Hi so I am hoping for some advice as I am really wrestling with myself since my eptopic a 8 months ago.
Back in March I found out I was 8 weeks pregnant, after being with my partner a year. It was a whirlwind of emotions: possibility of future, fear being unplanned, anxiety as to whether he’d support me and general unknown territory. Being. Musician mainly on the road, he said that it was my body and my choice but that it could send him spiralling. I spent many a sleepless night and a lot of journaling, speaking with close friends to figure out my situation and how I could move forward alone.
At about 8 weeks into the pregnancy, still trying to figure out my relationship with my partner, I started spotting. This then got heavier to the point that I was worried and wondered whether the test was accurate in the first place. I went for a scan at my trust and they said that there was not much to see and there was no growth. I took this as my bodies decision that this was not the right time and started the process of acceptance.
Two weeks later on a Monday, still spotting, I started getting agonising cramps and was unable to move. I put this down to my body naturally miscarrying until the Wednesday, when on a work call at home I started sweating ( from freezing cold to boiling). I crawled upstairs ran a cold bath and my hot water bottle. The pain didn’t cease so I got into bed hot water bottle between my legs and curled up and it felt like time warped. I was jolted with the most pain and distended tummy and couldn’t muster enough strength to walk, at that point I called my mum and just screamed down the phone ‘help’. She arrived to my house about 20 minutes later or so she told me and at the point I was passed out in the bathroom floor after hitting my head in an attempt to get back into a cold bath. The pain had now gone to my shoulder. I remember the in and out of consciousness when the ambulance arrived and the three paramedics crowded me, unable because of my blood levels to give me anything more than gas and air and a drip (when they found a vein). The gas did nothing…
I was taken by ambulance to the emergency where the doctor internally examined me, I think I just screamed. In that moment, I didn’t want to be here I just wanted the pain to stop. I was shoved this yellow paper in front of my face and told to sign and taken straight to surgery. I remember waking up unable to move but the pain very much subsided (maybe due to morphine) I was told I’d had 3 blood transfusions and had a catheter in.
At that point, my folks were both there and held my hand and reassured me I’d be okay. I was very much in and out woozy when they left and decided to phone my partner and to tell him what had happened. I didn’t really get much sense from him at 3am and not really too much after either. My discharge, the next day, felt clinical and rushed with little communication (I was told at 5pm I was leaving because they needed the bed. There was not much care. I wasn’t told what to expect apart from that I had to wee once the catheter was removed before I could go. The days that followed were at home with my mum not going into work and helping me do the littlest of things, go to the toilet change my what I can only describe as a nappy and sit me upright to eat some soup. I remember waking up to blood between my legs the first night I was home and thinking oh my goodness something is very wrong (I didn’t even know I’d be bleeding).
Fast forward and I physically became stronger, inspecting my scars and heartbroken over the lack of support of my partner who was so I grossed in his music that a poster seemed more important than actually talking about what had just happened. I got back to work 8 weeks later and threw myself into it. In the spare moments between I found comfort in drinking to numb what thinking about what had happened and why I felt such an empty space. My (now ex) partner in this time fell completely off the radar to be on the road and on tour.
After drinking to oblivion on more than one occasion and speaking with family and friends I knew it wasn’t the answer, so turned myself back into work and slowly building up exercise. We are now in October and I have been burying the thoughts of what happened in hopes I’ll just move past it. The upset of thinking my partner would be supportive, the trauma of what happened cause me to move back to my folks (my stuff is all still at my house and I am just ignoring it and living out of a suitcase by my old bed in my old room, I constantly wake up at 3 am with dreams of what if and feeling like I am now at the time of expecting.
In the moments I let it in, I feel completely lost.
I guess I just want to know, is this normal. What is everyone doing to cope? I have been so hesitant to speak with a professional or to write on a forum because I was not planning the pregnancy and I feel guilty for people who are on here with a partner and who are desperately trying. But I feel like part of me has been taken, and the possibilities of what if are haunting me.
Any advice, words of wisdom or just some solidarity would be a massive help. If anyone manages to read this now 5am ramble, thank you.