Kristi's Story -- A lonely journey through ectopic pregnancy

I'm honored to share Kristi's story of a loss due to ectopic pregnancy.

Her story highlights several factors that are unique to an ectopic pregnancy or other early pregnancy loss:

• A husband often feels so different than the mom about the loss because he hasn't had a chance to bond with the baby.
• His reactions are often NOT helpful to the mom, which can make the loneliness in an early loss that much more painful. (Though I admit that his actions legitimately might be helpful to him.)
• Ectopics are hard for doctors to diagnose. This is why it's so important that we moms are in tune to our bodies and demand the care we (and our babies) deserve. When something is wrong, we have to trust our instincts.
• Medical personnel often don't treat ectopic pregnancies as the loss of a baby. The lack of compassion gives off the the feeling that we are just being "drama" and that "people miscarry every day, so what's the big deal?" The lack of validation for our loss -- and, therefore, the invalidation for our grief -- creates a very tricky journey of grief to navigate.

Her story also highlights what I'm sure all of us in the pregnancy-loss camp would agree with:

• Your loss changes you in a deep and profound way. And no matter how much you want to go back in time and have things the way they always were . . . you simply can't. And that is really hard to deal with.
• Your loss opens you up to a new world . . . a world of grief. A world where babies die. And a world that will probably never feel safe to you again.

On Christmas Eve, I was finishing up work and noticed that my eyes kept getting blurry and I felt dizzy.

Earlier in the week, I had started to wonder if I could possibly be pregnant because I wasn't feeling the usual signs of menstruation about to start, and I was tired more and having some nausea. So after the blurry vision and dizziness started that night, I decided to take another pregnancy test. (I had taken one a few days earlier which was negative, but thought it might have been too early to test.)
When I saw a faint second line on the test, I was overcome with joy . . . as well as full of anxiety about how my husband would feel. I decided not to say anything to him until I saw the doctor on Monday and knew for sure. 

On Sunday, Christmas Day, the spotting began.


It seemed to take forever waiting for Monday morning to come so I could call the doctor's office.  When Monday morning came, my husband planned a last-minute trip out of town to drop off some car parts at a machine shop and maybe to stop on our way out to see one of his daughters who is pregnant. While he was loading up the van, I called the doctor's office and found out that they were closed that day.

On the way to my step-daughter's house, I suddenly had to throw up, and hung my head out of the window to do so. When we got to the house, my daughter immediately told her half-sister about mommy throwing up, and she in turn immediately asked me, "What are you, pregnant?" I just kind of brushed it off, but told her later when we were alone that I thought I might be. 

Later that day, I admitted to my husband that I could be pregnant, and as I feared, he wasn't happy about it. He was constantly being negative about it, saying that he was too old to have another baby (he was 42 and I was 34) and that he had nothing to show for his life.

When we got home, we noticed our pet guinea pig was acting funny and wouldn't eat. I called and made an emergency visit to the vet and found out that she had an obstruction probably from chewing on the string to my pajamas a few days earlier, and she might not make it.

The next morning, the vet called to tell us that the guinea pig didn't make it. Then I went to the doctor and anxiously waited in the room for the doctor to come in and tell me for sure if I was pregnant. With my husband acting the way he was, I didn't know how to feel.

When the doctor came in, I could tell she looked nervous. She told me that the urine test came back negative but would call me with the results of the blood test. I immediately started crying and told her that I wasn't sure if I wanted to be pregnant because of the way my husband was treating me. I had wanted a baby for so long and just wished he could be as happy as I was.

I left the doctor's office and went to the vet's office to pick up our dead guinea pig. The nurse called me later with the blood test result and told me that I was pregnant. According to the hCG number, I was about 5 weeks along. Because of the spotting and cramping, I had to keep having my hCG checked.

The following weekend, my husband actually came with me and my daughter to my parents' house  to celebrate Christmas (which is something he never does.) We had a good weekend . . . we bought a couple of new guinea pigs, and he seemed to be taking the pregnancy news better, even though he never talked about the baby. The spotting had stopped for most of the weekend, until it started back up on New Year's Day.

That next Wednesday, my husband was being a total jerk . . . ranting and raving about everything except what was really bothering him (which I knew was the baby), and then storming out to his shop without even saying goodbye. My cramping had gotten much worse that morning, and I finally decided that afternoon to drive myself to the ER. 

I dropped off my daughter at the shop with him and told him where I was going. I spent several hours alone in the ER waiting to have a transvaginal and abdominal ultrasound. The doctor told me that my hCG levels had been very low for as far along as I was. (The doctor's office had always told me they were rising, but I guess they were never doubling like they should.)

The woman who did the ultrasounds is an old friend of mine, and I could tell from her face that something was wrong. The doctor told me I could just not be as far along as everyone thought (which I knew exactly when I conceived), or it could be either an ectopic pregnancy or an impending miscarriage. With no solid answer, they sent me home.

That Friday, the doctor's office called and told me that my hCG dropped a little and that the doctor wanted to try another ultrasound that Monday. The weekend seemed to drag on forever waiting for Monday to come. When I had the ultrasound, once again I was told that they couldn't see anything on the sonogram, but that my cervix was still closed. The official report came back saying that there was no evidence of an ectopic, and that the radiologist believed it was consistent with an early pregnancy. 

But the next morning, while I was working, I could feel the bleeding start. I ran into the bathroom and saw that the bleeding had gotten heavier. I told my husband I believed I could be miscarrying.  He had a physical therapy appointment he was getting ready to go to for his shoulder surgery, and I told him to go ahead and go. As the bleeding continued to get heavier, I called the doctor's office and they told me to come in and get checked. 

I was devastated to hear that my cervix was now open. It was hard to listen to a baby crying in the room next to me as I waited for my hCG number to come back. My number had risen a little and was told it could be an impending miscarriage or an ectopic pregnancy, or that my pregnancy still could be viable. Again, I was told I should just go home and rest. 

When I got home, I decided to take a bath to help relax. When I got out, I started to freak out when I saw that there was blood running down my leg and that the tub was filled with blood and several clots, including one the size of my hand. I yelled for my husband to come in, and he helped me get dressed and had me lie down. 

I called the ER since the doctor's office was closed and told them what happened and what the doctor had told me. Once they heard which doctor's office I went to (the hospital and a doctor at the clinic are in the middle of a lawsuit and he is banned from the hospital), they told me that I was having a miscarriage and there was nothing they could do for me. They told me to come in if I was bleeding through more than two pads in a half an hour. 

The bleeding stopped a few hours later, but the following night, I was cramping a lot worse. I had taken a Percocet and it wasn't doing anything to help with the pain. I called the ER again and told them that my doctor told me it could be ectopic, and again (once they heard what clinic I went to), they told me that if the doctor really believed I could have an ectopic, they would have done something by now. They inisisted I should just take another Percocet.

The next day, I had another hCG drawn. I was sure that it would be 0, and that I had miscarried. Instead, I was shocked to hear that my number had gone up again. 

The next week, my hCG levels kept rising slowly, but still nothing showed on the ultrasound. My doctor referred me to a gynecologist out of town who wanted to see me the next day. He told me that there was no way that this was a viable pregnancy and that he believed it was in my right tube. He said that on the ultrasound, there was more fluid developing around that tube. The ultrasound also showed fluid behind my cervix and around both ovaries and tubes. 

I told him about all the bleeding the week before, and he was shocked about that, too. Nobody could explain what was going on. My case was not the typical ectopic. 

The doctor suggested that I have the methotrexate injection. [This is a drug that will dissolve the baby and placenta, which would help prevent further damage to the tube.]

I had to wait for the pharmacy to get it ready, so we left to go shopping and kill time for a couple of hours before wereturned. By this time, the wating room was full of pregnant women and women with new babies. I couldn't stop crying as I waited for them to call my name. 

When the nurses brought me back to the room, and I saw the sonogram machine and the chart on the wall showing the various stages of pregnancy, I bawled harder than I ever have in my life. After the nurses gave me the two injections in my hips, they let me out the back way, so I wouldn't have to see all the pregnant women again. 

I cried the whole way home. I had told my husband that it made it even harder knowing this was my last chance to have a baby. At first, he seemed to be more open to trying again, but he hasn't even touched me in so long, like he's afraid I'll get pregnant again.

 I feel so alone. Not a single day goes by that I don't think about the baby. It's my first thought upon waking and my last thought before going to sleep each night. 

Tomorrow I go back to see the doctor who gave me the methotrexate injection to have an HSG test. [This is a test where they inject die into your tubes to see how if there is any blockage.] I am anxious to find out how much damage to my tubes there has been. 

I have had two laparoscopic surgeries in the past, with lots of scar tissue, adhesions and cysts having to be removed. I developed pelvic inflamatory disease after the second surgery, so I am worried what the doctor will find. I don't know if my husband will be coming with me or not. I might be going through this alone as well. 

I just wish I could back in time before any of this ever happened. It's so hard even getting on Facebook now, especially when I see pregnancy updates from two of my step-daughters, some friends, and my husband's cousin. It seeems like every day, somebody else is announcing their pregnancy. I even had to suspend my account for awhile because it just got to be too much to bear.

I don't like this woman who I have become . . . this woman who is angry and hurting all the time . . . this woman who knows that everything that you have ever wanted can be taken from you just like that, and there's nothing you can do about it.


A word to other mommas . . .

I would tell other women going through this that they should not be afraid to let their feelings out . . . that it's okay to be angry, it's okay to be sad. I felt so bad at first that I was angry at God until I talked to my pastor, and he made me realize that it's okay and natural to be angry with God, and that "God's got big shoulders and can take it."

I also have realized that I feel a lot of guilt and anger at myself. I've realized that I sometimes blame myself for being anxious about being pregnant, that maybe somehow my fears caused it. I also have been so angry at my husband for his reaction to my pregnancy and have blamed him, but I know deep down it's not anybody else's fault that this happened, that no one caused it. 

Also, it's very important and helpful to reach out to others who have been there for help to get you through it. I feel so alone with my friends and family, because none of them have any ideas what I am going through, so the support pages on Facebook have been a godsend for me.


Thank you, Kristi, for sharing your story of your baby, and the experience of your loss. I know the loneliness of losing a baby to ectopic -- but know that you are never truly alone in this loss. Thank you for being brave in sharing your story.

I feel like every pregnancy loss story is so important and deserves to be told. If you would like to share your story, please email me at renyeart@gmail.com. We can post your story anonymously if you would prefer. 

My goal in sharing stories on this blog is:

1) To honor our beloved babies and keep their memory alive.
2) To validate and honor the grief of the moms who have lost their little one.
3) To be a resource to women who are hoping to find someone, somewhere out there, who can relate to their feelings of loss. I hope this blog will be that resource.

Breaking 11 years of silence: A story of miscarriage at 13 weeks

I am honored today to share the story of a friend who suffered a miscarriage at 13 weeks. She went through her unplanned pregnancy and miscarriage alone. Completely alone. After 11 years, she is breaking the silence and is now talking about her precious baby and the loss that rocked her world.

We all have such different experiences in our loss. Her story shows the side that is so often overlooked. What happens when a pregnancy isn't planned, and lost? What does life look life after a loss when you suffer alone?

I want to be sure to protect this momma's heart -- so if you want to comment, please keep your comments full of love.

-- Rachel

When I moved to a new state at the beginning of my junior year of high school, I fell in love with a boy. For years, I hoped he would notice me. When he finally did . . . I knew he was the one. I was young, unmarried and thought I was invincible; the thought of getting pregnant never crossed my mind.

I actually got pregnant on the night that I lost my virginity. I was on birth control, but had strep throat and was on antibiotics, thus rendering my birth control inactive. It took me quite a while to realize I was pregnant. I just wasn't paying attention to the fact that I had missed a period or two, and because I was taking birth control, I never thought I would get pregnant.

Once I realized what was happening and took a pregnancy test, I was getting ready to go back to college for my junior year. I went to the doctor and it was confirmed, but the doctor said that I might have done some damage by continuing to take my birth control while pregnant. I immediately stopped and knew that, no matter what, I was going to keep the baby. I already loved that little one growing inside of me.

I went back to college and didn't tell anyone. Not my family, not my friends and not the father. I was just going to travel home for my doctor’s appointments and figure out how to tell my family after I started really showing.

Around 13 weeks, I started cramping really bad. I went to the health center at my school and they recommended an OB/GYN in Charlotte. I went and they did an ultrasound, but the baby's heartbeat was slightly slower than normal. They said there could be many contributing factors. They scheduled me for another ultrasound a few days later to check the heartbeat and everything again.

Two days later, I woke up cramping and bleeding heavily. I had never felt/seen anything like it. I didn't want to tell my suite-mate, so I got dressed and walked (very slowly) across campus. By the time I got to the health center, I was in bad shape. They called an ambulance and they took me to the ER.

When I got there, they did an ultrasound and there was no heartbeat. They sedated me, and did another ultrasound a few hours later. The doctor confirmed that there wasn't any hope, but that I needed to have a D&C procedure.

I had surgery and was released the next day. I remember being “foggy.” I’m not sure that I truly understood what was going on. I had just lost my precious baby. But because I hadn’t told anyone, I had to go on with my life as if nothing had happened.

I was pretty sick for the week or two after . . . I had a lot of bleeding and cramping and felt so empty, but I just couldn't bring myself to talk about it with anyone. It was almost surreal. I felt like I was walking through a life that wasn’t my own. I just didn’t tell anyone. In fact, I didn't tell anyone for many years.

I just started opening up about it over the last year, but still don't talk about it much. I went through it completely alone and felt like I had no one to turn to. I lied to so many people for so many years! People were concerned about me and couldn't understand why I cried all the time, so I tried to put on a brave front and go on with my life.

It has been almost 11 years and there is not a day that goes by that I don’t think about my child. There are times that I dream about her. While I have lived a good life since that day, I can’t say that the emptiness has ever gone away. Maybe it won’t ever go away. Someday, I hope to blessed with children, but for now, I know that she is looking down on me. Mommy Loves You!

A word to others:
To those who have a friend who has lost a baby, let them talk about it as much or as little as they need to. There are days that I long to talk about her and days that I don't.

Thank you so much, friend, for being so brave in sharing your story. Thank you for sharing your precious baby's story -- I know you miss her so much.



I feel like every pregnancy loss story is so important and deserves to be told. If you would like to share your story, please email me at renyeart@gmail.com. We can post your story anonymously.


My goal in sharing stories on this blog is:


1) To honor our beloved babies and keep their memory alive.
2) To validate and honor the grief of the moms who have lost their little one.
3) To be a resource to women who are hoping to find someone, somewhere out there, who can relate to their feelings of loss. I hope this blog will be that resource.

Kristin's Story -- Miscarriage at 20 weeks

Tonight, I am honored to share the story and pictures of Cameron Nicole -- a beautiful baby girl miscarried by Kristin. This momma is so brave in sharing all the heart-rending details of going through pregnancy as an 18-year-old with an abusive boyfriend . . . then having to make the decision to let her child die or die herself.

I want to be sure to protect this momma's heart -- so if you want to comment, please keep your comments full of love.

-- Rachel

I lost my daughter, Cameron Nicole, at about 20 weeks gestation due to a number of things. To this day, I am still not sure the EXACT reason I was induced to deliver. I have a general idea, but haven't received many answers.

My pregnancy came as a shock to my former boyfriend and me. When I became pregnant with Cameron Nicole, I was very young -- only 18 years old, and still a kid. So many things ran through my mind when I saw a plus sign appear on the pregnancy stick: This is not good timing. This is NOT the person I want to have kids with. How am I going to support a baby?

Although I was very nervous, I became a mom instantly, and I loved that little baby more than I have ever loved anything.

At first, my pregnancy was picture-perfect. But in the back of my mind, something just felt wrong. I have never suffered a loss, nor have I known anyone close to me who had. Every time I had a Dr. appointment, I was terrified of the baby dying. There was just something that felt wrong. Maternal instinct is an amazing thing.

About 7 weeks into my pregnancy, I was having a lot of cramping. I took myself to the hospital with a fear of having a miscarriage. The Dr. did an ultrasound and couldn't find a heartbeat. I was devastated. They told me the pregnancy may be too early. Or that I could be experiencing an ectopic pregnancy.

I just couldn't believe this was happening. I couldn't breathe. I don't think I cried one time, though . . . I just had to stay strong. My mom was in the emergency room for all 10 hours I was in there. The hospital called in Drs. to come in and look at my ultrasounds, blood tests, and so many more things that I am probably unaware of. I was admitted to the hospital for fear that my tube would rupture if it was an ectopic pregnancy. For the next 3 days they monitored me and checked my hcg levels. By the last day, there was great news: My hcg levels were doubling and I was sent home with so much hope! I had a sonogram appointment scheduled for a week later to check for a heartbeat.

That week was the slowest week of my life. I was so anxious to find out if my baby was alive! At that appointment, I heard the most incredible sound, the sound of my baby's heartbeat. I was so relieved! My mom and I cried together and were just so relieved. At this moment, I realized that things would work themselves out and everything would be okay. I had amazing support from my mom.

This is where my story gets hard for me to tell . . . I honestly believe my daughter potentially saved my life. The father of my daughter (or what I consider him . . . a sperm donor. He was NOT a dad.)was abusive, spent all of our money on alcohol, gambling, other woman, and who knows what! I found out several times that he had been with other women, but didn't have the strength to leave. I felt so embarrassed to be single and pregnant, so I put up with all of the horrible things he did to me. It wasn't until he pushed me up against a wall and locked me in a room. My pregnancy gave me the strength to leave that horrible, toxic home, and to be single and pregnant. I don't know if I ever would have had the courage to leave.

After I moved out of the home I had helped create, I was very fortunate to have an amazing family. Although it was so hard to take the help from my mom, I needed it. I needed a safe place to live.

I can't say that my pregnancy was stress free . . . it was nothing near that. I found out Cameron's "dad" became homeless and unemployed a few weeks after I moved out. I knew that meant no help financially from him. I also knew I would have done everything in my power to keep him away from her. If he put his hands on me while pregnant, what would he do to her?! I talked with so many lawyers about my situation and wrote up a parenting plan so I could sleep at night, knowing his chances of seeing her when she arrived were slim.

October 9, 2010 at around 10 p.m., I went to the emergency room for the second time experiencing severe cramping. When I was brought back and I received 3 enemas because the Dr. said I was "just constipated." I told him repeatedly, "NO, NO, IT'S SOMETHING DIFFERENT, I WOULD KNOW IF I WAS CONSTIPATED!" I was sent home with some type of laxatives, that I refused to use. (Throughout my pregnancy, I don't believe I took ANY type of medications, besides vitamins . . . I would power through any type of pain.)

On October 10, 2010 at around 10 a.m., I was sitting in my office at my desk when the most shocking thing could have happened to me, My water broke. I didn't know what to do with myself. This was my first pregnancy so I didn't know what was normal, and what wasn't. I knew that I had to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I left work bawling, but didn't tell anyone what was happening, just that I needed to leave.

I got to the E.R. and my water was still breaking. I was screaming for someone to help me, and to tell me what was happening and why. I didn't understand I was only 20 weeks along. About an hour after being in the E.R., my mom showed up and I was rushed up to labor and delivery. I was in a little dark room and felt so alone. The Dr. in labor and delivery checked my cervix and did a bunch of other tests. After about an hour after being in that little room, he diagnosed me with "premature rupture of membranes" and said that I had the option to either go home and see if my water bag would seal up, or stay in the hospital to see. Either way, I would have to be on bedrest the rest of my pregnancy. They also said there was about a 30% chance that I would make it full term. I just didn't know how they expected me to make decisions.

While signing my discharge papers, my temperature shot up to 103.2 from 98.0. I started uncontrollably shaking, sweating buckets, and my heart rate was extremely high. The Drs. were horrified and just kept saying they have never seen this before. Experts were called in. About an hour later, the expert Drs. arrived and told me I would have to deliver, and if I didn't, I had a 90% chance of getting sepsis (a blood infection) and a very high chance of ultimately dying.

I was stuck between choosing death for me, or death for my baby. As a mother, I couldn't wrap my head around choosing death for my child. I was more than willing to die for my baby. The Drs. gave me an hour to make a decision. (I think they wanted me to come to terms with what was happening, so I didn't feel forced.) My nurses and Drs. were incredible.

I was on my deathbed, hardly able to even open my eyes I was so sick, and I just couldn't bear the pain any longer. I finally gave in the towel and let them induce me. I could feel myself fading fast. They tried 3 times to induce me, and it was the most incredible pain I had ever felt. I was throwing up, shaking, sweating and screaming my lungs out. My cervix just wouldn't dilate. I was hooked up to so many machines, and had a lot of powerful drugs put in my IV.

The worst parts were when they had to do ultrasounds, I couldn't stand seeing my tiny little baby moving around in there having no idea what was about to happen. I held my pregnant belly and talked to her the whole time. I didn't want to let go. I had over 30 Drs. and nurses coming in and out of my room, doing bloodwork and they even brought in a mobile catscan because at one point they believed I was getting meningitis. I had no hope that I would make it out alive.

Somehow Cameron's dad found out and was calling the hospital begging to come see me. I banned him from showing up . . . I couldn't believe he ever thought he would belong there. He also had the nerve to text me, and my mom repeatedly, "is our baby going to die?" and "is this the end?" Those were not the words I needed to hear.

As soon as labor pains kicked in, they suggested that I get an epidural. When the woman came in to give me the epidural, I started bleeding heavily and it felt like time to push. At that moment, I knew this was it. I think mentally I went away during my delivery. How could I mentally be there delivering a baby I know would die?

I remember hearing the Dr. tell me to push and with one push she was out. Cameron was born at 5:38 a.m. on October 12, 2010. They rushed her away to test for a heartbeat. She lived for 3 short minutes . . . minutes I wasn't awake for. I thank God that my mom was there to hold her hand. I fell asleep and didn't wake up until around 9 a.m. My dad was next to me holding my hand.

I was in the hospital for the next few days feeling a million times better, but feeling the emotional side was unbearable. At first I didn't want to see my baby . . .  I just couldn't imagine seeing her lifeless body. My mom talked me into it and I gave the okay to bring her in.

She looked like a tiny baby, even at only 20 weeks. She had 10 fingers and 10 toes. She was perfect in every way, just beautiful. I did not hold her, I just looked at her for hours. That is the one part I regret. The hospital took a few pictures and got her hand and foot prints. I was sent home with empty arms. It was the most confusing feeling ever: To be pregnant, give birth to a beautiful baby girl, and to leave the hospital without a baby in my arms.

Grieving without the support of a husband/significant other was really hard. I was all alone. Being so young, I had absolutely no friends who could relate. Needless to say, I lost a lot of friendships. I wasn't able to try again for a baby that I wanted so badly.

The Drs. also said I had contracted Chorioamnionitis (also called amnionitis or intra-amniotic infection), which is a bacterial infection that occurs either before or during labor. The name refers to the outer membrane (chorion) and the fluid-filled sac (amnion) that encloses the embryo. Chorioamnionitis affects between 1 and 10% of women at term and up to 33% of patients who deliver preterm. Chorioamnionitis usually develops when bacteria that are part of the normal vaginal flora "ascend" into the uterine cavity. The amniotic fluid and placenta, as well as the baby, become infected. E. coli, group B streptococci, and anaerobic bacteria are the most common causes of chorioamnionitis. E. coli and group B streptococci are also the two most common causes of infection in newborns.



I miss my baby more and more every day. It's crazy to think she has been gone a little over a year now.

A word to other mommas: Some things I would suggest . . .Take as many pictures as possible, every inch of your baby. Hold your baby! I can't say that enough!

Thank you for reading!

Kristin

Thank you, Kristin, for sharing the story of Cameron's life and death. What a beautiful baby girl you had.



I feel like every pregnancy loss story is so important and deserves to be told. If you would like to share your story, please email me at renyeart@gmail.com. We can post your story anonymously.

My goal in sharing stories on this blog is:

1) To honor our beloved babies and keep their memory alive.
2) To validate and honor the grief of the moms who have lost their little one.
3) To be a resource to women who are hoping to find someone, somewhere out there, who can relate to their feelings of loss. I hope this blog will be that resource.