classic pregnancy symptoms: mood swings, tender breasts, and the sensation of fetal movement. Her claim? She was nearly four years into a pregnancy, despite having undergone a tubal ligation (tying of tubes) at age 20.

The medical rebuttal was swift and absolute. Dr. Thais Aliabadi, a leading OB-GYN, performed an ultrasound on air. The results were unambiguous:

• The Uterus: Completely empty. No fetus, no amniotic fluid.
• The Tests: Blood and urine screenings showed zero pregnancy hormones.
• The Explanation: Zona rejected the science, claiming she had "multiple uteruses" or that the babies were hiding in a "cryptic" state.

"I am 1,000 percent certain that I am pregnant," she declared, a statement that highlighted the terrifying disconnect between her reality and the truth. Her daughter, Sabrina, watched in tears, describing a family torn apart by a matriarch trapped in a medical impossibility.

The Kenyan Connection: When the Mind Deceives

While Zona’s case seems extreme, the phenomenon of false pregnancy is not foreign to African contexts. Medical literature suggests that pseudocyesis is significantly more common in Africa than in the West—estimated at roughly 1 in 344 pregnancies in some sub-Saharan regions, compared to 1 in 22,000 in the US.

Why the disparity? Psychologists point to the immense cultural weight placed on childbearing. In Kenya, where children are often viewed as a cornerstone of identity and social security, the pressure to conceive can be crushing. This intense psychological stress can trigger the endocrine system, causing the body to stop menstruation and swell—a heartbreaking physical manifestation of a desperate emotional need.

Zona’s story is a magnified version of what happens in silence across many households: the struggle to accept infertility.

The 'Cryptic Pregnancy' Echo Chamber

One of the most disturbing aspects of Zona’s saga was her reliance on online communities. She found solace in "cryptic pregnancy" support groups—internet echo chambers where women reinforce each other's delusions, claiming that babies can gestate for years undetected by modern medicine.

These groups often prey on vulnerable women, encouraging them to distrust doctors. For a Kenyan navigating the healthcare system, this serves as a critical warning: while medical skepticism is healthy, the rejection of verifiable science in favor of online conspiracy can lead to dangerous, untreated mental health crises.

Where is Zona Now?

In the years since the episode aired, the silence has been deafening. Unlike other viral stars who pivot to social media fame, Zona has largely vanished from the public eye. There has been no birth announcement, no documentary of a miracle delivery, and no vindication of her claims.

The lack of updates is, in itself, the update. It confirms what Dr. Aliabadi warned: there was no baby. Zona likely returned to a private life, hopefully receiving the psychological support her family pleaded for. Her story stands not as a medical mystery, but as a somber testament to the fragility of the human mind.

For us, the takeaway is compassion. Whether in a village in Kiambu or a studio in Hollywood, the pain of an empty womb—and the lengths the mind will go to fill it—is a universal language of grief.