My Experience: Ectopic Pregnancy

“I believe you’re having an ectopic pregnancy.”

They were words that, even in my wildest dreams, I never imagined I’d hear.

But we weren’t even trying? But I’m on the pill? But I’m healthy? But…? What?

Rewind: how’d I get here?

At the beginning of September 2018, I started what I thought was my period. 12 days later, I was still bleeding.

I didn’t realize how long it had been going on… between working, and the kids, and my husband, and trying to clean my house once in a while, it just didn’t occur to me the timeline was off until I started cramping.

First, I called my OBs office.

“It might just be your pills. You’re not breastfeeding anymore; your body just might be adjusting. Take a pregnancy test, just to be sure. I’ll talk to the doc and we’ll call you tomorrow.”

I went home and took a pregnancy test. It was negative.

The next day, the cramping was worse. I couldn’t focus. I arranged for my mom to pick up Sam from day care and I went to the walk-in.

I got in quickly and answered all the questions. It still had not crossed my mind I might be pregnant. This doctor also thought it could be pills, or maybe a small infection. She handed me a cup to pee in, “just to be safe.”

5 minutes later, a nurse showed up with a wheelchair.

“The test came back positive. You are pregnant. With all the bleeding, you have to go to the emergency room. Is there someone you can call?”

The rest of that night is a blur. Josh came as quickly as he could. My mom stopped by to tell me they had Sam and the dog. Nurses apologized that they couldn’t give anything to drink or eat “just in case.”

I had bloodwork and an ultrasound. The OB on call that night wanted to keep me for observation and admitted me to the hospital for the night.

“You are pregnant. You could be experiencing a miscarriage, but if you are having an ectopic pregnancy, it could rupture at any time.”

I stayed in the wing across the hall from the NICU. My anxiety was on overload.

My regular OB showed up the next morning and performed some more tests. After another ultrasound and more bloodwork, he said the words:

“I believe you’re having an ectopic pregnancy.”

He scheduled the surgery for later that day.

Within a matter of hours, I went from finding out I was pregnant to losing a baby. I couldn’t even wrap my head around what had happened before the depression set it. I spent the next two weeks physically recovering. Six months later, I’m not sure I’ll ever be fully recovered emotionally.

Most days I’m okay. The days I’m not, I allow myself to feel those emotions; the sadness, the heartache. I’ve learned that I can’t bury those emotions and expect to feel any better.

I’m looking forward to trying again, when I’m ready. But for now, I grieve the life that might have been and allow myself to try to heal.