TRIGGER WARNING - Some people may find this post upsetting.
On Monday it'll be a year since I had keyhole surgery to end an ectopic pregnancy. I can't believe it's been a year since the op. Months ago I wondered how I'd feel around this time...the whole thing was pretty traumatic. Would I feel sad about the little one we lost? Would I get depressed? Would I get broody? Would I feel the guilt I felt straight after the operation that maybe my anorexia from the past was to blame, or that I wasn't fit enough?
During the aftermath I went to the internet for support and while it was very useful to see the support from women and men who had been through the same thing, I came away feeling like a bit of a freak.
Let me explain..
Having children has never been high on the priority list for me. I've never felt the 'clock ticking' my friends have described. I suffer from chronic depression and CFS and these health issues would make it extremely difficult to have the energy to bring up a child well.
There are a whole host of other reasons why, and I won't go in to them, but I made the decision a long time ago that having children was not for me.
My periods have always been dodgy and since getting an IUD nearly 4 years ago they have been even dodgier than normal. They could last for weeks and were extremely painful and heavy and I frequently got brown instead of red blood. It often led to bed days loaded with painkillers and hot water bottles, and somehow I would turn in to this nasty witch the week before it was due which made me impossible to live with. They could be late by several weeks if my schedule had changed or if I was stressed.
Last April I started a new training programme and job working more hours than I'd ever worked before and I was exhausted. The job was okay but it took a lot out of my body. In light of this, it wasn't a huge surprise to me that my period was late.
Three weeks later, it eventually arrived and this time it was a browny colour. I'd had that before so I wasn't that alarmed, but what did alarm me was that it lasted for months. Each month that went by things got more and more painful. My periods were usually very sore, so I just assumed it was a more extreme reaction to my new working life, so I tried to ignore it.
You would think the normal thing would be to go to a doctor to get it checked out, but no! Not me! Having had a bad time in the psychiatric system and fed up of feeling patronised at my local GP surgery for trivial complaints, I decided I was not going in for simple period pain. Yes, this was a mistake on my part...me letting my stupid pride get in the way of my health...I cant change that now, but I've taken some very useful lessons from it.
By the time it got to the beginning of August, I was in agony. The pain was so bad I could hardly stand and was taking over 12 paracetamol and ibuprofen tablets every day. The tablets made no difference. I was breaking out in hot sweats and I felt dizzy and nauseous constantly. The blood flow had gotten weirder too. It resembled prune juice...something that had not happened before.
I called in sick several days. The job was only temporary and ended on 1st August but I struggled in on my last day to say goodbye to everyone.
The next day I could bear it no longer and phoned NHS 24. They told me to get to the emergency room immediately. Of course I decided to take the bus. On my way there the pain subsided a bit and I considered getting off at the next stop and going home. How humiliating to arrive at the emergency room be told to go home and take a hot bath to reduce my severe menstrual cramps!
I arrived at the hospital and seen right away. Tests were done and I was told I was pregnant. Most people would have a better reaction to this, but my "WHAAAT? NOOO!" firmly cemented any doubts I had about my maternal feelings. This was followed by hysterical crying...my life was over...how would I cope?..I'd just got my life back after a decade of illness in my 20s...what about all the things I still wanted to do?
Then came the news that they thought there was a good chance the pregnancy was ectopic (in the fallopian tube instead of the uterus) as the pregnancy hormone concentration in my urine was very low compared to others at three months.
They weren't able to do a scan until the next morning and I spent a very long night up on the Gynie ward contemplating the future. My partner (now husband) had been a tower of strength, reassuring me that whatever happened, we would work it out.
Just for a moment, I wondered if becoming a mother might be a blessing in disguise. Instead of seeing it as a death sentence, I began to see it as a purpose and direction in life that I had always felt lacking. Just for a moment, I wanted to prove wrong those people who said I'd never be able to cope with being a mother... If it happened, it happened.
The ultrasound scan the next morning found no baby in my uterus but on the screen they pointed out a small white shape in my right fallopian tube. Seeing that made it more real. That had been my baby. Tears stung my eyes which surprised me. I hadn't wanted this, so why was I so upset? I was wheeled back to the ward and scheduled for surgery A.S.A.P.
I've always wondered about women who claim they never knew they were pregnant. How could something so huge happen to your body and you not even know about it?
I guess I wasn't expecting to get pregnant so I wasn't looking out for it, but it did explain the cravings for huge bags of my favourite salty lentil crisps I had every day after work and the "Super Boobs" I sported for a while. I just associated the cravings and boobs with typical menstrual cravings and boobs!
In the aftermath of the operation I went through an unexpected grieving process which came with a huge amount of guilt that my former anorexia may have caused all this. During my illness, I had gone without monthly periods for over 8 years which I had seen as a bonus at the time, but I had been later warned that conceiving may be difficult. I wasn't intending to have children and didn't see it as a big deal. Now I was being punished for my former anorexia.
I felt guilty for a long time and it wasn't until later I learned that ectopic pregnancies are very common (about 1 in 80).
They can have many causes including; being over 35, having an IUD, being a smoker, STD's, oddly shaped fallopian tubes and more. Sometimes there is no reason whatsoever and sadly it just happens.
When I was going through the grieving process I looked on the ectopic.org website. It is a really great organisation with a lot of useful information, but at the time I felt it was geared towards women who wanted children or knew they were pregnant and were excited to be welcoming a child in to their lives. Many had shared their painful stories of devastation at the loss of their baby. Nobody really mentioned relief that the pregnancy had ended. That is why I felt like such a freak.
A year on, I still feel relief, but I also feel a bit sad. Writing this post was harder than I expected and the tears now rolling down my face have surprised me. If the baby had survived to full term, it would have been born mid-February and now I'd be knee deep in dirty nappies and piles of laundry, going gaga with no sleep!
I made a huge mistake in not getting to a doctor sooner and the experience was a huge wake up call with regards to my levels of fitness. I still don't know what caused my ectopic pregnancy and the risk of my having another is high. Now I know what to look out for.
I'm grateful to have had the experience though, and every year on 3rd August I'll take a moment to remember what might have been.
