The Night I Will Never Forget

For several weeks following the news of my miscarriage I continued to bleed and spot. Never enough to cause concern, just annoying. I was absolutely devastated by the loss of my first pregnancy. It's something you never believe is going to happen to you. In actuality, odds are pretty good that it has or will happen to you. Early pregnancy loss is estimated to occur in 50% or more of women. That includes miscarriages that happen so early you may not have even known you were pregnant. I wish that is what had happened to me instead of the agonizing journey I ended up on.

One night, in early to mid November of 2002, I headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed. I started having this feeling like I needed to have a bowel movement. When I sat down nothing happened. I strained a little and still nothing. After a few minutes I started to feel pain in addition to the pressure. It wasn't long before the blackness started to creep in and I knew I was going to pass out. I leaned against the wall and allowed it to happen. When I came to all I could think about was how embarrassed I was for passing out while I was sitting on the toilet. I struggled a little more with the rectal pressure I was feeling, but couldn't do much about it because the pain that had started previously was becoming worse by the second. Within a couple of minutes it was so bad that I couldn't stand it. I vaguely remember crawling out of the bathroom to find my DH and get help. My abdomen and my shoulder (!?!) hurt so bad! I could tell how serious he thought the situation was when his whole demeanor changed. He insisted we go to the ER. I got dressed and somehow got myself to the car.

At the ER we went through the normal process. Check-in, wait, register, wait. Luckily, it was quiet that night. I was holding it together pretty well, even though I had never been in this much pain in my life. And let me tell you, I've had my share of ER visits for broken bones, stitches, etc. This was worse than anything else I had ever experienced. There's a foggy memory of Letterman, or maybe Leno, on the waiting room TV. All of a sudden I knew I was going to pass out again. I did the only thing that made sense to me at that moment; I started to lay down on the floor. To this day I tell people that if they ever want to get into triage at the ER in record time to just crawl onto the floor. They immediately brought me in and started asking me all kinds of questions while taking my vitals. Two things stand out for me from that encounter. First when they asked me if I could be pregnant. I told them that I had recently had a miscarriage and was still bleeding. The second being if I had any other pain. I told them my shoulder hurt, but it just felt like I had done something to throw it out. I guess I remember those details because they are the only things I told them that might have given them some clue as to what was happening to me.

After I made it through triage they got me into a room. The night was pretty excruciating. I remember that I had two pelvic exams and an ultrasound. They hooked me up to an IV and kept pushing fluids since my blood pressure was a little low. I also got a few doses of Morphine when the pain became too intense. At some point in the early hours, my DH, who had spent a fair amount of time trying to sleep on the floor in the corner, called my parents, who lived 2 hours away, to let them know something was going on with me. They must have gotten in the car pretty quickly because it felt like very little time went by before they were there. Somewhere around 7 am or so I started drinking the barium needed for a CT Scan. And this is where it starts to get exciting.

I hadn't gotten a ton of the disgusting barium down before a bunch of people were all of a sudden swarming around me. I was no longer going for a CT because someone had finally figured out what was happening with me. I now know that a shift change had happened and the new OB who took over (my savior, Dr. P) looked at my chart and immediately knew that I was suffering from a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. Everyone was really good about not acting too panicky, but it has become clear looking back that I was suddenly an emergent case. Everyone started moving with a quiet urgency that I often see now on medical dramas.

I think I got some more Morphine and then two nurses came in to insert a catheter. Between the meds and the amount of pain I was already in, it didn't bother me as much as they seemed to think that it should. I remember the nurse really struggling for a while to get it in. Suddenly she was successful and quickly discovered what had been impeding her progress. In the bag was a HUGE blood clot that had been blocking the way. I know this because she showed it to me and explained what happened and how it was not a good sign. In the fogginess of the moment, I didn't care in the least. One thing I do remember from that time before they started wheeling me to the OR was my mother. Upon learning that her daughter was going to have surgery on her reproductive organs, she started to freak out and ask about harvesting my eggs to freeze. I know she was looking out for me, but it seems to me that she didn't really understand what was happening. I suppose, I didn't really either, at the time.

The journey to the OR was torturous! I thought I had been in pain before. That was nothing compared to the agony I experienced every time they wheeled me over a threshold. I knew I was going to die from the pain at any moment. In the pre-op area I was rushed through the consent forms as I was having trouble staying conscious. It wasn't long before I was under the lights and being told I was going to start drifting off to sleep. As is normal when put under anesthesia, the next thing I knew I was waking up somewhere else. Post-op, I'm sure.

Things are foggy from there for a while. I know my DH was there with me. I'm also sure they gave me a report of how things went but I don't recall it at all. I do, however, remember a couple of the important pieces that my DH shared with me. They had attempted a laparoscopy (inserting a scope through a small incision in my navel), but had been unable because of the amount of blood. Instead they'd had to perform a laparotomy (a horizontal incision across my lower abdomen right where a C-section would be). I'd lost my right tube. That part was expected. What surprised me was that my shoulder pain had actually been related. It's what they call referred pain. I was bleeding internally so badly that the blood was filling up my abdominal cavity, putting pressure on my diaphragm and lungs, thus causing the pain in my shoulder. I lost more than 50% of my blood internally! Not good. After a while, they transported me to a room in the Mother & Baby unit. Luckily I was unaware of the fact that women were happily giving birth to their babies mere feet from my room. Just the kind of torture I needed in that moment.

I spent 2 days or so in the hospital with my DH always by my side. The pain was still excruciating, but getting better. I'm sure I couldn't have done it without the meds. At some point they made me get out of bed. At the time I thought it was the hardest thing I'd ever done. Let me tell you, there have been days since when I was totally healthy but had a much harder time getting out of bed. I had no idea of what my future held. I was having trouble getting my blood oxygen levels back up and kept having to do breathing exercises. I found them annoying.

Eventually I went home where I continued my recovery. It was slow and I felt like I'd never move normally again. About 4 weeks after the incident, I returned to work, slowly. With time I started to feel more like myself. However, I never did recover completely. Who I am will never be the same; I am forever changed by the night I will never forget.

The Beginning

It all started in October of 2002.

One Sunday afternoon I took a pregnancy test as a precautionary measure before resuming my birth control pills after a 2 month hiatus. During these 2 months my DH and I had not done anything to prevent a pregnancy, but we also hadn't "tried" either. We decided that whatever happened was meant to be. So, while my DH was out of the apartment for a short time, I took a HPT that I knew would be negative since I had had my period already and was actually still spotting. So I'm sure you can imagine my shock when a positive sign IMMEDIATELY appeared on the stick. I didn't know what to think. I mean, as long as I can remember I've wanted children, so there was some excitement, but mostly I was just completely flabbergasted. That was nothing compared to what happened when my DH came back. He immediately knew something was up, but I couldn't even speak to him. I had to lead him into the bathroom and just point at the stick sitting on the edge of the sink. At first he didn't know what he was looking at. I think that was just denial. When he realized all he could do was let his mouth hang open. We spent the rest of the day in shock, which for me transformed into excitement after a short while.

The following day I went to the doctor for confirmation. Sure enough I was pregnant. But what about the continued bleeding/spotting? Well, they sent me for a quantitative blood test and scheduled an ultrasound and another blood test several days later. The ultrasound did not go well. They could find nothing in my uterus. When they received the second blood test results my hCG levels had decreased since the previous test. Their conclusion was that I had miscarried. I was devastated. In the 10 short days or so since the initial HPT I had fallen in love with being pregnant and the idea of having a baby 9 months later. Losing this pregnancy was, by far, the worst thing that had ever happened to me. Little did I know what lie ahead.