Let me introduce myself. I am 30 years old, wife to a wonderful man and mother to a beautiful daughter, aged 5. I am very happy and blessed with what I have, but just like most of us, I desperately yearned for that little bit more. My husband and I married 4 years ago with the intention of completing our family and having another child soon after the wedding. Unfortunately, I had previously made the uninformed choice of using a contraceptive which would direly affect my future fertility. This led to waiting 18 months for my periods to return and then wait a further 18 months before I started to ovulate regularly; looking back at that time now it was excruciating thinking every month ‘could I be pregnant anyway?’, hoping desperately that a pregnancy would surprise me. I hoped that all the prodding, poking and prescribing from the doctors wasn’t required and I’d prove them wrong and get pregnant when we were all least expecting it. After the 3 year mark, we decided that we would cease all medical intervention. It was getting us nowhere - my body was doing what it wanted to, and in its own time, regardless of what treatment I had. So, since May 2010 we stopped the appointments and put a halt to the associated stress.
My pregnancy story starts much more recently. We moved house in February 2011, the relocation was not straight forward and I knew we were all stressed about settling into a new area and the worries that came with it. My period did not arrive in March, but what I got was a little spotting for one day. A week later I had another day of spotting. I didn’t get excited about taking a HPT because I had taken so many negative tests before and I knew that stress was a major factor for disrupting a regular cycle. I took the test some time in the afternoon to get it out of the way and wasn’t surprised that it was negative too.
Weeks passed and I was feeling unwell; I definitely didn’t feel pregnant. I felt dizzy and my head was pounding daily, I convinced myself I was dehydrated and should drink more water. My tummy ached and I was tender, I convinced myself it was period pain and maybe I was a bit more flatulent than usual. My breasts were sore, but I would often get this before a period too. I cried and cried when I was by myself, but I thought this was due to the recent upheaval and the rejection of not finding new employment quickly. Five weeks after the negative HPT, I broke down in front of my husband and said I felt awful, I was going to admit defeat and go to the doctor’s surgery as now I was worried there was something wrong with me. He was very supportive and said I should make an appointment that day. I went to the chemist before the doctors and took a HPT home to rule out this possibility before making an appointment. To my utter surprise, it was positive. I never thought I would see ‘pregnant’ on that digital screen. I was surprised, shocked and, most of all, worried. As I said before, I didn’t feel pregnant. I had been waiting for that feeling for years and it never came, even now when I was pregnant. Something was wrong.
I rang the doctor’s and explained that I needed to book in with a midwife. When they asked how long since my last period and I stated approximately 10 - 11 weeks, they were kind enough to get me booked in within a couple of days. The midwife came and said I should be referred for my dating scan immediately to check my dates and ensure that everything was ok. Unfortunately, the hospital weren’t so keen to get me in quickly, so after 5 days I rang to query when I would be going in and they had misplaced my paperwork but could book me in a few days later, on Friday 13th May. I took the appointment and looked forward to the acknowledgement and reassurance that the scan would bring. I hoped that my nerves would subside and we could dream about having another child, imagine my daughter having a sibling. My husband’s feet hadn’t touched the ground since I told him I was pregnant, he was over the moon and nothing could bring him down. I was much more cautious.
The day of the scan came and I felt hopeful for the first time, I walked into the hospital with a positive feeling, imagining holding the pictures of our baby on our way later that day. However, the moment the sonographer started to scan my uterus I knew something was really wrong. Almost instantly, she said there was nothing there. She continued to look whilst I insisted I was pregnant. I became overcome with emotion, the tears were coming thick and fast and I felt I couldn’t breathe. Little did I know that the worst was to come. She stated that I needed an internal scan and then it ‘clicked’. I had internal scans through my fertility treatment and knew this was the best way to look at the ovaries and tubes. I was scared and said I hated internal scans, so she gave me 5 minutes to gather myself. I held my husband’s hand so tightly and allowed her to proceed. When the clear picture of our baby came up on the screen, I instantly looked away. I didn’t want to see what I knew we couldn’t have. She quickly confirmed she was dealing with a case of ‘live ectopic’ in my left fallopian tube. My poor husband had no idea what this meant, so when she said I would need immediate treatment, the dread and fear came over me and he was left wondering what was happening to our baby. By this point, my hysterical crying had been stopped by the shock and realisation of what was going to happen to me.
We were taken to see the midwife, gynaecologist, anaesthetist and surgeon in quick succession and within an hour or two of leaving the scan room, I was being wheeled into theatre with drips in my arm and preparing to go under the knife. I can honestly say it was the most petrifying time of my life, all of the medical professionals seemed so concerned that my tube was going to rupture at any moment and there was an air of panic surrounding me. At this point I was terrified, but I was so grateful that I was there and they knew what was wrong and they could fix it. The picture of the baby on the scan couldn’t have been further from my mind at that time, all I could think of was my daughter and making sure I was ok for her.
I came round from the operation in agony. They had chosen to do a laparotomy instead of a laparoscopy. I don’t know what I expected - it was all such a rush beforehand that my post-operative feelings were not even considered. The surgeon came with good news, of sorts. He stated that that foetus has self-aborted by the time he had opened me up and dislodged from the end of my left fallopian tube where it had previously been growing. All that was left for the surgeon to do was some ‘cleaning up’, but my tube had been unaffected and looked to be in healthy order. My other tube and both ovaries were also checked and confirmed to look healthy too. The reason for the ectopic was unexplained. In the surgeons terms, I was a very lucky lady apparently.
After a night spent awake in hospital, I was allowed home the following day. I desperately wanted to go home to be in my own bed with my husband, but did question whether I was in a suitable physical state to be leaving hospital. I found walking to the car fairly painful despite being fully dosed up on painkillers. As I arrived home, my daughter was overjoyed to see me, but the sight of her coming towards me made me feel vulnerable and incapable of being near her. Once again, I was overcome with emotion and needed to get away from everyone but my poor little 5 year old desperately wanted to just hug her mummy. Thank goodness my mum volunteered to take her home for the second night running to give us some space. I really didn’t want her to see me like that, but I wasn’t in a place where I could hide what I was feeling; it was all far too raw.
In the following days, my mobility increased and I managed to do more things for myself. I did still feel overwhelmed by emotion and kept cracking whenever I couldn’t distract myself from thinking about the whole experience. Feelings of panic came over me for days afterwards and flashbacks of our Friday 13th kept hitting me.
As my tube had not been removed, the hospital had to ensure that my hcg levels were dropping, so I went back to the Early Pregnancy Unit for a check up on Thursday. I personally thought that was a bit cruel, being surrounded by newly pregnant ladies, some with their scan photos in hand. I became emotional again - firstly tearful and then angry. Our appointment was delayed and I just wanted to get out of there. My blood was taken and I was handed a leaflet about ectopic pregnancies. I was officially discharged and left on my own to cope with it.
Today have been left by myself for the first time since the operation as my husband had to go back to work. I have found that coping with the physical after-effects of the surgery have kept me focused. I can get frustrated that I can’t walk too far without hurting, I can get angry that I still have limited mobility and can’t push myself with any vigorous activities around the house. As long as I’m thinking about the physical impact on my body, I don’t have to think about the emotional impact on our lives. I suppose that will come later.