I have had this blank blog page up for over two hours now.
I know that I need to type this out. tell every one the truth. mostly because it has been a burden hanging around my neck dragging me down. Hold me hostage. And until I speak of it openly and honestly I will never be free from it.
its something that I’m still having a hard time accepting. So hard that I have literally lied to everyone I know about it.
Please note that I’m not posting what I’m about ready to type out as a feel sorry for me, or anything else really, I’m just freeing myself from the lie of it.
So here goes.
January 31, ,2011 was the second worse day of my life. Only next to February 1, 2011.
The 31st was a Monday.
I went to school despite the pain I had in my abdomen. That had started the day before, the same day I got annoyed with my mom because she wasn’t as sympathetic to the fact Haylie dumped orange juice all over my computer which contained my life basically. My stomach hurt, I was coughing, I didn’t feel good, but I made it through the day because school had really just started and I wanted to have an outstanding semester. By late afternoon my abdomen hurt so bad that I needed to know why. I went to the evil site of web md to try to figure it out. I realized that it could have something to do with the particular type of birth control I had at the time. So I went to the website for Mirena which is an internal birth control that can prevent pregnancy up to five years. Which when I got it was very ideal. The website said that if it was causing pain it could have moved or I could be pregnant.
That was the really moment that I was not expecting. So since Mirena messed with my period as it was I would keep pregnancy test on hand just to honestly monitor myself. I happened to have one on hand so I peed on the stick.
Within moments it shows positive.
To say I freaked out would be a total understatement.
While the timing would be horrible with school and life, I wanted a baby. Had been wanting a baby. Been talking to Phil for weeks on and off how much I wanted a baby.
I was pregnant.
I go back to the Mirena website. basically in a nut shell it said if i was preggers to see a doctor asap. That it could cause serious problems. Could have serious complications.
Freaking out is again an understatement. I call Phil. Tell him what I’ve found out. Tell him I need him to pick up Haylie because I’m going to Urgent Care.
Where I sit for hours. HOURS! (at least two)
When I finally see a doctor they are more concerned with the fact I have symptoms of the flu. While they did do the preggers test, they were more concern that had the flu. PS the flu test of giant cue tip stuck up the nose is awful.
So they finally decide I am in fact pregnant. But because of my birth control it is dangerous, so they want me to go straight to the ER.
Shock. utter shock.
and to top it all off my cell phone is dead.
the doctor at urgent care let me use his phone to call Phil who at the point needed to come get me and take me to the ER because I needed him.
The ER is more concern about my flu, and tell me to wear a mask. They take forever to get me back to triage. I mean as far a I know it my world is upside down. They should be rushing around getting me to a room and doctor. Not treating me like a flu patient making me wait for what feels like hours. Which I do believe I sat in the waiting room for a few hours.
The triage nurse is for lack of better word a jerk. blah blah flu, blah blah symptoms about flu, blah blah flu. Finally I reach my point with her, and to be honest that didn’t take long. I jump on her case, that I’m pregnant with a IUD (aka the birth control) that it is dangerous to not only my health but the health of my baby. That I don’t care about the flu. That if she says flu one more time I’m gonna freak out.
Not long after that I get back into a room with a nurse that isn’t jerkzella.
All this time I’m in a world of hurt(my abdomen), and I’m grouchy because I haven’t eaten anything but a few donuts from a vending machine.
Things start happening in the slow-paced way it does at the ER. Nurses come in and out. Test are run. Possible solutions are thrown around.
Finally the IUD is removed. And just like that. Pain is gone. I think at this point things might be ok. I really believe at this point that I can go home rest for a few days and then in nine months have the baby that I’ve been wanting so badly. I mean it was a fluke to get pregnant with a birth control, so now that the problem of pain is out things can be normal.
But they couldn’t be normal. It was determined that this pregnancy was an ectopic pregnancy. This meant that if I tried to continue this pregnancy I would die.
No other option.
Because the pregnancy was located in my tube. It would rupture and I would bleed out. Death.
That was eye-opening. I never heard the word death in associated with my life. The doctor started to talk about how they had to operate and flush out the tube and fix the damage that the IUD had caused. Apparently an ovary was bleeding as it was.
There wasn’t really a choice in the matter. I would be staying in the hospital, I would be operated on Feb 1st at like the awful hour of six am. It was close to midnight now. Haylie had school the next day. Heck so did I. But the world stopped for me knowing that this was happening.
This was real.
I was no longer going to be pregnant.
I was loosing my baby.
I was going to have a surgery.
I was going to spend the night in the hospital.
I was not okay.
I called Brittany. I told her I needed a favor. I needed her to go to my house. I needed her to watch Haylie until morning. She agreed. Phil left to meet her at my house. I called mom. I then waited.
Waited for Phil to come back.
Waited for the nightmare to be over with.
Once Phil got back, the nurse gave me something that knocked me out. Sleep wasn’t easy. But it was there.
The nurse came back the next morning to prep me for surgery. The bed moved. The nurses talked. Phil signed papers. Warnings about the operation. Then it was about to start. I moved my self from the bed to the table and I have never been so scared. I was scared when I was giving birth to Haylie and it moved to an OR. But not like this. This had me shaking to my core. I laid back and they gave me the oxygen or whatever and I prayed like I never had before. I just kept asking God to keep me safe and somehow someway save my baby. I begged Dear Jesus please. Until I was knocked out.
The next thing I know I was being awaken. I’m in a corner of a new room, must be recovery my brain says. The doctor comes and talks to me but I really don’t understand his words, or can function enough to know what he is saying. I’m in and out of it, I know I’m being moved and Phil is there.
The next few hours are spent not really feeling just going through motions.
When I finally get home, I feel like I have been run over by a freight train, and a few mack trucks.
Outside of worrying about school. My family is falling apart. Rylynn has moved out on Grandma Jewell. Grandma Jewell is currently being a nut case accusing Rylynn of things that she would never dream of doing. The family is divided. There is all sorts of stress with that.
I make the mistake of posting on Facebook about my surgery (a very light heart post) so people will know why I’m not in class. Which turns into a debacle because I didn’t want my family knowing what I had just been through because 80% of the time the family is only a few pleasantries at get togethers, not the “hard-core I have your back and care about you and would do anything for you no matter what” family. Well they got pissed because I got pissed that they picked that day to care.
Which in my mind came down to them being angry because they weren’t included. When quite frankly they are never really included. Nor do they ever seem to really want to be.
But the Facebook incident causes more strife which is something I never wanted. I was just hurt that for some reason I was given the one thing I wanted only to have it ripped away from me. I was in pain and I think looking back on that not so shiny moment of my life I just wanted others to be hurting very badly.
That believe is why I feel I picked a fight with Trista via the internet. Saying things that I would have normally said. Because it’s not the way I feel. But I wanted a fight.
Then there was my internal issues. Of why did this happen to me? Why didn’t God answer my prayers the way I wanted. Why did he let this happen to me? I hated that he allowed this awful thing happen to me. I failed to trust in God, the God I had trusted in over so many points in my life. But now I just didn’t care. I was so angry with him that I couldn’t see straight. I didn’t understand. I have seen true miracles in my life, yet I was not good enough to have a miracle in my own life. Which now I know is silly, and there was a reason that this time the answer was no. I may not know that reason, but there is. But at the time I just was angry.
Life picked up and I threw my entire focus into school. I just needed to focus on school and I would be fine, well that is what I told myself.
The worse day of post surgery horribleness was when I was sitting in church, and looked over to see a woman about my age five or six months pregnant. All I could do was cry. Cried the entire time. Because that could have been me. Obviously not that far along, but along nonetheless. I just cried and cried and cried.
I cried a lot in February. Always at home. (with the one time exception of church) Always to Phil, because I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it. I just couldn’t.
Two of my friend knew. Brittany because she deserved to know because she was so kind to take care of Haylie those few hours. and eventually Laura, because I needed to tell someone.
I just didn’t think I could handle anyone knowing the truth.
How would I deal with their sympathy. I didn’t think well. So I started to lie. I lied and lied and lied.
Why did you need surgery? Because my birth control moved and caused damage.
It was close enough to the truth that I didn’t feel all that horrible about the lie, but it was a lie none the less.
That is the lie I’ve continued to tell until this moment.
Feb 1st my ectopic pregnancy was stopped to save my life. It was horrible awful and not to be clichéd but life changing.
I’m better now. I’ve accepted that this is a chapter in my story. One I can’t hide because I don’t like it. I’m grateful for the daughter I have, and had with no complications. I look forward to the day when I can have another without any problems.
While a part of my heart will always wonder what my unborn child would be like, I will be happy to know that are with God in Heaven. And while I was angry with him, it wasn’t his fault, He didn’t cause this. In fact he carried me though it so I could heal and survive.
Again I must state I’m not looking for sympathy. I just need to tell the truth of my story. I needed to stop the lie.
If you read this, thank you, it is over 2000 words, so for reals thank you.
that is all.