My Second Loss

My Second Loss

I wanted to write this all down before I start to forget the details.

Logan and I wanted to get another baby here, but I wasn’t ready to commit to “trying” again.  You know, the tracking, the testing for ovulation, the counting days, the waiting to take the pregnancy test only to see a negative and to feel like a failure.  We did that for SO LONG to get Landon here, and it was terrible.  Our compromise was we would stop using birth control after we got home from our Disneyland trip, and that was it.  We didn’t pay much attention to it after that.

My cycles are always wonky, not consistent, different lengths, just weird.  So when some cycles were longer than others, I didn’t pay much attention to it, until this past month.  I realized it had been a long time since my last period.  I took a test, it came back negative, but I wasn’t bothered by it, and I waited for my period to start.  After another week, I took another test on a Sunday morning before church.  It came back POSITIVE.  Like dark, solid positive line that popped up super-fast.  Logan and I were shocked!  We were hugging each other and we were so excited at the news.  We hadn’t needed to get on the “trying” roller coaster; we were going to be blessed with the sweetest surprise possible.  We decided to keep it as our little secret until we knew more about what was going on.  The whole day we were on a cloud.  Logan kept smiling at me and squeezing my hand.  It’s amazing how special and sweet that news is for a couple.

The next morning I called my ob office.  I had had low progesterone with Landon and I wanted to see if that was going to be a concern with this pregnancy as well.  They called in a prescription for me and had me come in for blood work.  Tuesday afternoon I got a phone call from the office.  My progesterone was indeed low, as we had expected.  But also, my hCG was really low as well.  The nurse told me sometimes things like that just happen, and maybe I wasn’t as far along as I had thought I was.  She said to think positively, but also that realistically, things might not be viable.  I was to go in the next day to get more blood work done.

We decided we wanted prayers on our side.  I called my mom and let her know.  We told Logan’s parents.  We told our siblings, my birth family, grandparents, and a few other close friends.  We wanted prayers, and lots of them, going for our baby.  I was a wreck.  My first miscarriage was the hardest trial I have been through, and I was terrified I would go through it again.  Logan gave me several blessings that week to comfort me and give me strength, and we prayed our hearts out over this baby.

Wednesday I had blood work done again.  That evening the nurse called me back.  My levels had gone up…not as much as they wanted, but they were up.  I was to come in the next week for an ultrasound to check on the baby and to see how everything was going at that point.  Thursday I was nauseous!!  That’s a sign that your hCG is continuing to rise, and I had never been so happy to feel sick before!  My symptoms continued to increase as the weekend wore on.  Saturday night we were saying family prayers and thanking Heavenly Father for sending us this little baby.  We were all so happy and feeling hopeful.

And then Sunday.

I opened up my eyes and I just knew.  Before I even moved.  Before the pain hit.  I just knew.  I was going to lose my baby that day, and it was going to be bad.  I pushed the thought away, and rolled over to get out of bed to go to the bathroom, and that’s when the tugging pain started in my left hip.  “Ectopic Pregnancy” went through my head, and I tried to shut that out.  It couldn’t be.  Not to me.  Please, not another loss.

I walked to the bathroom to pee, and the pain intensified.  Logan was in the shower and I told him that I was hurting.  And then I began to sweat.  I became nauseous and I leaned over the toilet bowl, sure I was about to puke.  Logan said he thought maybe I was just pregnant nauseous, and after he was done with his shower, he’d help me get breakfast. Hopefully the food would help settle my stomach.  And then I passed out on the bathroom floor.  I came to and my babies were looking at me so scared.  Logan got out of the shower and helped me get to the bed, shuffling our kids away to get breakfast.  Everything felt worse with each passing minute, and I had a very strong feeling we needed to go to the Emergency Room. 

“Ugh, Camille, no.  That’s going to cost so much money.  Just rest, you’ll be okay,” was all I kept telling myself.  And another wave of pain hit.  And another.  And another.  It was getting worse.  I couldn’t stand up to get Logan in the kitchen.  I grabbed my phone and called my mother in law, who lives upstairs.

“Deana, I think I’m having an ectopic pregnancy.”  Another wave of pain. “Please come get the kids, Logan is taking me to the hospital.” Another wave.

Deana came and grabbed them and got their church clothes and took them upstairs.  I pulled on some shoes and my coat, and Logan helped me to the car. 

By the time we got there I could barely walk.  They rushed a wheelchair to me and helped check me in.  Logan did all the talking as I was crumpled up in pain.  They got us back in a bed and talked to us about I’m not sure what.  An ultrasound tech came to get me to go do the ultrasound and helped me sit up, which I could barely do.  He said “Yeah, we’re not moving her until we get her some pain meds.”  At this point I felt like I was being stabbed over and over again, the pain then radiating from that spot to fill my entire body.  I started to cry to Logan “I want to die.  I want to die.  Take this pain away.”  And then I started to black out.  I would come back around and then everything would go dark again, back around, and dark, back around, and dark.  I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t breathe.  (I think this is when my tube was bursting.)

Somebody came in and got an IV started on my arm as I was coming in and out, and they gave me a dose of Morphine and Phenergan.  My arm started to burn and feel heavy, and then the pain calmed down.  I got very sleepy and could barely communicate.  I guess after that they wheeled me back for an ultrasound, I remember the room being dark, I remember clicks and beeps of the machine, I remember hurting whenever the tech would push on my left side.  I also remember dreaming I was playing Toy Story Midway Mania in Disneyland, so there you go…on a drug trip my brain takes me to Disney.  And then I was suddenly back in my other room, shivering and having them put blanket after blanket on me and I just could not warm up.

Everything felt like it was taking hours, but Logan later told me it all happened pretty fast.  A doctor came in and confirmed it was ectopic.  An on call ob came in and talked to me.  Dr. Cloward?  She was really pretty and really nice.  She told me I was going in for surgery, and they would need to remove my tube.  They saw blood pooling on my ultrasound and they were worried about me hemorrhaging.  An anesthesiologist came in and talked about the sedatives.  Logan signed a bunch of forms for me, and I texted some family to let them know I was going in for surgery.  I still could barely stay awake from the morphine.

They wheeled me back, I kissed Logan goodbye, and they shot something in my IV and told me I wouldn’t remember much after that.  I looked up and saw all these “PACU” signs and wondered what it meant.  And then I was waking up.

They explained I did indeed lose my tube.  They were glad I was at the hospital as early as I was, because of it I didn’t lose as much blood as they were anticipating and I avoided a blood transfusion.  I was so drowsy and out of it, but I looked over at a doorway, and there was my sweet Sadie holding someone’s hand and bouncing up and down watching me.  I signed “I love you” to her and she signed it back, focusing so hard to get her fingers right.  She was so worried about me and later told me she hated the baby and didn’t want any more in our family because she didn’t want me to get owies again.  It broke my heart to hear her say that, all I wanted was for that baby to be back with me, but I was grateful I was alive to be with my other two babies.  Apparently you can bleed out pretty fast with a ruptured tube, I didn’t realize it was so life threatening.

Eventually we got back to a recovery room.  Sadie went home with Deana.  My parents were there.  Logan was there.  I just wanted to sleep.  They had me order food and take more medicine.  We watched Food Network on tv.  My parents ended up going home while Logan went to go get my prescriptions filled.  I got checked out at about 7:00 that night and we headed home.

I started bawling in the car.  I was completely hysterical and wracked with guilt.  Because of my body, because of me, we lost another baby.  I lost my tube.  It would be harder than it was even before to get pregnant again.  And here I am, married to the best father I have ever seen, and I was holding him back from having a gaggle of kids, and he probably wishes he had married someone else who could have all of his babies easier and quicker than I could.  I guess I had started rambling these things out loud, because Logan pulled the car over and told me to knock it off.  I’ll never forget that. He said, “Camille, never, ever, ever say that again.  Never!  Do you hear me?  I want you.  Only you.  I don’t care if we have 2 kids or 20, as long as you are the one by my side, that’s all I want.  Don’t you forget it or tell yourself otherwise.”  And I was a wreck.  He is better than I deserve.  I am still so devastated that I can’t give him a dozen kids with ease, because he is such an amazing father.  But I am so grateful that he is mine, and that he wants to be mine, and that he wants me—as broken and imperfect as I am.

My sweet in laws had already gotten my kids fed and in their jammies.  Deana had made us two plates of food and left them downstairs for us.  Logan heated up the food and we ate, and then he put me to bed and then the kids to bed.

My sister in laws rallied around us for the next few days to care for my babies while Logan was at work.  I can’t lift anything heavier than a gallon of milk, so I can’t hold Landon.  Also it hurts to walk around, and my medicine makes me drowsy, so I wouldn’t be able to care for my kids well.  They have had play dates with cousins every day this week, and they come home exhausted, happy, and well fed.

So many people have brought us dinner this week.  My family has been fed and I haven’t had to worry about it at all.  A friend sent me a Barnes and Noble gift card and told me to buy a book that helped her heal from her miscarriage, which should be shipped to my house today.  Another group of friends sent me a bouquet of Edible Arrangements.  Another dropped off a sack of DVDs to watch while I am down and out.  Another sent me a sweet note with a gift card to get a treat.  Literally hundreds of my friends have checked on my through social media or texting.  I can feel so many prayers being poured over us to help sooth my soul.  So many miracles and so many angels have come together to help my family through this nightmare.

I am heartbroken.  Completely devastated.  I wish nothing more than being able to be pregnant again instead of having had this happen.  I’m scared for the future, but I’m trying to not focus on it yet.  There is nothing I can do about it yet; I just need to get better physically.  I am so beyond grateful that I have had Logan with me through all of this.  I hate that this happened, but he has been so wonderful, it has really helped remind me of what a wonderful man I am married to.

For all of those that have helped us—thank you.  It has not gone unnoticed, and I love you all.  You are all angels in my eyes, and I have been thanking Heavenly Father for all of you over and over.