If you have read the last post on my blog, or follow me on Twitter, you will know that April/May have been difficult for me. My world has been turned upside down. I will spare you the boring (and disgusting at times) details, but here is how the story goes…
I was so tired and just wanted to sleep. I was extremely emotional to the point of crying over every little thing. My jeans felt tight because I was bloated. My boobs were a bit achy and my right boob seemed to have grown a little. I wanted to eat all of the cheese and onion crisps and all of the cheese pasties from Greggs, and I suddenly hated the flavour of my regular cup of tea. I also had cramps and had started spotting. PMS is a bitch!
“I think you should do a pregnancy test” my mother had suggested, quite a few times. “No need, I am coming on”. “You should do one anyway”, my mother continued. I knew the test would be negative but I agreed to do one, just to stop the mithering. I got a pack of three pregnancy tests from the pound shop as I didn’t see the point in wasting money on expensive fancy ones.
The search was on for something I could wee in. I found a stash of yoghurt pots I had washed out with the intention of planting seeds of some sort with Molly. That clearly didn’t happen. And it definitely wouldn’t now I had a new use for the pots!
I took myself off to the bathroom and did the test. I had a brief glance at the test. One line – it was negative as expected. I put the test on the table while I cleaned up.
A couple of minutes later I picked the test up to throw it in the bin. There was another line. Not possible! I still had my wee in the pot so I took another test out and dipped it in. Two lines appeared on that too. Something wasn’t right. Did we have a faulty batch?
I shouted Chris, through teary eyes, to tell him what had happened. We agreed I would do the third test later on in the day to see what the result of that would be. I couldn’t wait though so I dipped the third test into the wee. That too was positive. I cried my eyes out. I can’t be pregnant; it has to be a faulty batch, or maybe a faulty wee?
I sent Chris to the pharmacy to buy one of those expensive digital tests and another named brand one while I started drinking as much liquid as I could so I would need another wee. Chris returned, I did the tests and to our surprise, they were both positive. I sent Chris out to buy more tests the day after. We did nine tests altogether and they all came back positive. I tried to be happy but I couldn’t. Another baby would be amazing but this didn’t feel right. I had cramps and was spotting so I would be stupid not to be worried.
Chris and my sister were overjoyed. My mother wanted to be happy, but had a worry in the pit of her stomach. I never felt ‘right’ about the pregnancy. I may have had the symptoms but deep down, I knew something wasn’t right.
First thing the next day (Monday) I booked a doctor’s appointment. I told my GP everything. He chuckled at the thought of Chris rushing out buying all of the tests and couldn’t believe how much we had spent on them. The doctor did a blood test to check my HCG levels, and while he was trying to remain positive, his face said otherwise.
I was back to see my GP the next day for my blood test results. The blood test confirmed a pregnancy. But a 615 HCG result for a (possible) 7 week pregnancy was way too low. There was a problem. My GP made an appointment for me to have a scan at the early pregnancy unit at the local hospital. They couldn’t fit me in until Thursday.
Thursday eventually came and I had the scan but the sonographer couldn’t see a baby in my uterus. There wasn’t a baby in my uterus. I had an ectopic pregnancy. I had three options:
- Expectant management – the pregnancy is lost naturally
- A methotrexate injection – which ‘dissolves’ the pregnancy tissue
- Surgery – to remove the pregnancy tissue, probably resulting in the surgeon removing the tube
Though the doctors weren’t too happy about it, I chose the expectant management option. I knew I didn’t have a viable pregnancy but I wanted things to happen naturally.
For a couple of weeks I was in and out of hospital so the doctors could monitor the situation and keep an eye on my blood HCG – which increased with every blood test I had. The doctors wanted me to have treatment. I still wanted to lose “the baby” naturally. Well, if I wanted anything it was a healthy, viable pregnancy, but you know what I mean.
The pain and bleeding had become severe. I was prescribed codeine to help me ‘cope’ with the pain. I knew the pregnancy wasn’t viable but I couldn’t face the thought of having any of these treatments. An injection so toxic it kills off pregnancy tissue and does god knows what else in your body, or a surgical procedure potentially resulting in tube removal were my only options. In 2017 I only had two options. How can this be?
I couldn’t put it off anymore though. The longer I waited the more risk there was of my tube rupturing and the consequences of that are severe. I had to remember that Molly needs her mama so I had to go ahead with the treatment. I had the methotrexate injection. The doctors informed me that 4 days later I would have to return to the hospital for a blood test, and again 3 days after that. If the methotrexate was working the blood tests would show my HCG levels getting lower. If the number was increasing, or not dropping enough, I would have to have another injection. Hopefully that one would work, but if not, the only other option would be surgery.
I am happy to say that my HCG levels are reducing enough that the doctors are happy to monitor me on a weekly basis without having to have another injection. Thank God! I will have to keep going back to the hospital until my HCG is under 25 so I have a ways to go but am getting there slowly but surely.
Unfortunately, this baby wasn’t meant to be and both Chris and I are completely devastated. We never got to see our baby and don’t have a scan picture. We never heard our babies heartbeat, and we never even saw a midwife. The worse part of losing a baby like this, for me, is the loss of a future together. Was it a boy or a girl? What would they have been like? I will never get to see their first smile or hear their first words. I will never get to see them grow up.
Everything happens for a reason, though this doesn’t offer much comfort at the minute. I have been through so much pain, both physically and emotionally, and moving on is the only option. Some days this seems possible, some days I want to hide from the world and cry. I am trying to stay strong for Molly but some days are hard. I know I will get there eventually and it will be Molly that helps me through. She is a blessing and her smile alone is enough to remind me of how blessed I already am.
You were too good for this world, so until we meet, sleep tight my little angel..