Journey to My Rainbow Baby

I was married in a beautiful wedding with all the trimmings on October 25th. It was a gorgeous Fall day popping with reds, oranges and yellows. A little too cold for my fantasy of releasing butterflies at the end of the ceremony. Luckily, I listened to my mom on that one. October 26th, I woke up with the craziest urge to pee. It felt strong and never ending, like it did when I was pregnant 13 years ago. Considering I was drinking last night, it should have felt like a trickle. Quickly dismissing the idea of pregnancy, I showered and started my day.

The body and instincts rarely lie. And in this case, they did not lie. A missed period and a positive pregnancy test confirmed my initial suspicions two weeks later. My goal was eventually get pregnant. Not exactly now, but eventually. This felt like an answer to prayers. A little soon but an answer none the less. Of course, I excitedly shared the news with my besties Tee and Heather. Little did I know, I would call Tee a few days later with concerns of the light brown spotting I saw on my panty liner. Both of us were registered nurses in a women’s health office. Both were adept at assessing and managing pregnancy. We agreed the brown spotting was most likely old blood related to recent intercourse. Continue observation and go from there.

The spotting increased and became light pink with twinges of pain on the right side. Now it had my complete attention. I gathered my new husband and headed to our local ED. The ultrasound confirmed my suspicion. This pregnancy was not viable. I watched as one of my favorite midwives and the OBGYN hottie reviewed my images. Their backs were facing me, their heads almost touching. Each pointing to an area I could not see on the ultrasound. Eventually, Dr. Hottie tells me it looks like I have an ectopic pregnancy in the right fallopian tube. This was definitely not going my way. My nurse brain took over. My feelings were there but I had things to get done. More labs were drawn, and I received my first injection of methotrexate. Methotrexate is a cancer medication used to eliminate fast growing cells. The cells of my baby that would never be a baby were considered fast growing. Even without methotrexate this baby would not be born. The baby would never develop inside the spaghetti sized fallopian tube. The concern was that the rapid growth of the cells could potentially rupture the fallopian tube. A ruptured fallopian is a life-threatening event involving significant blood loss. Something to be avoided at all cost.

This is where the battle began. The nurse’s brain understood there wouldn’t be a baby. The woman who was so incredibly happy to be pregnant wanted to believe anything was possible. My overthinking brain created many scenarios that would allow the baby to be viable. I was obsessed with the idea the ultrasound was read wrong even though the mass in the right tube was quite clear. My brain decided, if God wanted this pregnancy to work, it would. This seemed to be a recurring biblical theme. And I was relatively certain that was what he wanted. My brain was scrambling to hold onto any detail that would produce a healthy baby.

It was a crazy month of my emotions, oscillating between competing thoughts, weekly lab draws and feeling defeated. My numbers weren’t coming down as expected. Eventually, my OBGYN recommended a second injection of methotrexate. This was not all what I wanted. I was still feeling crappy from the first one. I wasn’t prepared to have surgery, so a second injection of Methotrexate was scheduled. Methotrexate was the least invasive method. I received my second injection the week before Thanksgiving. And by Black Friday my numbers were dropping. Yes! This was working, finally. I swear I skipped when I heard the news.

On Saturday Tee called to check in. Somewhere in the call we decided to get together with the guys and go golfing. We rented a cart so I wouldn’t have to walk the course. I mostly rode in the cart and talked crap about skills I didn’t have. Around hole nine I decided to take a swing. I felt a pop. It was painful and then it was not. I went back to riding in the cart and talking crap. Maybe a little less crap, maybe. The day ended; we said our goodbyes. Tee and I planned to see each other Monday at work.

When we got back home, I felt tired. In my mind, I was tired because of the methotrexate and our golf outing. I plopped myself on the couch, half-heartedly watching movies. I continued to feel off but nothing specific caught my attention. Some time in the middle of the night I woke up vomiting and diarrhea. I had some pain, nothing more than cramping. I chalked it up to side effects of the medicine.

When my husband woke up in the morning to find me still on the couch, he was more than a little concerned. He normally went to breakfast with his boys on Sunday mornings. He offered to stay with me. I wanted him to go. I wanted to rest and feel yucky alone. We argued with me insisting he needed to go out with his friends. I stood to emphasize my point and promptly passed out.

I woke to find myself on my new wood floor. Shit! We called our back up OB. My OB, Zylkia was in Puerto Rico for the holiday weekend. That drive into the ED was painful. Every bump sent shrills of pain through my body. I couldn’t find a comfortable spot in the seat; my shoulder was throbbing. My nurse’s brain may have been foggy, but it knew this was not good. I know we checked in the ER but I don’t remember it. My first memory is of the ultrasound tech scanning my belly. I was sitting upright and she wanted me to lay back. I couldn’t. Every time she tried to lower the bed, my pain increased exponentially. I literally shoved her hand away. I didn’t mean to, it was pure self-preservation. For some reason my husband thought he would have better luck lowering the bed. His attempt was met with the same response.

My ectopic pregnancy ruptured. Blood was filling my abdomen. So much for the less invasive approach. I was ushered off to surgery. Obviously, I was not awake for the procedure. Dr. Rod shared with me blood squirted a significant distance with his first incision. My blood loss was also significant, my hemoglobin dropped from 12 to 6. Even after receiving blood, I felt exhausted.

I was so lucky to have the support of friends. My sadness seemed worse because my mom wasn’t there. Typically, girls are daddy’s girls. This girl is a momma’s girl. She was across the continent in Australia. The process of sorting through the emotions, feeling exhausted and wimpy proceeded even without my mom being here.

At times it felt like the baby I lost would be my last. I struggled and struggled to get pregnant again. Even with the assistance of reproductive endocrinology pregnancy evaded me. Eventually, injections, hormones, timed sex and inseminations grew incredibly old. We began the process of adopting a baby girl from China. We were at the point of scheduling the home visit when I took a trip to Target. While walking I could see my boobs bouncing. The only time that happens is when I am pregnant. The impromptu purchase and completion of pregnancy in Target showed I was pregnant. My Rainbow baby was born June 25, 2004.