ectopic

Chapter Two: Time to visit the fertility doc

/ BethonBeauty / 2 Comments

The one good thing about having an ectopic pregnancy is your partner will probably feel really bad for you. Does that sound horrible? I don’t mean it to. But the fact is…Nick knew I’d been through a lot (he had too). We were told we couldn’t try to conceive for three months post methotrexate injections so…in an effort to turn lemons to lemonade, I came up with the genius idea of a vacation. Not just any vacation but one to Hawaii.

Now, if we hadn’t gone through the ectopic this vacation wouldn’t have happened. We had just bought a house after all. But Nick knew I needed something to look forward to so there I went…booked us a nice three-year anniversary trip to Maui and Kauai.

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There I am, near a waterfall in Maui. I selected this pic because 1) pretty sure Nick was behind the camera cursing me under his breathe for making him spend $$ on a fancy vaca. But I was loving it! 2) this tank and what is says #everybodyfights from one of my favorite gyms in Boston

Once back, after a month or so, we were back to trying for a baby the ole fashion way. During these next six-ish months I tried everything…acupuncture, special diets, special lube (hello “pre-seed”), tracking my temperature, ovulation strips, ovulation apps etc. Nada. None of it worked for us. Shove it all up ya butt. I don’t know why but I had to type that.

Then, finally, we concluded it was time to see a fertility doc. Our first fertility doc was out of Harvard Vanguard in Boston. In hindsight, he was great. We started the testing that kicks off the process. The “only” thing they found was that one of my tubes was abnormal and likely causing the infertility. They didn’t know “for sure” but assumed that was it. I was recommended for a surgery to have the tube removed. I was not ready for that, so we decided to try Clomid.

Clomid. That sh*t. I think we did 2-3 rounds. It’s much less “invasive” than IVF but damn, this medicine was my least favorite. Hot flashes, mood swings. I did not feel great on it. We did ultrasound tracking with it. Nothing. It did not work for us. We forged ahead to IVF.

I’m glad we did our first round of IVF moving into the winter. Between the meds and the constant appointments, I just wanted/needed to be in comfy clothes. Long sweaters, leggings, hide me. I’m not sure how I would have fared if we did this in the summer.

I’m not going to go through the entire process here. But I will say, yes, you have to give yourself (or have your partner give you) injections. Daily. The first night of meds I FREAKED. The idea of putting a needle in myself filled with hormones/lawd knows what, was plain unsettling. But once I just did it (it took awhile and a lot of whining)…it was ok. Nick bought fun band aids which added some comic relief. Pretty sure they were Paw patrol.

All in all, the process is about a month. But it occupies more time between the testing beforehand and then the waiting once you do the embryo transfer. Post transfer you have to wait 10 days to find out if you’re pregnant. On the 10th day I woke up prepared to go to my appointment for bloodwork (feeling hopeful because I hadn’t gotten my period) and boom…went to the bathroom and got my period that morning.

I was devastated. I didn’t even want to tell Nick. After all that “work” – we got nothing. I actually drove myself to work that morning but ended up having to pull over in a Walgreens parking lot because I was so upset. I told myself to go to work because all I could think at the time was “we’ll have to do this again?! I’ll need more time off. What am I going to do?” Now, if I could share some advice to anyone going through this – please, cut yourself some slack. I ended up texting a friend at work, told her what happened, and asked if she’d cover a couple meetings. Thank goodness for her. Then, I drove home and got in bed.

The hardest part really was the “after.” Nick was shocked…and he told me he would have “bet a million dollars we were pregnant.” This enraged me, to be honest. There is around a 40% chance (for women UNDER 35, I’m 34) with any given cycle that it’ll be successful. It’s not a silver bullet. Hey, I thought it was too before I actually went through it. Dealing with my emotions was one thing but having to see your partner hurt too is really hard. Then, couple that with the crash (that I felt, at least) when suddenly you’re taken off all the meds. I didn’t realize it at the time but my emotions were heightened by the fact that I had been taking all these drugs/hormones and suddenly off. Cold turkey. Again, poor Nick, I’m pretty sure he was scared of me during this time.

My sister and close friends carried me through. When people ask me what helped / how they can help a friend going through this process. I tell them, just be there, just reach out, check in. 90% of the advice I was offered wasn’t helpful. Don’t get me wrong, I understand. I’m the first one to offer advice in hopes that I can help someone. But really, telling me I needed to just relax, or try this diet, or go to this doctor, or just give it more time, did not make me feel better. What did was just saying hi, checking in, and offering an ear to listen. Or how about ‘wanna get a mani?’ Yes. As simple as that. But then again, what I also learned about myself during this process is that I have a tendency to sometimes get quiet when tough things happen to people. Not because I don’t care – but the opposite. I want so badly to help, to somehow relieve some pain, but I don’t know what to say, or I fear saying the wrong thing and it makes me shut down. So, if there is one thing I learned and would tell others, just reach out. No one is perfect. A simple card, a text is enough. Just show up.

This about concludes chapter 2. My next chapter is about my surgery. The surgery that thankfully got us to this current pregnancy. But I’ll tell you now, I wasn’t sure it would work at the time.

Chapter One: The beginning of our journey

/ BethonBeauty / 5 Comments

Our “journey to a family” (someone suggested I use this phrase vs. “infertility journey”) started back in Spring/Summer 2015. We had found a house in the ‘burbs. We were doing what a lot of couples do “trying but not really trying” to have a baby. It had probably been almost 6 months of that, maybe more.

By June(ish) 2015 we were pregnant! I remember the day I held the positive test in my hand and showed Nick in the kitchen. I’ll never forget how excited we were. I literally jumped in into his arms and we danced around the kitchen in our new house. I still savor this moment because we were completely, purely happy.

But…our bliss only lasted a few days.

Within a short time it was clear something wasn’t right. I started bleeding one morning and ended up at the doctor’s office. I remember being told we were likely miscarrying and there wasn’t much to do but let “nature take its course.” We were upset but in the back of my mind, I also thought…well ok, I guess this is a good sign, we got pregnant and we weren’t really “trying.”    

Little did I know…something funky was going on…

I was still getting a positive pregnancy test days later. The doctor told me to come into the office immediately. After some blood work, it was found my hormone levels had actually risen very slightly after all the bleeding and I was sent to get an ultrasound where they discovered we had an ectopic pregnancy. I remember calling our nurse from Harvard Vanguard from the random ultrasound office in Brookline, I was crying a lot. She did her best to calm me down. I didn’t really know what an ectopic meant, I just knew I had been holding out hope that we were actually pregnant and things were ok – but this scan proved not so much.

An ectopic pregnancy is when a pregnancy happens in the fallopian tube. An ectopic is dangerous because the tube can burst causing internal bleeding. It’s something you need to take care of immediately.

Over the course of the next two weeks – my doctor recommended rather than surgery to remove the ectopic, that I take an injection of the drug called methotrexate. A chemo drug that kills fast growing cells and one that’s commonly used to “dissolve” ectopic pregnancies. I got a shot of it right in my butt cheek. At the time, Nick and I were just going through the motions, doing what we needed to do. They tested my blood every other day to confirm my hormone levels were dropping…no such luck. I had to go back (I believe it was on a Saturday or Sunday) for another dose. I remember sitting in the maternity ward of Beth Israel waiting for my second methotrexate shot. I kept thinking, “why in the f&ck do they have me in the MATERNITY ward?” We obviously hoped the second dose would work – otherwise, I’d have to go in for surgery.

Fast forward, I’m watching the Real Housewives of OC episode when Vicky’s mom died. The episode was riveting. I remember cramps starting and getting progressively worse. By the end of the episode, I wasn’t sure if I was having sympathy pains or what. But I ended up calling the doctor on call (it was a Sunday night, I think?) and they advised me to get to the ER. Poor Nick, drove through the windy back roads of the S. Shore while I told (maybe I yelled?) him to “slow down the bumps hurt!” and “hurry up, just get there!” I was in a lot of pain. They thought maybe the ectopic had burst and I was bleeding internally. I kept picturing blood filling my abdomen. By the time we got to South Shore hospital I could hardly walk. Hunched over, I walked into the ER and sat in a wheelchair. I also remember being surprised when the front desk insisted on my insurance information. I was like “what?! I’m like dying here!” I clearly wasn’t dying…but I was definitely emotionally distressed and in some serious pain.

I ended up in the ER overnight on morphine. After a few scans, they told me nothing had burst but the pain was likely the ectopic finally dissolving. I was like “what?!” I was sure I was bleeding out…but no, (thankfully) this was just the type of pain the whole process can cause. Nick stayed next to me all night sitting upright in a hard chair. I, at least laid in bed with warm blankets and morphine.

The next day I had a couple ultrasounds to confirm the ectopic was in fact dissolving. Thankfully, it was. I also got extremely sick from the morphine. Bringing the whole “sickness and health” thing to a new level…Nick held barf bags while I threw up. Literally, I was laying on a gurney out in the open in the ultrasound area just barfing. Typing this now it actually brings tears to my eyes because I remember thinking about how awful I felt but Nick probably felt just as helpless and had stayed with me the whole time then had to head right to work.

During this whole thing I missed a couple of days of work. Looking back now, I pushed myself to “just get through it” and not make a “big deal of things.” Which did me no favors. After all, it was a big deal. I paid for it emotionally down the line. I don’t think I gave myself ample time to process it all.

One of the hardest things was when the doctor’s told us we couldn’t try for three months after the methotrexate injections because we had to wait for it to fully pass through my system (it’s quite toxic). At the time that was devastating news – we couldn’t just try again next month and put this behind us?! We had to wait THREE whole months!? Little did I know it would be another 2 ½ years and multiple fertility treatments before we’d ever see another “plus sign.” Definitely for the better that I didn’t know that then.

This is part 1 of my journey. The good news is…there’s a light at the end of the tunnel but I’m here to share my true, full journey in hopes that it helps someone else. Or at least brings more awareness to the things we women, we couples, go through on our “journey to a family.”