Alice’s Ectopic Story
Background on the Author: Alice is 34 years old. She is Italian, born and raised in small town close to Venice, and moved in Reading (Berkshire) 7 years ago. Alice has been with her boyfriend and trying to conceive for 2 years. Alice hopes her story can help raise awareness around ectopic pregnancies, something that she feels isn’t taken nearly seriously enough. To help raise awareness, she has an instagram account @hope_after_ectopic, where she talks about ectopic pregnancies (and you can follow her goals to walk 1000km a year to raise funds!). Her story is below:
In Alice’s Words…
I think every good woman deserve to be a mother one day, and no one deserves what I went through. I'm so proud that I can share my story with you all without crying and without being judged (such as assuming I want attention, the gossip is real, lol!).
Everything began in 2020, precisely on the 23rd of April, 2020. I was late about 10 days, but due stress and anxiety, I didn’t bother to take any pregnancy test and I was far from thinking I was pregnant (so naive!). I was just waiting for my period to arrive because I had normal period symptoms: cravings for hot brownies and cream, sore breasts, cramps, etc. The only two things making me think otherwise was bad nausea, which I denied straight away by saying "I've eaten to much gluten" (as I'm intolerant) and have a strong sense of smell. Through all of this, my boyfriend made lots of jokes about me expecting. “NOT A CHANCE!” was my answer…
And then came the 23rd of April. It was a warm evening so I decided to remove my hair extensions with a bit of help from my boyfriend when at some point I had this massive pain on my right side. I couldn't breath and I couldn't stay still. As a Italian, I am a bit dramatic sometimes, so my boyfriend thought to give me paracetamol but the pain was unbearable. Two hours later, the pain was still going on and I was really pale, so I called 111 (medical emergency number). After thousands of questions, I finally got an appointment at 8:30PM, a blood sample was taken as well as a urine sample. The doctor called me into the room and asked me why I was so sure I wasn’t pregnant. I explained that simply because my gynecologist in Italy told me it might be a little hard, but not impossible to expecting a baby, as I have suffered from thrush/candida since I was a child (keep in mind, I was also so stubborn about being right!).
Oh well, he replied, “Congratulations, you are pregnant!". I was in a state of shock (I asked him to repeat the test). Due to the pain, he gave an early scan appointment for the next morning. When I went home, I started to cry like a baby, panicking, asking myself about the pain, the money situation, my job, how we would tell to our families - but at the same time, I started to fantasize about the nursery room, names, if it was a boy or a girl, baby shower, etc etc. That happiness lasted just one day.
The next day after an internal scan (I was 6 weeks and 5 days) I was diagnosed with an ectopic pregnancy in my right tube with no heart beat. I was devasted, under shock, and in tears. With the doctor, 8 hours later, we spoke about how to proceed (with surgery or methotrexate). I opted for the second (my HCG level was over 7000). After 2 super burning shots, I went home, cried, blamed myself, my body, and even God.
Every four days I had to go back for my blood tests to check if my HCG level was rising, confirm if the methotrexate worked or not. Starting from 7000, my level rose to 10,000. I would need to return to check again my HCG level, but during that week I remained in very bad pain. Meanwhile, the nurse was taking my blood, so I asked for a scan due the unbearable pain. Her initial response was rude, saying "You don't need a scan, it is an ectopic pregnancy, obviously it is painful, we don’t just give scans, take painkillers". I was SPEECHLESS.
I know my body, so I knew something was wrong. I stopped another nurse to help me because even walking was painful. This nurse she walked me through the scanning room. An hour later, the doctor shared that I needed to be admitted into the hospital for surgery due my tube, it was about to rupture, there was blood in my fallopian tube and the baby was alive with a strong heart beat. The methotrexate clearly didn't worked at all. After I signed thousands papers, called my boyfriend (he wasn't allow to stay with me due to Covid) and my mum, I waited for surgery. At 7:23pm , 7 weeks and 5 days into pregnancy, I had my right tube removed along with my baby. I spent the weekend in the Sonning ward because my blood pressure was to low to send me home.
The post surgery was traumatic, I had 10 stitches inside and outside. Getting up from the bed to go for a pee was painful (2 nurses had to lift me up), and every time I had to go to the loo a nurse had to check for blood clots. Every four hours I had to take paracetamol and codeine. Thank God the nurses were so lovely, because by Sunday I was finally sent home.
Depression and anxiety kicked in straight away, so I was referred to a "talk therapist", which I quit after a month. For me, it felt like being in school. I'm currently TTC (trying to conceive) but nothing has happened yet after an year and half, so I've been referred to a fertility clinic. This journey is exhausting, it is a rollercoaster of emotions, tears, and anxiety. It seems everyone moving and I am standing still.
The amount of messages, good and bad, left me speechless. Such as “it wasn't a baby", "it was because you are too stressed", "at least you can get pregnant", and "when you having a baby?" Time is ticking".
These statments make me so angry . I can’t say thank you enough to those who helped me through this dark moment where I thought I couldn't make it. That's why I am here writing in this amazing blog and with a new instagram page (@hope_after_ectopic), for listening and a shoulder to cry on - I will be always here for you all. In the meantime I am still waiting for my rainbow baby.
-Alice