As someone who typically keeps to herself, I recently faced an experience that brought me to my knees—literally. In a moment of desperation for support and shared experiences, I found myself confused about what was happening to my body, with Google only amplifying my fears. I was searching for solace through the stories of other women, but I soon realized that my own journey could serve a greater purpose.
So, what exactly happened? Life, in all its unpredictability, had other plans for me.
It was an ordinary October afternoon when I discovered I was pregnant with our third child. We were overjoyed yet apprehensive, as this was a baby we had fervently hoped for. Just three days after my first positive test, I began to spot. Unlike many, I didn’t panic; after all, during my previous pregnancy, I had experienced a subchorionic hemorrhage at 11 weeks that led to an emergency trip to the ER. With my heart racing, I remembered the miracle of hearing my baby’s heartbeat after the nurses had feared the worst. Given that experience, I brushed off the spotting as minor.
I had my first prenatal appointment scheduled for mid-November, when I would be seven weeks along. To ease my mind, I took pregnancy tests every few days. When I began to suspect a miscarriage, I reached out to my doctor’s nurse just after Halloween. They arranged for me to have my HCG levels checked, but the night before my appointment, I felt a dull pain on my left side, which set off alarm bells about a potential ectopic pregnancy.
The on-call doctor reassured me that I didn’t have any known risk factors, but recommended an ultrasound to investigate the bleeding. The following day, I was anxious for answers. I had two healthy pregnancies before this, so I expected to hear that everything was fine. Unfortunately, the news was far from reassuring. “I’m sorry, but based on your dates, you should be around six weeks, and I’m not seeing what I should,” the doctor said. My tubes appeared healthy, but there was a nagging uncertainty. I knew my body and the timeline—something felt terribly wrong.
My intuition had hinted at this possibility before we even conceived, and now those fears were consuming me. Days passed slowly, feeling like weeks as I awaited clarity.
Then, one Friday, just before my son’s second birthday party, I received a call from the nurse. My light bleeding had increased, and I felt a sense of relief, believing it signaled a miscarriage. However, the nurse informed me my HCG levels had risen only slightly from 1,400 to 1,450 over 72 hours—far below the expected increase. While she suspected a miscarriage, she also prepared me for the worst and arranged for methotrexate as a backup plan.
Her guidance was invaluable, advising me to separate my emotions from the situation. “This is God’s will, and sometimes things happen because it wasn’t meant to be,” she said, calming my nerves.
By Wednesday, my first prenatal visit was here. I was seven weeks pregnant but felt a wave of dread instead of excitement. After a thorough scan, the ultrasound technician’s demeanor suggested something was amiss. Then came the moment I dreaded. “We have an ectopic pregnancy,” my doctor announced. I crumbled. It felt as if I had lost my baby and, potentially, my own life.
The following hours were a blur of emotions, medical discussions, and painful biopsies. My husband was out of town, and my parents were stranded with car troubles, leaving me to navigate this ordeal alone. I drove to the pharmacy in a fog, grappling with the weight of my situation. I called my husband and then my parents, breaking the news about the pregnancy and its dire complications.
After a long wait, I picked up the medication that would save one of us but not the other. The pain of that moment was profound. I had heard of countless women facing losses similar to mine, but the added layer of my body failing to protect my child was a heavy burden.
It’s now been nearly four months since that day. The physical symptoms have been relentless, with ongoing bleeding and emotional turmoil. Unlike a straightforward miscarriage, an ectopic pregnancy comes with unique complications. The risk of rupture loomed over me, and it was only recently that my HCG levels finally dipped below 10.
Methotrexate is a potent drug, intended to halt rapidly dividing cells. Its warnings are severe, but in my case, it was necessary to address the ectopic pregnancy. The recovery process has left me feeling depleted and stripped of vitality.
As I move forward, I’ve become adept at scrolling past pregnancy announcements, especially those due in July—the month I had anticipated for my own baby. I’m not bitter; I’m merely healing. Each healthy pregnancy is a blessing, and I genuinely wish the best for others, even as my own heart aches for what could have been.
Few are aware of my journey, as it’s not something easily shared. The reactions of others can be surprising, revealing much about their character. Through this experience, I’ve learned invaluable lessons about myself, others, and the medical world. My spirituality has deepened, and my relationships have strengthened.
I’m uncertain when we will try again, as the stakes are higher now, but I’m grateful for the support I have and the little angel watching over me. As I reflect on this journey, I recall a song that captures my feelings perfectly:
“Let it go
Let it roll right off your shoulder
Don’t you know
The hardest part is over?
Let it in
Let your clarity define you
In the end
We will only just remember how it feels.”
For those navigating similar paths, consider exploring resources like this podcast on pregnancy and home insemination, or check out this blog for helpful tips. For more about twin pregnancies, you might find this site informative.
Summary:
In this heartfelt account, the author shares her emotional journey through an ectopic pregnancy, detailing the confusion and pain that accompanied her experience. The narrative reflects on the challenges of navigating personal loss, the importance of support, and the need for self-care during recovery. Ultimately, the author emphasizes gratitude for the blessings in her life while honoring the memory of her little one.