Last year

In 2016 I was pregnant three times and I had no babies.

In March 2016 I woke up after a rather large night (don’t judge I had no idea what was about to happen) and realised I had not had a proper period for a while. I scooted off down to the supermarket to buy a pregnancy test to rule out being pregnant and what would you know… there was two faint pink lines. I one of my best friend’s in the city to ask her opinion and she quickly demanded a picture. As the photo was sending I repeatedly jibbered on about it being negative and how I am not at all pregnant.

“Oh my god you’re fucking pregnant”. Ok not what I expected. I went back down to the supermarket to get more tests to prove her wrong. As I returned home I almost tripped over my partner who was sitting on the step. “What’s up with you?” he asked not knowing the gigantic can of worms he was opening. “I’m pregnant but I can’t be. Don’t worry I bought another test because it’s not right.”

But it was right. At least until a couple of weeks later when I started to bleed and I lost everything I had ever wanted. We were devastated but we realised in those hours when I weeped for the part of me that died that this was something we actually both wanted. The few people around us who knew tried to comfort us by saying “at least you can get pregnant” or “you can always try again”. I learnt that when you lose a baby “at least” means nothing. It all means nothing.

I remember less of our loss in August 2016 as I had just started a new job and I was trying to be good at it. I tried to push all the feelings out of my body with little consequence. I predictably failed at this and mourned this loss just as deeply but at this point I started to wonder if there was a pattern or a failure on my part.

November 2016 brought another pregnancy and again a few weeks later a some bleeding although less than before. This pregnancy was again marked by emergency scans and blood tests every 48 hours. When the pregnancy hormone HCG dropped a little accompanied with the bleeding I was told I had lost the baby again in a story that had become to familiar to me. Again I spent hours crying in my car or yelling at my partner for not having a break down on the same scale. Little did I know that his break downs take place privately in silence as when he was around me he needed to show strength.

I was advised by my GP to continue to have weekly blood tests until the HCG level had returned to zero to ensure everything had passed. At this point I was crying every time I had bloods taken and I was tired of the constant medical surveillance so I opted out.

Just a couple of weeks later on 12th December I had some light bleeding and I knew something wasn’t quite right. I went back to the GP who ordered a blood test and I was to return the next day for results. The next day was my birthday and my parents were visiting so I didn’t make it back to the medical centre. On Friday 16th December my parents boarded their flight and my partner asked me about the results. I admitted that I had not been back to get them so I went down to the GPs and found some disturbing news. My HCG levels had pinged back up indicating an ectopic pregnancy. I needed to go immediately for a scan and then back to the GP for the result. The GP actually said she had been calling me and had written to me as this could now be an emergency.

I’ll spare every detail but it went a little like this… scan could not confirm or rule out an ectopic so I was sent to emergency anyway. ER doctors do not have a scan so although a trainee doctor did do an external one just to practice this also showed nothing. I was released and somewhere along the way I was referred to the early pregnancy unit at the same hospital. On the following Monday they did locate the pregnancy in my right tube and decided that the best cause of action was to give me methotrexate in the form of an injection. This is the same medication used for chemotherapy and required me to sign a load of disclaimers including one saying that we would not try for a baby for a minimum of 3 months.

I did promise to spare all the details so let me skip forward to Saturday 24th December when my right fallopian tube burst at work which saw me rushed to hospital in an ambulance to have the tube removed. Happy Christmas to us.

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