What happens when you think you are in control of your life......

This is just the raw story of what’s been happening with Kurt and I this past week. We appreciate the thoughts and prayers of those who know, and I wanted to share the story with others so everyone knows what happened and that I am doing okay.  I also wanted people to know that it is okay to talk about it.  I know some people keep things like this private, but I wanted to share my story so that anyone else who may have gone through or goes through in the future will know that it happened to me, and I am okay talking about it and giving support to others who might need it.

On Sunday, November 28^th, at about 9pm, I lost my baby.   I guess some would argue that it was not yet a baby, since at just 5 weeks it had not even had time to develop a heart yet.  But from the moments those two lines appeared on the stick, it was my baby.  No matter what stage, it was more than just a ball of cells.  That was my baby, my dream of becoming a mother, the happiest experience of my life.  In two weeks I went from the happiest I’ve ever been to the absolute saddest.

Let me back up.  Exactly two weeks earlier, on Sunday November 14^th, I woke up and just decided to take a pregnancy test.  I was not having symptoms, mind you, just a feeling like I should do it.  So I did.  And when those two lines appeared, my world changed forever.  I was in such disbelief that I took a different brand test just to be sure.  Both test confirmed that we were going to be parents.  I called Kurt in and told him.  I’ve never seen him light up more.  We could not have known that our baby was already nestling itself into my left fallopian tube, not my uterus where it was supposed to be.  We had no idea that already, this pregnancy would not last.  All we knew was that we were going to be parents.

We spend the next week trying not to explode with the news.  It was hard.  Very, very hard.  We wanted to shout it from the rooftops.  I peed on a stick every day after that, just to be sure, to be absolutely sure that this was real.  It was.  We bought book upon book, started signing up for e-newsletters, and evaluating my eating habits to make sure we were getting the baby everything it needed. 

Finally, we told our families.  We told Kurt’s dad on a Monday night.  He was thrilled beyond belief to become a grandpa.  We planned on telling his siblings at Christmas.  We told my family on Thanksgiving.  Thrilled, thrilled, thrilled.  Everyone was so excited for this baby.  My sister was giddy at becoming an aunt.  She bought me my first maternity top at the mall the next day.  It said “Tis the Season to be Pregnant.”  I was going to wear it to Kurt’s family’s Christmas as my way of telling them.

We came home from Thanksgiving in Minneapolis on Sunday.  I had been having some very small cramps, but all the books said that it was normal as long as they were not severe and there was no blood.  There wasn’t, so I was not worried.  Sunday night, we were just settling down to watch TV and plan our Monday—we had both taken it off to do some Christmas shopping—when the first cramp struck.  This was unlike anything I had ever felt.  I went to the bathroom, hoping, PRAYING it was just gas.  It wasn’t.  The cramp got worse.  I called for Kurt.  I was terrified that something was wrong.  Neither one of us knew what to do.  Kurt made the call that he was taking me to the ER.  He got me to the car, somehow, as the lightening in my belly was not allowing me to move very fast.  He got us there, got me checked in, then we had to wait.  A lot of waiting.  Which is not good when your belly is screaming and your intuition is telling you that things are not okay.  A lot of that night is a blur to me now.  I remember the ER doc, blood being drawn, and my first ultrasound.  I remember the tech told me going in that she could not give out any information.  But I could tell by her face, by the length of time she was looking in me, that something was wrong.  Something was very wrong.  Kurt was not allowed to accompany us to the ultrasound room, so I was all alone when I realized for the first time that my baby was gone. 

The rest of the night consisted of waiting for doctors to get to the hospital.  It was about midnight when the OB-GYN came in.  For some reason, my regular OB could not come to the hospital we were at—I still don’t understand the story, but something about not have privileges at the hospital we were at. We went to the closest hospital, not the one that my doctor was at.  We were panicked and just went to the closest one. But they called in their OB, and he became my guardian angel.  He was honest but positive with us.  He gave us the diagnosis.  Ectopic Pregnancy.  That meant that the baby had implanted in my tube, not my uterus.  I knew that this meant the pregnancy would not be viable.  On top of that, it turns out that the pregnancy had ruptured (likely that first cramp I felt at home) and I was bleeding internally.  I had to have surgery immediately. 

I did not really have time to process all this information.  The only thing I knew for certain was my baby was no more.  My dream was not to be.  Everything turned surreal.  Kurt called my parents at 12:30AM Monday morning to tell them.  He then called his dad.  They prepped me for surgery and wheeled me in at about 1:30AM.  It took a while because they had to gather the surgical team from home.  It also meant that rather than an easier laparoscopic surgery (tiny incisions and going in through the belly button) they had to do old style, with a cut across my belly.   Kurt was there the whole time—he went home for a few things right when they wheeled me in—so he was there when I went under and there when I woke up. He slept in the most uncomfortable chair every made to stay by my side.  I think we both learned the true meaning of those marriage vows that night.  Despite his own hurt and pain, he never left me and focused all his attention on me and my recovery. 

The OB came in and explained everything to me.  There was too much damage, so he had to take the left tube completely out.  My prognosis is good, though—he said everything else about me was perfectly healthy, and he was sure we’d go on to have as many kids as we want in the future.  I am sure that will be comforting in the future, but for now, I am still mourning this pregnancy.  I can’t begin to think about the future just yet.

So that is the basic story.  Right now, the physical recovery is my main goal.  It physically hurts too much to cry, so I think that I have not fully begun to deal with the emotional side yet.  We are both devastated by this loss.  I know that I will be okay one day, but right now, I am a mess.  I know millions of women suffer losses like this each year, but that is not comforting right now.  I think that any woman who has gone through this would agree that at that moment, you are the only one in the world suffering like this.  This was my loss.  This was Kurt and I’s baby.

I will write more about the healing process later.  Writing is cathartic for me.  It allows me to put the feelings down into words, which helps me to clear my head.  I am still trying to get my head around a lot of emotions—anger, sadness, despair, pain, guilt, and fear.  I will deal with these as honestly as I can.  I know that this type of this is not often talked about—we tend to suffer in silence, but celebrate in public.  I’m not much for silence, those of you who know me can attest, so hopefully this blog can become my journal of loss, healing, and hopefully one day, celebration of a new life.