My Fertility Story part 2 - my first ectopic pregnancy

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It goes without saying but TW: child loss.

Only after I started writing this did I realise how much a toll bringing it all up would take, but like they say on Mastermind, I've started so I'll finish. I've had it better than some and worse than others, but everything I've been through has made me a stronger person. Here's the story of my first ectopic pregnancy. It happened 14 years ago but I'll recall it as best I can.

But first, what are ectopic pregnancies? From the Ectopic Pregnancy Trust: Ectopic pregnancy is a common, occasionally life-threatening condition that affects 1 in 80 pregnancies. Put very simply, it means “an out-of-place pregnancy”. It occurs when a woman’s ovum (egg), that has been fertilised, implants (gets stuck) outside the womb. The most common place for an ectopic pregnancy is the Fallopian tube but there are many other sites where an ectopic pregnancy can be located. It is, sadly, not possible to move an ectopic pregnancy into the womb to allow it to grow normally.

My Fertility Story - Part 1

I've heard it said before that bloggers shouldn't share too much of their personal lives, but I think that's complete bollocks. Yes, people might come to my page for the outfits, but how you connect with people is through sharing stories of your life. I have a lot of stories in me and I want to tell them - I have a burning desire to do so at the moment. Sometimes I'm obsessed with doing outfit posts, sometimes it's makeup, but at the moment it's opening up my heart.

This series will talk about my reproductive health in general, my two ectopic pregnancies, the reproductive health issues I've had since I had my fallopian tube removed, and also the decision for James to have a vasectomy, thus making us a childless couple. This is quite a lot to tell, so I'm going to break it up into at least a few parts. These posts will obviously deal with child loss, so please don't read these posts if they'll upset you.

Today is one of those days

Hiya,

Today is one of those days where I'm struggling to deal with the losses I've faced.

Today I found my diary from 2010, and the days were marked with my period due on dates and symptoms I thought I had if I was a couple of days late, as all of 2010 was spent trying to get pregnant. Eventually it worked, and on the 28th of December I wrote 'I'm pregnant. Best day everrrrrrrrrrr! I'm going to be a mummy!'

How foolish my hope seems in retrospect. I didn't even allow myself a second to think that this pregnancy could also be ectopic. I've covered what happened back in January 2011 in more than enough detail, but I haven't really spoken too much about how this affects me now.

For a while afterwards we tried to get pregnant again, even though we'd lost 2 babies to ectopic pregnancy and were all too aware another pregnancy could kill me. James took enthusiastically to sperminating me (ha!) every other day in my fertile window and again, life was full of hope, bitter-sweet masochistic expectation. Then came the revelation that James no longer wanted to be a parent, and maybe never had, and in 2014 he had a vasectomy.

Most days I think I'm OK with this, as after all I have the time-consuming business of chronic illness to keep me occupied, but some days like today it smacks me in the face as if afresh. There will be no child to call me mummy, no life lived anew through my progeny, no one to visit me in my old age. More than that, when a life reasonably full at the moment ceases to be more so with every death of my ageing family, this sense of wrongness about the whole situation will only be heightened. There is nothing can be said or done to make this realisation any less stark. Even knowing childlessness is probably the best thing all considered with my chronic illness doesn't really take the sting out of it.

Most of the time I can tuck away this pain I carry, but sometimes I have to take it out, polish off the dust and look at it to be able to survive. Being reminded of someone else's joy doesn't make me begrudge them theirs, it just makes me sad that I never got mine. Tomorrow is a new day, and I have no doubt tomorrow the pain will be tucked away in some hidden place with fortress walls around it so I don't collapse into a heap, but today is not one of those days.

3rd anniversary of a lucky escape

Hiya all!

Today is a special day for me and my husband, and I want to mark it in some way, hence this post. It's the third anniversary of the day I almost died. I've touched upon what happened when I had my second ectopic pregnancy many times before, so I'm not going there today, as I want this post to be about gain, not loss.

I've not always been the most positive person in the world. In fact 10 years ago I'm sure I was a negative nelly. Since meeting the man who became my hubby his enthusiasm has rubbed off on me, I'm glad to say, but I think what has REALLY made a difference to my life - and a life which now comes with two chronic illnesses - is that sense of perspective given knowing I'm lucky to still be here. The alternative is so final!

You could say this is my second chance at life. My sunny outlook belies the fact I'm in pain every day. My looks have changed - I'm no longer able to be active like I once was and I've put on weight because normal day-to-day activities cause me too much pain. Not moving much is the only way I can cope - a lifetime zombiefied on hardcore painkillers doesn't appeal. Thanks to the combined effect of IBS bloat and the constant basketball-up-my-shirt look that ovarian cysts cause, I look 6 months pregnant a lot of the time (which is why you don't see very many side-on shots of me.)

I *could* choose to focus on the negative crap I've brought up to illustrate a point, but I focus on being present, day to day, surviving and enjoying life however I can. My happiness may be heavily helped by an addiction to clothes and shoes and make up and and and, but it could be worse - it could be crack cocaine. (Not that drug addiction is funny, mind.) Of course there are moments where I wonder if the recent slide in health is a sign of things to come, but on the whole I'm SO thrilled to still be here that I try to put that out of mind and be thankful for what I can do.

The point of this post is you don't need to nearly meet your maker to be really thankful for life. You can do it without the traumas and scars. It took me that much of a reminder because I'm a doofus. ;) I think we put too much pressure on ourselves and sometimes each other. I have to wonder if we dropped the worries we carry around with us - the could be's and should be's - and concentrated on just BE-ing, would we be happier?

I've had some of my choices in life removed - for the foreseeable future I can't work, and my mobility is limited so I'm pretty much dependent on the hubby chauffeur so you could say that's simplified life for me. But I do have choices in other areas, and the biggest one is to be happy and thankful for each new day. My husband helps me stay sane, because he's the biggest ray of sunshine you could imagine. He goes through a lot of crap by virtue of being married to me. He works his balls off to keep us afloat. He doesn't understand me all the time, but he tries. And how he makes me laugh. He's shy in front of other people, so I get to see the hilarious side of him - the dancing around in his pants, the knob-in-the-ear morning wake up call, and all the other stuff he does that cracks me up. I'm very fortunate, and I try not to forget it.

So this is me giving my thanks - to luck, the skill of the surgical team, or a higher power - for the chance to give life another crack with more gratitude.

Thanks for reading.

In Memoriam

Hi.

Today is a sad day in our household. Today is the anniversary of my due date. If my little one had made it all the way and had been born on his/her due date (unlikely, I know!) the little one would've been one year old today.

How different life would've been.... instead of rabbiting on about make up, I'd be cleaning up baby sick. Instead of posting photos of what new make up I'd snagged, I'd be showing you cute baby outfits and 23 zillion photos of our progeny.

But you know, everything happens for a reason. I still live to fight another day, unlike many women who go through ectopic pregnancy. I've been through two and am still here. That is more than some. An ectopic pregnancy is when the foetus starts growing outside the womb. 98% of cases of ectopic pregnancy grow in the fallopian tube, but you can also have an ectopic pregnancy in your abdominal cavity, ovary or cervix.

It would be remiss of me to waste the opportunity to raise awareness about ectopic pregnancy, as it can and does kill. Please head over HERE to the Ectopic Pregnancy Trust to read about the signs and symptoms of ectopic pregnancy. If you're sexually active, it *could* happen to you. About 2% of pregnancies are ectopic. If you're of an age where you're sexually active, if you're actively trying to get pregnant or just screwing for fun please PLEASE inform yourself of the symptoms. Tell your sisters, tell your friends, tell everyone you know. If informing women of the risks could save one woman's life, then my two lost babes aren't in vain. The Ectopic Pregnancy Trust has a wealth of information on their site, so please feel free to read more at your leisure.

I know now that my first ectopic pregnancy happened to ensure I am still alive today. The first ectopic pregnancy wasn't as serious as the second as my fallopian tube didn't burst, but it gave me the knowledge of what ectopic pregnancy pain is like. Has I not had that first ectopic pregnancy, I would've ignored my pains last year and I wouldn't be here today. I am here by the skin of my teeth although I was in hospital when my fallopian tube burst. They barely saved me. If I'd been at home, I surely would've bled out.

So, what is ectopic pregnancy pain like? For me, it was an insistent stabbing pain on my left side, over my left fallopian tube, which was where the baby was growing. It was the kind of pain that knocks you for six. If I'd have been standing up when it happened, I'm sure I would've faltered. As soon as I felt the first pain, I said goodbye to my pregnancy. I knew exactly what was happening because of my first ectopic pregnancy. I went and laid down for half an hour to see if it would get better (hoping against all hope) but it didn't. The longer the pain goes on, the worse it gets. Over the hours it started to spread out upwards towards my tummy and down into my vagina like a fire. Soon, rocking backwards and forwards was the only thing I could do to try and take my mind off of it. I had about 1 hour of the pain at home and 12 hours in hospital, during which time I had blood tests, pregnancy tests, scans, internal examinations. Even though I had very good care and constant monitoring, my fallopian tube still burst, I still lost 2-3 litres of blood, I still had to have my fallopian tube removed. Now you understand the importance of getting it checked out. Trust your intuition - if you feel the pain is different to any you've ever had before, don't take any chances. You know your own body. 

If you have sudden abdominal pain which doesn't get better over the period of an hour, has no rational explanation and is enough to make you sit up and take notice, please don't delay. Don't tell yourself you can't be pregnant and dismiss it. My partner and I were using condoms AND I was on the pill when I fell pregnant the first time. Get yourself off to the doctors if it's in the daytime, or the hospital if it's in the evening/night. Believe me, any GP or hospital doctor worth their salt would gladly send you away reassured if it's something else rather than the possible alternative - rushing you into theatre to save your life. You will not be 'bothering' anyone. You might just save your life.

This blog goes out to all of you who've lost a child (even if the law says it's 'just' a foetus), to those of you trying to have a child, and all the people out there who desperately want to be mummies and daddies.

http://www.ectopic.org.uk/

6 months on....

Hi. 

The last few nights as I've laid awake in bed waiting for sleep, I've been thinking how it's almost 6 months since...well, what do you call it? If I say 'since my operation' it sounds quite clinical. If I say 'since the day I nearly died' or ' the day my baby died' it sounds really dramatic. It was an ectopic pregnancy which ruptured, and I nearly bled to death before I even got to theatre.

Excuse my brows, I was growing them back after shaving them off on a menstrual whim

I realised a few nights ago that it still hasn't really sunk in what happened, how close I was to death. When I say the words which describe what happened, they're just words, somehow disassociated with the events. I was thinking to myself 'You had to have a blood transfusion. You were on oxygen for 3 days solid. You lost litres of blood. You NEARLY DIED.'

I suppose I'm still in shock. None of it feels like it happened to me. When I find myself telling people about it, I must sound terribly flippant, almost as if I'm talking about it happening to someone else. I say it so matter-of-factly with no trace of emotion it must be almost as if I'm talking about having a manky toenail removed or some other minor medical procedure.

I don't know why this is. Maybe it's a coping mechanism.

I'd better get over it, because in a matter of weeks my due date will be upon us. James has got a lovely way of seeing things. When I suggested doing something on the day we were due to be parents to take away the misery of the day he said 'It's OK. We can make a new one!' Hahaha. Love that man.

Thanks for reading.