After 22 miscarriages, she feared losing another baby just before her birthday. After a frightening ectopic pregnancy, she waited alone in a crowded hospital hallway, feeling both scared and oddly comforted knowing her baby was still alive.
They got me into a room after about an hour and finally let my husband join me. We weren’t in the room long before two student doctors came in and just told me, ‘You have an ectopic pregnancy.
You must terminate this pregnancy. We spoke to your doctor, and you have two options, surgery or an injection of methotrexate.’ I burst into tears, and they just stared at me. I knew I was making them uncomfortable and it just upset me more. They wanted me to decide right then!
I pulled the blanket over my head and sat there like a toddler in a standoff, just waiting for them to leave, but they just stood there. They gave awkward apologies that seemed to bother them more than my tears bothered me.
I wanted to scream at them to leave, but that would have required me to come out from underneath the blanket and to speak. They finally left after what was probably only a couple of minutes but felt more like an hour.
She ended a dangerous pregnancy to save her own life, thinking the worst was over but had no idea the real trauma was still ahead.
Two weeks after losing her baby, she woke up in extreme pain and had to crawl to the bathroom, thinking something was very wrong. I don’t know why, but I kind of had this feeling like I was going to die. Once I finally made it back to bed, I prayed to God and asked him, ‘God, if this is serious, please let me know!’ Not a second later, I could feel the colour drain from my body, I started pouring sweat and every ounce of energy left my body.
I woke my husband up and the look on his face when he looked at me confirmed it – I was dying. He was in a panic! ‘We must get you to the hospital! I must call your mom! We don’t have time to wait!’ He was not waiting for an ambulance! He carried me through the house and to the car.
When we got to the hospital, he told them everything my doctor had told us to say. There was supposed to be a bed waiting and they were supposed to be prepared for my arrival. They weren’t. My husband, the most non-confrontational person I know, became irate! ‘Do you really have to weigh her! She can’t stand! She was here 2 weeks ago! Look at her chart! Quit wasting time! My wife needs help! Get her help!’ He was scared, and it scared me.
Once they got me in a room, a doctor came in and we told him what was going on. He said (with zero examination), ‘Oh, it’s probably an ovarian cyst, my sister gets those, they can hurt.’ I let him know I’ve had them, I know the pain, and this was not that! We again asked him to look at my chart from 2 weeks ago. He came back and told me if I had methotrexate then my pain couldn’t be from the ectopic pregnancy. My husband told him he needed to get my doctor on the phone.
I’m not sure what transpired for the short time after, but I ended up getting an ultrasound. During the ultra sound the screen faced me which I knew was unusual from past experiences.
I stared intently at the screen about 2 feet from my face and I remember looking at my husband and saying, ‘That’s our baby.’ The ultrasound tech said, ‘You’re right, that is your baby, and it grew.’ The baby I lost was still alive.
After a failed treatment caused her tube to rupture, she lost the same baby twice and fell into a lot of stress and depression for a long time before finally realizing she could survive and heal.
After 23 miscarriages, she realized true healing came from grieving each loss, allowing herself to feel the pain, and learning it’s okay to not always be strong.
