It was a week ago I had a positive pregnancy test. I was overjoyed. We were on our 10th round of Clomid and edging closer to IVF treatment. Although there was the excitement of being pregnant I had an underlying worry that something wasn’t quite right. I didn’t feel the same as I did when I was pregnant with my son but to reassure myself I reminded myself that every pregnancy is different. Despite this, I just could not shift the feeling something felt off. I didn’t feel pregnant and would retest again later in the week for peace of mind. I was also constantly checking my boobs to see if they were still sore to comfort myself that I was pregnant. Every time I looked at baby items online to buy a strange pull would come over me to not buy anything yet. Something was not right and deep down I had a feeling this wasn’t going to end well.
Friday 4th I am at home and having just had a toast of peanut butter I suddenly experience sharp abdominal pain. At first I think I just need to do a poo or it’s trapped wind but it slowly becomes clear this isn’t normal. I start to feel sick and faint. I call my husband and he promptly tells me to call 111. I speak with 111 and they said that a clinician will call back within 30 minutes but if they cannot get through to me they will be sending an ambulance within 2 hours. In the time I was waiting for the call, I deteriorated further and started to vomit and began to break into a cold sweat. I called 111 back again and going through the same questions, their computer gave the same outcome as before.
As I sat on the toilet vomiting on the bathroom floor, the call came in and I faintly answered in desperation for help to come. She said to get to A&E in the next hour as waiting for an ambulance may take up to 2 hours. Thankfully my husband was on his way home and was going to be back in time to get me in within an hour. As he arrived, I was very weak and struggling to stand. He helped me into the car and the cold air from the car’s air conditioning was somewhat of a relief. We arrived at the carpark of the hospital but clearly things were worsening. I struggled to get out of the car and could barely walk. I collapsed in the car park as my legs gave way. Husband called for help from a passer by and asked him to get a wheelchair. Thankfully a nurse was also walking by and came to help, taking my pulse and realising it was very weak. The wheelchair came and they pushed me towards A&E as I vomited along the way.
We had a small wait in the A&E reception as my husband checked me in and when we were finally called in, the assessing nurse took one look at me and said I needed to be in Stat. They wheeled me straight to a bay and they put a cannula into me to get fluids in. I was extremely dehydrated and in tachycardia. My blood pressure was also very low. After a while in Stat they wheeled me to two other bays elsewhere in the hospital. One of them was called Major Bay 4. One of the bays was very cold and I was shaking violently from being cold. To help with my low blood pressure they had to tip the bed head downwards, which made the abdominal pain even worse. What I did not realise at the time was that my Fallopian tube had ruptured and I was internally bleeding into my abdominal cavity. Doctors and nurses came in and out and asked the same questions to determine what was wrong. They painfully put the catheter in and took the Covid test swab which itself was also an unpleasant experience as it went right into the back of my throat and nose. We would soon be going to theatre. Despite the Covid situation, thankfully my husband was able to stay with me up until the theatre doors. I felt physically awful and knew there was a chance I could die in theatre. I said my goodbyes to my husband with this in mind ensuring he knew how much I loved him and our son.
As I arrived in the operating theatre I desperately asked for water but they were reluctant to give me any. Just as well they didn’t because a few minutes later I vomited up all the fluid I had taken in previously. They wanted to give me a blood transfusion but they wanted a larger cannula in. I had several people surround me rubbing and tapping my hands, arms, feet and neck trying to get a vein but they kept collapsing or too small. I moaned in pain as they stabbed me in various places particularly my neck. They gave me the blood transfusion before they put me under of 2 units. At the same time the blood test results suggested I was further along in my pregnancy and they wanted to do an ultrasound. It was when she said nothing in the uterus that it hit home that this pregnancy was not going to be saved and it was ectopic as they had suggested in Emergency department. I had up until this point still hoped that it was food poisoning or something unrelated to pregnancy. That hope was extinguished when I heard her words. We had lost the baby.
I was so desperate to be put under as I couldn’t take it anymore. I knew I may not wake up again but I think my body and mind was exhausted and couldn’t hold on much longer.
I later found out from my husband that the surgeon called him to say I had lost 3 litres of blood, 60% of my blood, but I must be very strong because I remained stable throughout the surgery despite this loss. The baby had attached itself to the end of the Fallopian tube and a bit of my uterus and was in an awkward position to be removed. Thankfully the procedure was done laparoscopically and there was no need to be opened up.
When I woke I was in recovery. I was the only one in there for a long time. Three paediatric patients came in whilst I was in there but went soon after arriving. I on the other hand had to wait for more fluids and an improvement in my bloods. I had high potassium levels and my blood pressure was still very low. Despite not being alone due to having a nurse with me at all times to take obs, I felt very lonely. The time dragged as I numbly stared into space unable to think of anything specific for very long. Gynae doctors arrived to check on me and informed me that I lost a lot of blood and it was a life saving surgery. I was told earlier by the surgeon that I must be strong because I remained stable throughout surgery despite the blood loss. I was also told that I would have to wait 3 months before trying for a baby again and that delivery would have to be done c-section no matter what. She said it would be 2 weeks to recover from this, if not longer.
Eventually I was wheeled onto the maternity block ward and again I was the only one in the 4 bed ward. It was then it hit me how alone I was, how I could have died and I had lost a baby. I sobbed silently into my sheets trying to not be heard by the nurses. Compassionately the nurse let my husband visit me for 15 mins or so, due to the Covid situation, and that was a welcome relief. I needed to see him. It was important for my recovery.
Whilst on the ward my blood pressure was still unacceptably low and my haemoglobin count was 64 which is very low. I had to have another blood transfusion of 2 more units. It was after this blood transfusion did I start getting colour back into my face and began to feel a bit better.
Another lady later joined me in the ward and we made some small talk between us. Her reasons for being on the ward were not pregnancy related so I felt sadder there was no one to share with my loss.
It was our 6th wedding anniversary on the Sunday and husband came along at 7:30pm and we sat alone in an unlit part of the ward reception by the window on the 5th floor exchanging gifts. Not quite how I planned our anniversary to be but there was the overriding relief that we were both together despite where we were.
Psychologist and Patient 