Hello everyone...I discovered part one and part two of this thread a few days ago and have read every post, I’m so encouraged by this group and I feel like I know you ladies already, so I’ll introduce myself.
My husband and I started TTC in February, we finally had our own place again and were very ready to start expanding our family beyond our dog and cat (they are definitely our original babies). Eight years ago, I was married to my first husband, very abusive situation, and I chose to terminate an unexpected pregnancy. Makes me feel like a bit of a monster, but I wouldn’t change that decision, and I’m just grateful I got out and have instead a beautiful relationship with my current (and forever) husband. I did feel like something was missing, so when we started TTC, I was elated. I could finally justify looking at all the baby stuff that I had been secretly eyeing lol
First week in May, I woke up with nausea every morning. By the 4th day, my best friend surprised me at work with a HPT, sprite, and saltine crackers. I took the test before my husband left for work the next morning and it was positive almost immediately. We were pregnant!!! I did some quick math and figured I was probably just before 4wks. AF was supposed to show up that next Monday, and she didn’t, so I felt really secure in the positive test. We waited until the last weekend in May before telling family and friends. Big party on Saturday revealed the news to family, Sunday we told more family and our church family. I was 7wks that Sunday, my first scan with my midwife was supposed to be one week later, at 8+1. My husband and I had decided to announce the news that weekend instead of waiting because IF something happened to this baby, we knew we’d need as much support as possible. Little did we know just how quickly we would be needing that support. The next morning, Monday, (5/31) was a federal holiday (I’m in the States) and I woke up feeling a little thirsty, but nothing strange, until I got out of bed. I managed to pee and then grab a bottle of water from the fridge before collapsing. I wasn’t bleeding, but I was clammy and lightheaded and had terrible cramping in my lower abdomen. I sometimes have issues with fainting and low blood pressure, so I figured I just needed to rehydrate and lay down for awhile. I wasn’t improving, so eventually my husband took me to the private emergency room that’s attached to where my GP practices. By the time we reached that ER, I was starting to have breathing issues. They did a bedside ultrasound and saw a lot of free fluid in my abdomen. The doctor could see my uterus, but no baby. They monitored my blood levels and discovered I was losing a lot of blood, so set me up with a transfusion. They also transferred me to a more formal emergency room so I could see a specialist since the pregnancy was probably ectopic, although they couldn’t say for sure. The bedside ultrasound wasn’t powerful enough to see my tubes through the fluid and no one wanted to take the chance of making me wait longer than necessary. Once I was at the formal ER, the specialists descended and very quickly determined that the pregnancy was ectopic, my tube had burst, and I was bleeding out internally. I was already on my second transfusion. I was having increased trouble breathing, could only take short shallow breaths or else my entire body would seize up and I couldn’t breathe at all for several seconds. All the fluid in my body was pressing on my organs, causing the shortness of breath. I remember the pain on my husband’s face when they told him ectopic pregnancies couldn’t be saved, I wasn’t able to process that information at the time, but I saw the grief all over his face. They wheeled me back to surgery, laparoscopy, the worst moment was when they transferred me to the operating table. I had to lay flat, which caused my breathing to become even more shallow and painful, then the oxygen mask on my face and being strapped to the bed caused my claustrophobia to flare up, I was freaking out, but the anesthesia kicked in and I was out. When I woke up in recovery, there was just a nurse with me, but it thankfully wasn’t long before they were wheeling me to a room where my husband was waiting with his own cot next to my bed. They were allowing him to stay with me, so so thankful for that. He gave me the updates he had gotten during and after my surgery: I lost 3 liters of blood, even with my two transfusions, I was very close to bleeding to death, which scared him very deeply...and then news I wasn’t prepared for: I had been at least 13weeks pregnant. 13 weeks...not 7+1 like I had repeated so many times since we had first begun my emergency journey...13...no wonder the damage to my right tube had been so great. I was sent home the next day after proving I could eat, go to the bathroom on my own, and walk around a little. The loss of my baby didn’t hit until a couple days later when my husband went back to work and I was alone for the first time. I’m now 11 days post-op, still just physically healing. My surgeon was wonderful and I follow up with her on Tuesday. I haven’t taken a pregnancy test to see if my HcG levels are gone, I don’t think I could bear seeing a positive, so I’ll wait until she tests them next week. I was out briefly yesterday for the first time and it was just weird and awkward being around people, like I didn’t know how to act or what to say.
Sorry for the long version of my story, it’s been cathartic to write it out though. My husband and I are looking to the future and are excited (albeit nervous) to start trying again...everyone’s story on here has given me hope, even if it’s just the courage to keep trying. 🌈