Next week will be one year since our ectopic loss. A year later, I’m still brought to tears remembering the experience. However, I think it’s important to share because when I was struggling; reading other women’s stories of loss and how they endured really helped me. I also want to share it for the women I know who are currently trying to conceive, experiencing infertility or have experienced a loss or continued losses. I used to think physical strength was impressive, but I’ve learned it pales in comparison to the grit, perseverance and emotional strength needed when going through infertility. Lastly, I want to share it because if I’m privileged enough to share common pregnancy complaints, I know I also need to be brave enough to share the struggle to get to this point.

I’m not one to spend a lot of time feeling sorry for myself. I typically have my moment and put together an action plan and move forward. So when conceiving naturally wasn’t working, we dove into the fertility clinic world. Anyone who has experienced this world of daily before work blood draws and ultrasounds, tests, procedures, drugs with side effects and exercise restrictions can tell you it’ll truly test your metal. Suddenly I was having regular conversations with God which I haven’t done since I was a little girl and battling some serious moments of self-doubt. I’m talking about deep ugly, wailing, crying; the kind that brings you to your knees.

There’s a defeatist feeling I got from the physical set up of the Chicago fertility clinic in relation to the OBGYN clinic. It’s on the ground floor set back away from the Chicago River and the OGBYN clinic is on the second floor. I started in the OBGYN clinic upstairs and was then demoted to the fertility clinic downstairs. When that happened,  all I could think about was being able to graduate from fertility clinic and be allowed back upstairs. Goal set. Game on.

Our first fertility procedure worked! I didn’t even know what the hell a beta was or what the numbers meant when I went in for 3 beta blood draws every 2 days. “We want to see the number double,” the nurse said. The number doubled during the second test and then only rose slightly by the third. After a few extra blood draws, they were fairly certain it was an ectopic pregnancy, (meaning a pregnancy growing somewhere outside of the uterus). Because it was still early, they prescribed me Methotrexate (a drug typically used to aggressively treat cancer) in pill form to take to essentially kill the pregnancy before it ruptures the organ it’s not supposed grow in. After receiving this news I felt defeated. I walked into CVS with my prescription for Methotrexate in a daze. The pharmacist called me over in private to discuss the medication with me. She said, “I’ve never had to fill a prescription for this much methotrexate. You need to take these instructions very seriously.” I almost leaped across the counter and beat that pharmacist to a pulp. Was she really going to make me say what this was for out loud?!? She then said, take the first 20 pills together and an hour later consume the remaining 20 pills. It felt like a suicide mission. I got back to our building and got in an elevator with a beautiful couple cooing to their newborn in his stroller. I bit my lower lip so hard on that elevator ride it started bleeding.

After downing the pills, I mentally prepared for intense cramping and bleeding over the next few days as forewarned by my nurse. Thankfully, I had two close friends coming to visit for the weekend, so I mentally prepared to bleed and walked my bloated body around with my girlfriends all over the city enjoying the warm weather. Except I never bled and my bloat continued to grow. Come Monday, I had another ultrasound to check my fallopian tube. The techs face turned white and she positioned the screen so I couldn’t see it. I demanded to know what she was seeing. I just knew, there was a life inside of me. She showed me the little gummy bear with a heartbeat flashing. What is that flashing? I asked in a raised wild voice. She looked down and said, “It’s a heartbeat. I’m so sorry the baby is continuing to grow in your right fallopian tube.” What?!? I took 40 cancer pills and it developed a heartbeat OVER THE WEEKEND?!?? The tech asked me to wait in the office for the nurse who was coming to speak to me but I was worried about being late for work so I walked out and went home to log onto my computer and start my workday. When I walked in the door I got a call from the nurse asking me to sit down, not walk around (for fear or rupturing my fallopian tube) and head to the Northwestern ER and check myself in. I was going to need emergency ectopic surgery. It slowly dawned on me that I really had become attached to the idea of this life growing inside of me and now I was being told she couldn’t stay.  At that moment, I became completely unraveled. I called Larry in hysterics barely able to form words. He was on the east coast for work and upon hearing I was being sent to the ER for emergency ectopic surgery, was on the next flight back to Chicago.

I don’t remember the Uber ride to the ER. I do remember, getting a skeptical look from the woman at check in desk. Like, WHY are you here? I had to say ectopic surgery. Jesus, why were they making me say it? I squeaked it out as best I could and sat down in the waiting area. I spent hours in the ER getting palpated for pain and monitored from 9 am -2 pm. Then I was told a spot opened up for me at Prentice Women’s Hospital where I would have my surgery on the 4^th floor. I got wheeled via gurney from ER through a series of hallways and elevators until I waited to get checked in at the surgical ward. As Dr. V arrived to discuss my surgery, Larry arrived at the same time with my glasses, PJS and flip flops in hand. Through bleary, red, tear streaked eyes I tried my best to listen to Dr. V. She was incredibly empathetic, smart, kind and positive. When all was said and done, she said, “I can’t wait to see you on the 8^th floor (Labor and Delivery) when we will deliver your baby together. You can do this.” Then she held my hand. I remember feeling so grateful for her compassion and understanding. I cried some more and said I was ready. Let’s get this over with, doc.

Larry took care of me around the clock for a week. He made sure I never missed taking my pain medication and was eating well and resting. A few weeks later, I was up and moving but still in pain if I walked around for too long. I got him a little ice cream cake from the corner Baskin Robins and felt bad I couldn’t do more for his birthday that year. Recovering, showed me how much I needed my partner in life and how grateful I am for his love and care.

We were told we had to take 3 months off from trying after that because the methotrexate could still be in my system potentially causing birth defects if we were to get pregnant again too soon. I hated this idea at first. When I get my sights set on a goal I’m like a dog with a bone. But, it turned out to be the best rule ever impressed upon me. It was a forced timeout that saved me from not completely losing who I was. We took some weekend getaways, I drank lots of wine and we just returned to being us without burden of the third person (infertility) poking its head in our relationship.

The loss shook me to my core and changed me. I now completely understood that becoming a biological parent is a gift not a right. I also understood that no matter how careful you are in trying to do things in the right order, there is no control you have when it comes to fertility. You get on this ride and you simply have to see it through. Nobody owes me anything and I am not more deserving than the next woman who cries herself to sleep wondering if it’ll ever be her turn. There is no loss greater than another. A loss is a loss and a little piece of your heart goes with that baby every time. I am so grateful to be having a baby this spring, but a piece of my heart went with the baby who couldn’t stay last spring. I no longer dream about her but I miss her to this day. I’m so excited to graduate to the 8^th floor (Labor and Delivery) this spring and have a shot at delivering this baby. I hope I see you there, Dr. V!