Back to life, back to reality......

I have finally returned to work. I knew I was ready as there was very little dread associated with it, like there was a week or two ago . This time, I just felt like "It's time to go back" and it was. Several weeks ago, I was too raw, emotionally and physically, but things have almost resolved back to normal with my body and I have started the process of "moving on".

There are several things I have not shared with my readers, in part because I wanted to protect my privacy but also because I felt that putting what has been going on into words, would it make it more "real" somehow. Part of me has buried those memories because they have just been too horrible for me to face and so, I am like the ostrich with his head in the sand.

But, I am ready to share these thoughts with you now, because I did so upon my return to work with my fellow nurses, who I knew would understand the severity and implications of the situation, and I found that it made me feel better to talk about it and get it out.

So, I told you that I had a miscarriage, and that is true in part. What I did not tell you was that, in reality, I had a confirmed ectopic pregnancy. What is the difference, you ask? The difference is that during a miscarriage, the women's body rejects the embryo generally because of some kind of chromosomal abnormality. It is kind of like nature's way of ensuring that we have the healthiest offspring possible, I guess. But, an ectopic pregnancy is a different animal entirely. An ectopic pregnancy is where a perfectly healthy, normal baby implants in the fallopian tubes, because it cannot get out and implant itself in the uterus. In my case, the baby could not get out due to leftover scar tissue in my fallopian tubes, from the surgery I had to restore my fertility.

It is a dangerous position to be in because what happens is the baby grows and grows until it finally ruptures your fallopian tube and causes massive internal bleeding, which in turn can cause death.

Sooo, even though it was futile, I was hoping and praying that maybe some miracle would happen to somehow "fix" this situation. I wanted to save this perfect baby that was just in the wrong place.

Now I'm crying again.

It bothers me to know that there was nothing wrong with this baby. That is was perfect and good, but was just in the wrong spot. I think I would have felt better if it were just a regular miscarriage because then I could of held on to the fact that the embryo was probably sick or diseased.

What happened next is probably something that will remain with me for the rest of my life. I'm sure I will feel the guilt of the decision I had to make, until I am old and gray.

There are only three possible things that can be done for an ectopic pregnancy. #1 is "Watchful Waiting", where your blood is monitored every 2 days for pregnancy hormones. The hope with watchful waiting is that nature will take it's course and resolve the pregnancy on it's own without any additional intervention. #2 is "Surgery", where they go in and remove the tube, thus eliminating any chance for tubal rupture and hemorrhage. It also removed your tube entirely and reduces your chance for further pregnancies by half. #3 is "Methotrexate". This option scares the shit out of me. Methotrexate is a type of Chemotherapy. It disrupts rapid cell division and kills the baby. Good times.

I immediately chose option #1, because I was hoping for that miracle. But when things got to the point where it was dangerous and I could of bled to death at anytime, it was time for me to chose another option. The doctors wanted me to chose #3, I didn't want to and refused and so we waited another week. It got bad enough during the course of this week that I eventually gave in and picked #3 :( I was in constant pain, I had been bleeding for 3 weeks, I couldn't work and I would lie awake at night and wonder if this was the night that my tube would rupture and I would bleed to death in my sleep.

It was time.

So, basically, I was still pregnant up to a week ago and then I took 2 shots of chemo and killed my baby. A big part of me feels like a murderer. Like, I agreed to kill my own baby, so that I could live. I feel like a horrible, horrible person and I am so ashamed.

And so now, I have written these words out for everyone to see, and it is real to me now. There is no more hiding, this is what really happened. It is time to let the tears fall and grieve the loss of this beautiful, perfect little soul that died so that I could live.

I feel consummed with sadness and guilt.