Surprise. Confusion. Heartache. Fear. A flurry of emotions that I never anticipated crashing into my life on an otherwise ordinary Wednesday morning. It was the week of spring break, and my husband, Mark, had taken the day off to spend time with our three children, who were eagerly anticipating a day of family fun. While they enjoyed sweet pastries from our favorite bakery, I found myself in the bathroom, grappling with something entirely unexpected.
I had been speaking with an OB nurse about the menstrual cramps that had struck me since Saturday. The pain had become unbearable, and I had barely slept the night before. Despite trying warm baths, Tylenol, and heating pads, I was at my wit’s end. Feeling embarrassed as a 31-year-old woman calling about cramps, I hesitated to reach out for help. “I should just deal with this,” I thought.
The nurse listened patiently and suggested I take a pregnancy test — just to be sure. “I’m on my period. There’s no way I’m pregnant,” I told her, but she insisted. Reluctantly, I took the test, expecting nothing more than a confirmation of my assumptions. Moments later, she called back, and I confidently stated, “It’s negative.”
But then, I noticed a faint line beginning to appear. “Wait, there’s definitely a plus sign showing. Am I really pregnant?” I was baffled.
In a whirlwind of emotions, I called for Mark and burst into tears, showing him the test. We stood together, staring at the little stick that had always brought us joy before, completely unaware that this time could lead to something tragic.
The nurse, with her gentle demeanor, informed me that I needed to come in for an evaluation. I steeled myself for the worst, fearing the confirmation of a loss, and opted to go alone while Mark stayed with the kids. Looking back, it seems odd that I didn’t urge him to come with me, but I was in shock.
At the clinic, the ultrasound technician’s sympathetic eyes told me everything I needed to know. “Have you ever heard of an ectopic pregnancy?” she asked. Fluid was evident on the screen, but there was nothing in my uterus. Panic set in as I frantically Googled “ectopic pregnancy” and messaged Mark about what was happening, knowing very little about the term myself.
After a brief wait, the technician returned to inform me that my doctor wanted to see me in his office rather than in the ultrasound room. Confused, I followed the nurse through a maze of hallways until we reached a room marked “Education.” It didn’t take long before I was informed that I needed to go to the ER, and I felt like I was caught in a whirlwind of confusion.
While registering, I received a call from Mark. “Hey, how are you doing?” he asked. “I don’t know,” I replied, bewildered. He then revealed he had spoken with the doctor and that I was about to undergo a procedure. “WHAT!?!” I exclaimed, tears streaming down my face. It was all too much, and I felt completely lost.
As I was escorted to the prep area, nurses rushed around me, preparing for surgery. They explained that I had an ectopic pregnancy, where a fertilized egg had implanted in my fallopian tube, which had likely ruptured, causing internal bleeding. My body had been in crisis since Saturday when I initially thought I was just experiencing my period.
In the midst of chaos, a nurse began discussing bereavement options and support services. I felt overwhelmed, and I needed space. I asked the bereavement nurse to leave, and within moments, the room emptied except for one compassionate nurse who stayed behind. “Will you just stop what you’re doing and pray with me?” I asked through tears, desperate for solace. She wrapped her arms around me and prayed for my health, understanding, and the baby I had just discovered existed.
When she gently told me that the baby couldn’t survive, my heart shattered. I felt as if I had lost a part of my identity as a mother before I even had the chance to embrace it. The reality of human creation’s failure hit me hard.
After surgery, I woke up with Mark by my side. He had rushed to the hospital just minutes after I was wheeled in. The doctors informed me that they had removed my right fallopian tube, but I could still conceive in the future. They offered me resources and support, allowing me to grieve the loss I had just begun to comprehend.
Why share such a personal experience? Because I am a writer, and expressing my heartache through words is how I cope. If you’re navigating your own path to parenthood, consider exploring resources like this one for home insemination kits or this guide for understanding embryo freezing. Additionally, this blog offers excellent insights into pregnancy and home insemination.
In sharing my experience, I hope to find healing and connect with others who have faced similar struggles.
Summary
The author recounts her unexpected experience of an ectopic pregnancy, highlighting the emotional turmoil and confusion she faced. From initial symptoms to the eventual realization of her condition, she explores her feelings of grief and loss, offering insights into the importance of support during such a traumatic time.