Wednesday, 25 November 2015

Pregnancy Two:: An Ectopic

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It's been six months since I shared my experience of my ECTOPIC PREGNANCY over on my other blog, Dib-Dab-Debs and whilst it seems almost a lifetime ago I can still remember every little detail of that day in April. The full story is over on Dib-Dab-Debs if you want to read the very raw thoughts on what happened to me days after it did but for today, here, I'll just give you the abridged version.

On March 22nd 2015 with my chemical pregnancy only just behind me, I found myself staring at a second faint pink line on a HPT. I couldn't believe my luck, I had managed to fall pregnant again straightaway. That's amazing. Some people try and try for months on end and there I was falling pregnant for the second time in two months, no horrible waiting, no horrible negative tests. I was pregnant again but as we all know now, it wasn't meant to last.

I first knew that something wasn't quite right when I began spotting two weeks later and by the time I started bleeding properly a few days after that I feared that I had miscarried my second baby. I didn't have any dreaded cramps or even much pain at all - just a little discomfort. I had an appointment with my GP that week who referred me to the Early Pregnancy Unit for a scan as urine tests still confirmed I was pregnant. I didn't hold out much hope and a week later on April 16th 2015, I went for my very first ultrasound scan at the EPU.

I'd prepared myself for a miscarriage, for my baby to have already have gone but I never expected to see it still there. heart beating, only in the wrong place. I had an ectopic, or tubal, pregnancy which basically meant that instead of implanting in the uterus my baby had implanted in the fallopian tube. My baby couldn't be saved and I had to prepare for surgery. I had to say goodbye to my baby at eight weeks.

The idea of surgery on the day didn't particularly scare me as I didn't have any other choice. They told me that they would perform a laparoscopic salpingectomy which in layman terms means they would remove my fallopian tube and the pregnancy through key-hole surgery. The severity of having surgery never really hit me until after it had happened. Why would it? They perform these procedures all the time and I had no say in the matter. Before long I was back on my ward, drowsy and a little sore - and no longer pregnant.

My stitches took time to heal and even now I'm left with three little scars. I still think that they are pretty noticeable but others tell me different. I'm left with other scars too of course but you just can see them. Having an ectopic increases your chances of having another in the future, it can limit your fertility with only using one tube (although sometimes your other ovary compensates for that), it is a constant worry every time you think about trying again. It's something that I have to live with every day and it isn't easy - even now.

When I look back on the events leading up to April 16th, finding out I had an ectopic pregnancy, seeing that tiny little heartbeat, being scheduled for surgery, having surgery it still feels surreal. It's almost as though all that couldn't possibly have happened to me. How is that girl the same one that is writing these word on this very screen? It seems impossible. I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that those events, that surgery has changed me. 

Up until April 16th 2015 I had never spent a single night in the hospital - not even when I was born. In fact, I wasn't even born in a hospital but at home on my parents' couch on a hot summer's day in July which was totally unplanned. My mum insisted that so long as I was healthy she was taking me home as I hadn't even been born at the hospital. Other than one trip to A&E in my teens after my thumb had been hit rather hard with a hockey stick, I hadn't stepped foot inside a hospital for my own health. Suddenly, not only was I in hospital but I was having surgery - and staying overnight. It doesn't feel like something I would do at all! 

I'll forever try to avoid staying overnight in a hospital again (even if I have some healthy pregnancies) as I truly believe nothing helps me heal faster than my own home comforts. Don't get me wrong, if I am ill or there has been complications then sure, on doctor's recommendations I'll stay. If not though I'll be rushing right out of that place, quicker than you can say "Bob's your uncle." If I'm healthy enough then I'm out of there!

My due date for this little one is tomorrow, 26th November 2015. It's hard to reach this date and not have anything to show for it, to know that so long ago I lost it all. I don't get to sit here, rubbing my overgrown stomach, complaining about how fat I feel, how desperate I am for them just to arrive and that really hurts right now. Instead I'll light a candle and keep them in my mind. It's all I can really do now.

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