I experienced my ectopic pregnancy at the age of seventeen. At the time, I thought my intense pains were just because I was due to start my period. Little did I know, I was around eight weeks pregnant with a foetus growing in my left Fallopian tube.
When the clinician told me to take a pregnancy test and rushed me to hospital, I knew something wasn’t right. For the next couple of days, I dissociated from reality. It wasn’t until my ultrasound that I was told the risks of having an ectopic pregnancy. The doctor advised that it was crucial to have surgery, as my hormone levels were too high. Within forty-eight hours, the surgery was over and I was back home.
Despite the surgery being a success, I hadn’t prepared myself for the emotional rollercoaster that followed. The nurses told me I might feel ‘sad’ or ‘worried’, but what I felt was empty. In those forty-eight hours, I was able to feel like a mother, to have something growing inside me, even though I knew the risks it posed to my own life. It created so many questions about my future and whether I would be able to have children, even though I still had one Fallopian tube.
Every baby I saw reminded me of the hospital and the moment I was told the baby wouldn’t have been viable. I struggled, really struggled.
After healing, I came to realise how thankful I was for the doctors, my family, my boyfriend, and my friends who stood by me throughout the process. I often think back to that time, but instead of feeling dread or sadness, I feel grateful. Now, I talk openly with people who haven’t heard about ectopic pregnancies so I can raise awareness and help create transparency. I also volunteer for the charity, to give back and show my support.
This is the poem I wrote to process those forty-eight hours.
Forty-eight hours
Tossing and turning all night,
Pushing through the sharp pain,
Hunched over – soaring through my left side,
Little did I know the storm
That was about to remain,
Rushed to the hospital
To find my worst nightmare:
Carrying a life – but not my own,
Reality slipped away from me,
Eight weeks, they said,
But not in the womb –
In my Fallopian tube,
A child I could never hold,
The skin I could never feel,
I saved my life,
But at the cost of another,
Forty-eight hours in the hospital bed,
My body healed, but my mind raced,
I felt empty,
I was a mother –
Then I was not,
It left me with questions,
Questions about the future,
The chances of my fertility,
Each baby I saw was a memory,
A whisper of what could have been,
But through all that was done –
My family,
My friends,
My boyfriend –
The souls who healed me,
Who cradled me when I could not stand,
I now stand, not with fear or shame,
But with strength and forgiveness,
I will spread my experience to create clarity,
To bring light to the dark –
To those who do not know,
And to those who need to know,
This is the beginning of the end,
I’ve got a scar, but also a life lesson,
And now I know:
There is purpose beyond the forty-eight hours.
Thank you to Isabella for sharing her story and poem for Ectopic Pregnancy Awareness Day, and for all she does to support the charity through volunteering.
If you would like to share your experience of ectopic pregnancy, please visit our guide for more information.
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