October 15th is observed as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. It’s a day we we recognize the little angels gone too soon – whether they took their last breathe way too soon or never even got the chance to breathe. Although it’s a day devoted to this terrible loss, it’s a loss that never really goes away for the mother or the family’s who have experienced such a tragedy.
I am 1 in 4 women to experience a miscarriage. However, my miscarriage story is a bit different. You see, I had an ectopic pregnancy that could have taken my life. I was 10 month postpartum and remember finally getting my first period back. I was bleeding heavier than I had ever had, but figured it was supposed to be that way after not having it for so long. But it didn’t stop after a the normal week and I’d continue spotting about two weeks later. I honestly didn’t think anything of it given it I was a first-time mom and didn’t know better.
Then, one day, I woke up with bad cramps that wouldn’t go away no matter how much Tylenol I took. Then after I put my 11-month old son for his nap I felt the most excruciating pain on my right side of my abdomen. It was worse than kidney stones and my C-section and felt like a sharp knife going through my stomach. It lasted for a few minutes until it subsided into nagging cramps again.
For the entire afternoon and into the night, I started to look up symptoms on the web and thought my appendix had erupted. Right before bed, I kept nagging my husband to go with me to the hospital, but he’s told me if I was still feeling this way, that we’d go in the morning. Of course, I had a gut feeling something was wrong and drove myself to the ER. I waited for an hour and was finally taken to the ultra sound department to find the cause.
That’s when they asked me if I was pregnant. I told them no, but we were trying. They then began to explain to me that I was pregnant, but it was an ectopic and the egg ruptured in my right fallopian tube. In my mind, I knew the egg was not viable, but I stupidly asked if the baby would be okay. The rest of the night was a blur.
My husband finally made it to the ER after a few hours (my mom had to drive in the middle of the night to babysit my sleeping son). He felt so guilty that he wanted me to wait until morning to see a doctor, which would have been too late for me. Even the doctor and staff were astonished that I drove myself after experiencing what I did.
It’s funny because I wanted to be pregnant again before my first turned one and here I actually was, but never knew it. I barely got to mourn the baby I so longed for because I had just found out it even existed. They estimate that I was about six or seven weeks along.
Pregnancy loss stories are all different, but they all hurt just the same (and it’s not always just emotional). Mine is about a lost baby I barely knew existed, but will always be remembered.
Know that you’re not alone and if you need to talk, please reach out to us.