One Saturday night I was just suddenly extremely sore in my lower abdomen — because of some historical gastrointestinal issues I assumed it was just a really bad case of bloat. Then it went on for the entire week. I made some drastic diet choices. I cut out dairy and anything with bubbles or that’s known to cause gas at all. I consulted Dr. Google and tried every ridiculous thing I found in forum posts or on Web MD. Meanwhile my husband got more worried by the day and gently urged (read: tried to load me in the car while I was sleeping) me to go to the doctor or the emergency room. I was so sure it was something benign that I refused to listen to reason.
So I kept toughing it out and I was at work a few days later standing up and addressing my staffers when the pain was suddenly unbearable — I could barely walk I was doubled over. I know now that this is probably when my Fallopian tube ruptured. So I did what any reasonable person would do (NOT) and finished the meeting and sat back down at my desk and popped a few Tylenol. It took the edge off and I could stand so IM’d my husband and told him that I was going to go to the Emergency Room on my way home and that I’d call him if he needed to meet me.
Luckily, my husband is more reasonable than I am and immediately left to meet me at the ER, which is a good thing because the wait was pretty short. They had an IV in me and I was laying in a hospital bed when a nurse came in and announced that we were pregnant. We had that moment of surprise and elation and then the doctor came in and explained to us that the pain could be one of two things. If the pregnancy had implanted normally it could be a ruptured cyst (The Good One) or it could be an ectopic pregnancy (The Bad One). A series of blood tests and ultrasounds followed.
I think I knew it was The Bad One when the ultrasound tech called her boss in and they did the ultrasound a second time and got really quiet. A little while later a surgical OBGYN came in and explained that I did have an ectopic pregnancy and would need surgery to remove it. It was a bit of a whirlwind after that signing forms, trying to sleep a little, getting IV’s and then being wheeled into surgery that morning. At most follow up appointments after the surgery the doctor explained to me that had I tried to “walk it off” any longer I could have ruptured my uterus or bled to death. She also told me that she’d never had a patient that went two full weeks in pain before they sought professional medical help. I’ve always liked being an anomaly, but this doesn’t seem good.
Going forward my husband and I obviously have some talking, accepting and moving on to do. More importantly I have to learn to listen to my body better and know its limits, until then I’ve agreed to go to the ER when I start considering medical treatment from Pet Smart or if I’ve spent more than two days consulting Dr. Google on a regular basis.
Losing The Zygote has been difficult, but I think the blow was softened because it was only part of our reality for about a half an hour. This whole situation actually does have some positives — I know now that it is possible for me to get pregnant. And according to the doctors losing a Fallopian tube doesn’t have a huge negative effect on fertility so we probably will get to start a family once I’m medically cleared for extra-curricular activities again.
I try to look at life like a book, and this isn’t the end of our story; it’s just the sad part at the beginning that the protagonists have to get through before they get their happy ending.