Told by: Mercedes

I looked at the two red lines, my heart racing. I was now pregnant with my second child and my children would be only 11 months apart. Fear and excitement were fresh in my mind. Little did I know what lay ahead…

I began spotting lightly, which I didn’t think much of. After all, in some pregnancies, spotting is completely normal. On Sunday, I began to have excruciating cramping on my left side, so I laid down for most of the day. That night, I went to the bathroom and cried out from really sharp rectal pain as I sat on the toilet. I knew something wasn’t right, but I wasn’t having a miscarriage.

The next morning, I began to bleed bright red blood, so my mother-in-law drove me to Urgent Care. My husband met me there, and we waited for 3 HOURS, completely powerless to do anything. We finally were admitted to see the doctor, who then told me they didn’t have the equipment to do an ultrasound! He immediately referred me to the ER, where I waited for 20 minutes, and then was admitted for an ultrasound and pelvic exam. I couldn’t read the expression on the technician’s face, it was blank.

Two blood draws later, the doctor came in and broke the news. “You have an ectopic pregnancy”.

I buried my face in my hands and cried. There are no words to describe how powerless and hopeless I felt in that moment, knowing I couldn’t save the life growing inside me. I also knew that if I didn’t have the surgery done to remove the pregnancy, I could very likely die, as my Fallopian tube was blocked and close to rupturing.

At around 9:00 pm, they wheeled me into the surgery room, and all I remember was having a mask put on my face, and I was out. I woke up at 2:00 am in the recovery room, my faithful husband by my side. He helped me get out of bed, and we walked around the nurse’s station a few times. My whole body ached, especially my shoulders and my abdomen where the incisions had been made. But all of that was nothing compared to the ache in my heart.

I was released from the hospital at 2:30 am, and cried myself to sleep when I got home. The doctor had instructed me not to lift my 11month old for two weeks so I could heal properly. It was hard not being able to snuggle my son. It was hard just waking up, knowing that I was no longer pregnant. The worst was thinking of what he or she might’ve been like, the things they would’ve accomplished, thinking of snuggling them close and reading him/her a bedtime story….there are no words to describe the loss of a child, no matter what age they are.

I have recovered well physically, mentally, and emotionally from it, but my heart still hurts when I think about it. However, I just found out I am now about 5 weeks pregnant with my third, and I feel it has been a part of my healing as well. My heart hurts for other women that have shared in this struggle. Know that you are not alone, and you will heal! It won’t come instantly, it will take time, but it will happen! Keep your chin up and know that you will rise above your trials and your heartache.

Much love and hope,

Mercedes