A Story of Loss and Healing - part one
part one - the story of loss
(Disclaimer: In this email, I will be sharing a deeply personal experience involving pregnancy loss. Please take care of your heart and feel free to skip this message if you need to.)
In May of 2019 I suspected I was pregnant, so I took a test. It was negative. I was slightly disappointed, but I was only hours away from visiting my mom in Newfoundland, so that was a happy distraction.
About a week into my visit, I started feeling unwell. It began with minor spotting and cramping, but soon turned to bleeding and severe discomfort. Eventually the pain eased off and I was able to enjoy the rest of my visit.
During my flight home I started to feel awful cramping again (those of you who know me know I’m a terrible flyer, so you can imagine how anxious I was to get home!).
A few days passed and the symptoms were off and on, so I decided to take another pregnancy test. To my surprise it was positive! I was so excited! I couldn’t wait to share the news with my fiancé (now husband, Jimmy). I did all the things, booked my first doctor’s appointment, resisted the urge to tell anyone, took 283 more tests (kidding, but not kidding - I was in disbelief). I was happy! We were both happy!
Here’s where the story takes a turn…
Time passes and my discomfort became unbearable, so I drove myself to the emergency. They took me in right away (an unfortunate indicator of the severity) they confirmed my pregnancy and gave me an ultrasound. The doctor told me there was significant bleeding in my abdomen, but because it was a Sunday she was using a “dinosaur” machine, I would have to come back the following day for proper imaging. Oh and, “bring a support person”.
Completely deflated, Jimmy and I return the next day prepared for the worst (well, we weren’t actually prepared for the reality of what was about to go down). After an ultrasound, bloodwork, and very little explanation, I was sent to the IWK - a local children and maternity hospital. More tests, blah blah blah, I was admitted overnight for monitoring.
At this point, they started explaining to us what an ectopic pregnancy is (when the embryo implants on the outside of the uterus, usually in a fallopian tube. Though rare, this is extremely dangerous and not a viable pregnancy as the embryo cannot survive outside of the uterus.) Even though I believed them as they explained the dangers, I just couldn’t grasp the severity of the situation. I convinced Jimmy to go home (despite his worry for me) followed by a full night of nurses, doctors, and vital monitoring.
Bright and early the next morning a surgeon came to notify me I would need immediate surgery. There was no time to call anyone (including my parents who had no idea this was happening), no time for Jimmy to make it back, surgery was now.
As I awoke from the anesthetic Jimmy was bedside with an update. They removed my right fallopian tube (news I was not prepared for), I lost an excessive amount of blood, and the chances were low of a viable pregnancy in the future.
The experience was a fog, and I hadn’t given myself time to process… until I looked in the mirror for the first time. I looked sad and tired. I was bruised black and blue on the right side from underarm to waist, I had scars and stitches, tender IV sites, dirty hair, and I no longer felt pregnant. That’s when I realized I was heartbroken…
part two - the process of healing
I’ll be sharing the rest of this journey in my next blog post, including what happened after the surgery and how I began to heal—physically and emotionally. It’s a story of loss, but also of resilience and finding light in the darkness. I hope you’ll join me as I continue to share this personal experience.
Love and Light,
Laura