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Ectopic Pregnancy Loss 9 Year Anniversary

Ectopic Pregnancy Loss 9 Year Anniversary

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Nine years ago today, I kissed Death. Death let me go.

Ectopic Pregnancy Loss and Musings on Mythology

John and I were expecting our second child to be born on September 11, 2002. Since my first pregnancy had been normal, I was not scheduled to go to my first appointment until I was more than 8 weeks along. The Sunday before the appointment, something went very wrong.

On February 3rd, 2002, I lost the baby, and nearly lost my life. I started to feel lightheaded and crampy in the late morning. I took a bath, and fainted when I tried to get out of the bathtub. My husband found me doing a wet and naked army crawl toward the bedroom. After I had vomited and lost consciousness twice, my husband spoke to a triage nurse at my ob-gyn practice. Unfortunately, she did not recognize the classic symptoms or timing of an ectopic pregnancy. She thought at first that it was morning sickness, then that I was having a normal miscarriage. The ectopic pregnancy was in my right fallopian tube, which ruptured. I suffered massive internal bleeding, not unlike a burst appendix.

The pain was incredible. I could not lift my head or move from one position without losing consciousness. I thought that perhaps I had cracked all my ribs when I lost consciousness. I stayed home several hours too long, but finally we called for an ambulance.

It was extremely difficult to move me into the ambulance, and they spent almost 45 minutes sitting in the driveway for no apparent reason. However, once we got to the hospital, I got a quick ultrasound and was in the operating room within minutes. As I started to go under, I heard a bit of Pink Floyd’s “Comfortably Numb” in my mind.

I am told by my surgeon (A. Lovelady!!) that I got to the hospital just in the nick of time. After emergency surgery and a massive blood transfusion, my life was saved. If I had still been a Jehovah’s Witness, I would have refused the transfusion and would have died.

I don’t know whether the baby would have been a boy or a girl. Any of you who believe that this tiny fetus might have a continued existence on another plane somewhere, please continue to wing your good thoughts toward my lost one. My feelings about the matter are conflicted. I would like to believe in the images represented by many of the pregnancy loss sites – of a heaven where my baby is an angel welcomed and cherished by Jesus and God. But I don’t really believe this very comforting image. On one side, the expectation of the outcome of pregnancy is a living child – and I feel the loss of that child that will never be. On the other side, we don’t mourn the loss of the unfertilized egg every month, and I do not believe an 8-week-old fetus is yet a person. I am pro-choice, but if I had to decide whether or not to abort, I would deeply prefer not to do it. I simply don’t believe that it is a decision that should be regulated by healthcare systems or the government.

It turns out that despite all the rhetoric of the pro-life movement and all the references to God, there is no official spiritual status for an unborn. There is no ritual, no ceremony, not even a prayer. I called on other resources, and my friend Pat bent the rules a little to comfort me. Thanks, Pat, for the recommendation, respectfully borrowed from the traditional Nez Perce.

Snowbird Guardian Totem

A very tiny little snowbird represents our baby’s guardian spirit. Birds represent the spirit in several world mythologies (including Christianity). Snowbird is a common name for two species of birds, the junco (here the dark-eyed Oregon junco) and the plectrophenax. Snowbirds are strong enough to survive terrible winters. They are plentiful in number and in kind, bringing cheer to the most severe landscape.

This image comforts me, in the sense of Joseph Campbell’s’ definition of myth – a set of images and narratives that help us to feel a sense of meaning and place. We have no functional mythologies for the loss of a pregnancy.

“Myth is the secret opening through which the inexhaustible energies of the cosmos pour into human cultural manifestations.” ~ Joseph Campbell

I do know that there was no way to save this pregnancy. Whether God was involved or not, this baby was simply not destined to become a living child. There is nothing anyone could have done to allow the baby to continue to grow and thrive. We are mourning the loss of the child who would-have-been, but are also grateful that our living child (born in 2000) still has a mother. I have never completely worked through the grief of losing this child-to-be. I am deeply touched by the love and care of friends and family, and I am deeply grateful for my own life. There have been moments of deep sadness. A month after the surgery, when I went for a post-op appointment, I had to fill in a form. When I wrote “2 pregnancies, 1 child” on the form, I felt the first real deep pangs of pain.

A year later, I lost another pregnancy – perhaps because my husband and I are Rh-incompatible. It’s possible that the loss of this baby prevented us from ever bringing another to term. There was so much blood – the shot of Rhogam might not have worked.

There is one saving feature of this whole experience in that by putting our story up on my site, I might have helped to save other lives. I received several emails from women who got to the hospital in time, thanks to a search that found my site before there were many other resources on this topic.

What is an Ectopic Pregnancy?

An ectopic (lit. “out of place”) pregnancy occurs when the embryo never makes it to the uterus and starts to develop in the fallopian tube. Sometimes the embryo can even develop on the ovary or in the abdomen; in this case, it’s known as an abdominal pregnancy.

If an ectopic pregnancy goes undetected, it strains the tube, which isn’t designed to expand. Then, 6-8 weeks after conception, the embryo will cause severe abdominal pain. Common symptoms of ectopic pregnancy are sharp abdominal cramps or pains on one side. Neck pains and shoulder pains are also common.

Ectopic pregnancies are very dangerous. If the tube ruptures (which mine did), there could be severe internal bleeding, which is a critical life-threatening situation. (For those of you with a medical background, I could barely breathe by the time I got to the hospital, and they irrigated me for 25 minutes once they had me open.)

Once the ectopic pregnancy is confirmed, emergency surgery and a skilled surgeon is required. This is delicate surgery. If the fallopian tube cannot be saved, it will be removed.

Some people consider those who have had to have surgery in this situation to have “decided to have an abortion” and feel free to judge them. I can only hope that this view is based more in ignorance than in disregard for a woman’s life.

Ectopic pregnancy is the leading cause of pregnancy-related death.

Urgent Care Issues at the Clinic

Urgent Care Issues at the Clinic

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Perhaps it was the dancing at the wedding. Perhaps it was the new shoes. Or maybe it was just an extension of that slight crick I had in my neck when I woke up Sunday.

Whatever the cause, I’ve been experiencing some pretty serious back pain for the last couple of days. Somewhere between the bottom of my neck and the blades of my shoulders, something is terribly wrong.

I went to the University clinic yesterday to find out what. Information helps me to navigate pain. Since the pain was getting worse instead of better, I thought I’d better take the opportunity to do so, while I could still drive. I relied more heavily than usual on my car mirrors. Gosh! Objects are closer than they appear.

I got there at 9:30 a.m. A nurse interviewed me out in the waiting room. I was told that my doctor had patients, but that they would try to work me in. I let her know that I would see any doctor that could be made available. Then I sat. For a really long time.

After about twenty minutes, I was told that I could see my doctor at noon.

I went in the bathroom to cry.

Then I came back out, and read most of a book. Then, when I couldn’t read, I went outside and cried again.

I approached the desk:

“Um… I’m here for an urgent pain situation. Don’t you have an on-call doctor specifically for walk-ins?”

The two women at the desk semi-glared at me. Ok, my tone was a little ugly. I admit that.

However, this time there was someone behind the big desk who seemed to care. He asked me how long I had been waiting, and what was going on. After I told him, he explained that I really would just have to wait, but that he would check me in and get me into a room so that I could lie down while I was waiting. I was very grateful for that. It made a huge difference, and it let me get through the experience without bursting into tears again.

By the way, I tend to be a bit of a stoic. I don’t cry that often. It really, truly hurt, and my frustration level intensified the situation.

Well, I finally saw my doctor. She didn’t order an x-ray. She felt that it was a muscle issue, not a skeletal one. Yes, the vertebrae were all messed up, but with the deep muscle spasms that were by this time affecting much of my back (and radiating to my shoulders and arms, and not allowing me to turn my head very far to the left) had to be calmed down before an x-ray would make any sense anyway.

There was an amusing moment when she asked me how I would rate the pain from 1-10. I hate that question. Pain is so subjective, and I always have the tendency to under-rate it (stoic, see?). I said that if I hadn’t experienced a ruptured ectopic pregnancy, I would put it at a 10. She smiled at me. She got it. That was a whole different kind of scale – at that point, I’m not sure it’s even pain anymore, but we don’t really have another word to describe it.

This back pain is the worst muscle pain I’ve ever felt, though.

Evidently, using the hot tub was the wrong thing to do. She said I could try that later, when the muscles were healing. As it was, it probably disturbed the muscles even further.

She prescribed me a muscle relaxant so I could sleep at night, and told me to take ibuprofen during the day. She also advised ice packs. “Cold, not hot.”

Ahhh, the ice feels really, really good. It seems to be doing more than the medicine.

On the way out, I went back to the desk to thank the man who had cared enough to take what action he could to make things easier for me. He said that he thought I had a point, and asked me if I wanted to make any suggestions for the clinic. I bit back my immediate response. However, I did say that some sort of back-up was clearly needed for the urgent care situations that didn’t necessarily require a visit to the emergency room. I said that I would be glad to make myself available to talk to any decision-makers about the issues involved.

Then I went to fill the prescription, but evidently my coverage had changed and I had the wrong card. Sigh. So I drove back – just in time to pick up Ben from school – extricated the necessary information from J, and went back. That wait was only 20 minutes. By the time I was able to rest, I felt like I’d been run over by an 18-wheeler.

Well, guess what? I got a call today. The clinic is in the process of rethinking some of the procedures, so it was good timing. Perhaps they could have a doctor on-call who wouldn’t make appointments for the time – if there wasn’t an immediate need, such a doctor could still use the time to catch up on patient case records and follow-up. I mentioned the model of the pediatrician’s office, with well-waiting, sick-waiting, and so on. That might make sense for infection control too. She thanked me and said that my feedback would be taken into account. I hope so.

I have the feeling that medical groups like this are dumping patients on emergency rooms more than ever. I think it’s unethical – it doesn’t make economic sense and it certainly doesn’t give the best care to the patient. Moreover, I’ll bet that most emergency rooms are kept very busy with real emergencies. I’ve seen studies about their lack of preparedness for community-level emergency situations. Wouldn’t managed care facilities then be called upon as well?

There have been times when I didn’t seek medical help because I was too sick to face the daunting prospect of sitting there waiting for hours, and I didn’t want to infect anyone else. I had a really bad flu a few years ago, and I actually felt that I would be a danger to others if I left the house. With flu, you can do that, but the doctor needed to see me for this kind of situation.

Today, since I haven’t had to sit in an uncomfortable waiting room chair for hours, my back is not punching me with the excruciating level of pain that it was yesterday. It’s still a bit intense, but the ice packs and medication are starting to have some effect. I still can’t move my head, but the pain is more localized. I know exactly where it’s coming from now.

So that’s progress.

Least Immoral Choice in Iraq

Least Immoral Choice in Iraq

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We still haven’t heard an answer to the basic question: for what “noble cause” have we invaded Iraq?

Are we in Iraq just to secure the oil for the energy companies that get so much support of every kind from the US government?

Not to be a party pooper or anything, but what about the death and pain and chaos and suffering? What is the reason for the sacrifices of U.S. and other allied soldiers? What is the justification for the thousands killed on every side?

For what reason have we punched the hornet’s nest in Iraq?

For what are we going into further, almost unthinkable debt?

How much longer will we turn away from the reality?

Declare war, or cut executive powers of war.

Argue for oil interests, or stop killing for them. You can’t tell me that we don’t have permanent bases along the pipeline.

Don’t send thousands more Americans out there. How does that help anything at all?

I’m just waiting for the someone to start making comparisons between the executions of Saddam and Jesus. USA Pilate and Judas, all mixed into one. Yeah, we made him, and we’ll make sure he’s hung like a witch… start the taunting…

Look! Look at reality. This is not a movie.

Wake up, America. Your future is being stolen from you, too.

The thing I remember most vividly is the soldiers screaming in pain and crying out for their mothers. My mother went up and down the aisles holding their hands, stroking their brows, giving them sips of water. My sister helped light their cigarettes. Many of them were amputees. Some had no stomachs, some had no faces. …

I hope that when President Bush discusses sending more troops to Iraq, knowing that we will have to pull out sooner rather than later, that the conversation comes around to the human suffering. Does anyone at the table ask about the personal anguish, the long-term effects, emotional, psychological and financial, on the families of those killed, wounded or permanently disabled?

When I hear about the surge, all I can think of is those young soldiers on the plane to Texas. We have already lost more than 3,000 soldiers, and many more have been wounded and disabled.

We have three choices here. All three are immoral. We can keep the status quo and gradually pull out; we can surge; or we can pull out now. When I think about those young soldiers on that plane coming back from Japan years ago, I believe pulling out now is the least immoral choice.

from The Least Immoral Choice: Squander No More U.S. Lives in Iraq
By Sally Quinn
(Washington Post Tuesday, January 9, 2007; Page A15)
(Sally Quinn is a co-moderator of On Faith, an online conversation on religion.)