The following story is the account of our tragic loss and the process we've gone through so far. It's also partially a way for me to vent and not bottle up emotions.
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William and I found out that we were expecting Baby #2 in mid-September. It was a happy surprise and shortly after, it appeared that I had miscarried, so we went to my obgyn and took a few tests and had an exam. Exam was good and tests came back positive, however my hormone levels were low, so I was prescribed Progesterone pills to take very night for the next 12 weeks to aid in keeping the baby. I was told that Progesterone is the hormone that keeps that uterine lining together, thus hopefully preventing a miscarriage.
Everything seemed fine and I was glad that this time around I didn't have nausea. Our due date would be around May 15, 2015.
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Friday, October 3rd, (my mother's birthday) About 8 weeks pregnant and I didn't feel well at work; my stomach was upset, I had chills and felt feverish, so I went home. I napped and felt much better, did the laundry and got ready for mom's birthday dinner. Went out to eat and had a great time.
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Saturday, October 4th, I got up around 8am to get Nicholas out of his crib and he gave me the best hug and kiss ever! I was so happy and went to change his diaper, half way through, William walked in to help and suddenly my stomach turned so William took over and I ran to the bathroom. I had chills all over, followed by semi-diarrhea so I assumed I had the flu. I was in the bathroom for about an hour and eventually I felt the need to lay down, so I laid down on the bathroom floor. The pain never really went away but I started to get chills.
William checked on me and I believe I said that I had the flu so I was going to need some time to let it pass. I eventually crawled out of the bathroom and got myself into bed. After an hour shivering in bed, William grabbed me some toast as I was hungry and I wasn't able to eat much and then felt I needed to throw up.
I stumbled into the bathroom, hugged the bucket and woke up to William asking me if I was okay. I had passed out and fallen onto the floor, with no memory of that and I could tell that William was worried so he grabbed and dragged me into the bedroom, as I was at an awkward angle with no energy or strength to move myself. He said he was going to call my parents to come watch Nicholas and he was going to get me into the car and take me to the hospital.
He carried me downstairs and started getting the car ready, put Nicholas in his crib and I'm not sure what else as I was laying on the couch and just wanted to sleep as I had no energy.
I heard my mom come into the house and she and William tried to move me but I was barely responsive, so William quickly dialed 911. Within minutes EMT responders were in the house and about 8 men were surrounding me getting my vitals and info. We told them I was 8 weeks pregnant and then about 4 men lifted me up and onto a gurney, then rolled me out to the ambulance. The ambulance ride was very uncomfortable; I was freezing and none of the responders were able to get a blood sample from me and kept telling me to keep my eyes open. I was sooooo tired and just wanted to sleep.
2pm: the vehicle stopped and I was rolled into the ER and don't remember much. Everything happened so fast. I do remember being covered in numerous blankets and rolled over to the ultrasound area. I was excited as my first ultrasound was scheduled for today, and I was about to see my baby a few days early! I told them I probably had the flu and just needed rest and fluids, but they were more concerned that I had miscarried and everyone kept asking if I was bleeding, in which I always replied "no".
3 pm: Both ultrasound tech's wouldn't tell me anything about what they saw and I heard the woman call me up for emergency surgery. I was immediately upset - its my body and baby and I deserve to know what they saw; after all, I hadn't bled, so I knew it wasn't a miscarriage.
I was rolled into a waiting area and I saw William and he looked like he'd crying, but said he wasn't. I was still freezing, so one of the nurse's put a tube that looked like a vacuum extension on me that blew heat. It was the best I'd felt all day and I called it me new best friend. Then Dr. Parra, one of the obgyn's from the practice I visit, came over to me to tell me that he didn't see a baby in my ultrasounds and my jaw dropped - how could that be? He said that he believes I have an ectopic pregnancy (the egg was fertilized in my fallopian tube) and my first thought was "I read that Nicole Kidman had that with Tom Cruise, years ago". He said that he needed to perform surgery on me so that he could check out the situation and I signed a form allowing him to do so.
4 pm: William and I had a few moments together before I was wheeled into the surgery room. It was very emotional for me as it was the same room that my cesarian was performed in almost 1 year ago. Then the anesthesiologist asked me if I had any issues with anesthesia and I told him that last year for my c-section, I had to be slightly inverted to make the anesthesia work. A few minutes later, a mask was placed over my nose and mouth, and the nurse said it was oxygen and I needed to breathe deep. I tried and my lungs hurt to breathe deeply and I recall saying that it hurt to breathe but no one did anything and they repeated "Breathe deeply"...so I did against the pain...and began seeing stars.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I WAS OUT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
6:30 pm: I woke up and I was no longer freezing (thank goodness) and William was next to me. Dr. Parra came and told me that the baby had grown and burst my left fallopian tube, so he had to remove my tube and consequently the baby. I had lost a substantial amount of blood inside, hence why I was so cold. They needed to monitor me, and the nurse asked if it would be okay to put me in the Mother/Baby unit or if I'd prefer to be in the other recovery area. The obgyn's generally visit their patients in the Mother/Baby unit so I agreed to it.
7:00 pm: We went up to the Maternity wing and nostalgia hit me again. I started wondering if I had made a mistake being around pregnant women and newborns, after I had just learned that I lost my own child. Tears welled up in my eyes as I neared my recovery room and saw a postcard with a image of a leaf with a droplet of water on it taped to the door, which indicated that the patient in the room is recovering from a loss.
The nurses transferred me from the gurney to the room bed and for the next couple hours I was a pin cushion, as they needed to test my hemoglobin level and get an IV in me.
8:30 pm: Eventually my parents came to visit and bring Nicholas. I was so happy to be alive and see him, but he really just wanted to run around and my recovery room wasn't the best place. At one point, a nurse came in and mentioned that children under 18 weren't allowed to visit due to a virus, however, given our circumstance being a loss, she said that she "didn't see him" and walked out. We were thankful that she gave us some more time with him, but knew that he couldn't come back to visit, so thankfully Grandma and Grandpa Lawrenz took him for an overnight.
I asked William to stay the night as I wasn't ready to be by myself, especially during this time. I don't even think he was considering NOT being by my side, but I knew I needed to tell him so that he knew how I felt. He was given blankets and pillows to use on the room's pull-out couch.
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Sunday, October 5th, I woke up around 5 am and had to take my pills, plus about every 2 hours, a phlebotomist came in to take my blood for a cbc, so my right arm was very abused.
William woke up and we ordered breakfast, and then waited for Dr. Parra to come by check on me. I was excited for the next nurse who came in; Paula - she was the first nurse who helped out when Nicholas was born AND she remembered us - even after 1 year! She had paperwork to go through with us; I had to make a decision on how I wanted the "product of conception" to be taken care of. I chose to have the hospital Chaplain/Priest bless our baby and then cremate it. They offered to have a funeral, but at that time I just couldn't do it. She also gave me a packet of grief counseling papers. During those moments, I realized that it doesn't matter how old your child is, losing them is one of the hardest events to ever go through. I will never see his/her smile, or hold their hand...I never got to even meet him/her, but our child will always be in my memory and my heart. I know we will be together in heaven.
When Dr. Parra did come in, he was very thorough and actually showed me pictures of my damaged tube, the bleeding, etc. It was a bit uncomfortable but it did help to see what happened and understand it better.
I know that God was watching out for us, as I noticed Dr. Parra wore a small, gold crucifix and told me that our Creator has a plan and design for everything. He spoke to us as if we were friends and explained that ectopic pregnancies are actually very common; his wife had one and he operated on her, removing one of her tubes and they still had 3 kids after!
That little bit of hope was very comforting. He had gone in laproscopically with only 3 small incisions and removed my damaged tube with 8 week old baby as he couldn't save it; it's not possible to transfer the fetus into the uterus. However, my right fallopian tube is still good and I have both good ovaries. He said that the one fallopian tube can pick up an egg from either ovary. There is still a 15% chance of having another ectopic pregnancy, as the female system apparently acts like a mirror. There is no way to prevent it, however I will have to be monitored very carefully should I get pregnant again. If it's suspected to be another tubal implantation by early detection, I will have to have surgery and they'll have to remove the egg if early enough, or both the egg and tube. In which case we could freeze my eggs and I would have to try in-vitro for the next time.
Hopefully, God-willing, if we give ourselves some time and heal, should we be blessed with another child, there is an 85% chance that everything will be fine.
Later that day, my temperature kept fluctuating and my heart beating too fast, so I was given another blood transfusion.
That night, William and I spent time together and mourned our loss.
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Monday, October 6th, after slowly walking and moving around, I was ready to go. My levels were better and my temperature improved. I wanted to see Nicholas so bad! After another doctor came in to check on me, I was released. We went home and I was so happy when my parents brought Nicholas home. We hung out and relaxed.
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Tuesday, October 7th, I was sitting on the couch around lunch time and turned to grab my water off the tray table behind me. I felt a slight pull on my stitches and winced. Around 2 pm, I went to the bathroom and noticed bruising right beneath one of my incisions. I showed William and we noted it, and then after dinner around 7:30 I noticed the bruises had spread, so I called my nurse hotline and we were recommended to go to the ER and get checked.
I was not happy because I knew they'd have to take my blood again and give me another IV. I have Reyanud's Syndrome, so my circulatory system reacts very strongly to temperature. As I was waiting in the ER I was getting a bit light headed and eventually four nurses tried poking me in both arms and couldn't get blood. I had to be wrapped up in heating blankets and they had to get an ultrasound machine in to find my veins and of course found the most uncomfortable spot, which was above my elbow under my arm.
I was sent for a CAT scan and it showed that I had a pit of pooled blood which looked like it came from a popped suture. The good news is that it stopped, I was put on an antibiotic and my hemoglobin level had risen 1 point, so my body is recovering fast. The bad news is that I'm not allowed to do much. I can't twist or carry anything, which includes Nicholas. Until I'm healed I am pretty much forced to be lazy, and I know it's for my own well-being, especially since I can't move very fast, but I don't like feeling helpless.
