We started trying for a baby just before my youngest turned one year old. We had been trying for a while when I suddenly saw those two pink lines and rushed to get a digital test without Dominic knowing, so we could finally see those words “pregnant” and “3+ weeks”.
I went from excitedly telling Dominic to come over as I needed to speak to him, making a sign and being over the moon to finally having our ‘mini us’, to then experiencing a very bad cramp but managing to sleep the pain off and not thinking anything of it. To then experiencing the same pain again whilst at home alone with two children and having to ring him ask him to come home as I couldn’t get off the kitchen floor. He came in ran me a bath to try and ease the pain, then rang NHS 111 (National Health Service advice line) for some advice on what to do. Of course, they wanted us to go to A&E (Accident & Emergency), so we dropped the kids off to my parents’ and headed to the hospital. We sat there for hours, had a blood test and gave a urine sample, only for them to send me home and told me to rest.
The next morning, we got up and I felt fine again. I popped to the supermarket before going to collect the youngest and seeing my grandparent and parents. I got to my nan’s and was rolled up in excruciating pain again, the pain was so bad that I was vomiting. So I went back to hospital, was admitted there and then and was told that I was suffering an ectopic pregnancy. Not only that, but that it was life-threatening due to it having ruptured.
I had emergency surgery and five hours later I recall being in a little room alone waiting to be reunited with Dominic. I was told that they removed my Fallopian tube so it might be harder to fall pregnant in the future.
Missing my children and being in discomfort, I was discharged the next day and had to be on complete bed rest for two weeks whilst my incisions healed, this meant Dominic had to take time off work and become my carer for two weeks and had to do absolutely everything for me and the children. Helping me to the toilet, showering me, making sure I had my medication, doing dinners for everyone, doing the school runs, EVERYTHING.
Finally, I healed and was back to my normal self, we talked about everything and agreed we would continue to try again when it was safe to. When I saw the words “pregnant, 1-2 weeks” as excited as I felt I should have been, I was petrified. I didn’t want to get our hopes up of having a baby after everything we had just been through.
I managed to get to six weeks when I had my early scan and was told once again that we were experiencing another ectopic pregnancy, this time in my remaining Fallopian tube. As we caught this earlier than the last pregnancy, they tried to treat me with an injection (methotrexate), however that didn’t lower my hCG levels (Human chorionic gonadotrophin is a hormone produced during pregnancy), they kept increasing so they admitted me back into hospital to have surgery again. They couldn’t save my Fallopian tube, so if we wanted to get pregnant, we would need IVF (In Vitro Fertilization, a complex series of procedures that can lead to a pregnancy).
No one truly understands what it’s like to experience an ectopic pregnancy, it’s been a year since suffering them both now and it’s still not easy. Seeing my friends and family post pictures on social media of their children who would be the same ages as our babies should be, it hurts. Looking down at the scars on my belly from both surgeries, it hurts. Seeing the hurt in your partners eyes because they didn’t get the opportunity to have a child with you, it hurts. Him seeing me experience all the pain and heartache while he tried to stay strong and put on a brave face for you and everyone around, no one asking if they’re okay and how they’re coping, it hurts.
I wouldn’t wish this on anybody, and you don’t realise just how common it is because it’s hardly spoken about.