This week I've ticked over to 28-weeks pregnant and officially into the last trimester. Entering the last trimester I've found things getting a little more about the business end having a baby - which makes a lot of sense I guess.
This week I've had a pre-admission interview with the private hospital we are having the baby at and I'm sorry to report it was a dead set downer.
Making it to this pregnant is still amazing to me. And for the past few weeks I've really enjoyed being pregnant and started believing I will have a baby soon. I do still sometimes catch myself, and think 'don't count your baby before it's born' - but then I feel the little munchkin kicking away and I'm back to thinking about the much more likely scenario of having a real small person of our own soon.
The telephone pre-admission call didn't start well. I'd missed my initial appointment, so this time I was on the ball waiting for the call, that didn't come. I followed up after half an hour and soon enough I got a call from a midwife. After going through the basics I hit the wonderful question regarding what number pregnancy this is, whether I'd had any miscarriages and terminations. The joy of explaining this is my sixth pregnancy and we've had no children. Then having to remember every lost pregnancy and every hospital the procedures were done in. Trying to explain the heterotopic pregnancy. It was bloody hard - and confusing. She was rushing ahead, getting the details wrong. In the end I was so flustered I couldn't even remember when one of the miscarriages happened. After we went through this history she then asked whether this pregnancy was naturally conceived. Uhmmm, no, it was IVF - did you not just take down my left fallopian tube and then my right fallopian tube were removed due to ectopic pregnancies?
For the past weeks I'd put thoughts about the losses behind and was just enjoying this pregnancy, so all that was a bummer. The midwife then asked about gestational diabetes. I'd just done the test on the weekend and my obstetrician had confirmed that I wasn't diagnosed with gestational diabetes. Yay. He did mention that my numbers were on the high side of normal, so he would keep track of the measurements of baby just to make sure everything was okay on that front. So I tell the midwife I'd been tested and it came back negative. She looked up my results and then proceeded to lecture me on my numbers being high and that I didn't want to get gestational diabetes. I told her my ob said he'd keep an eye on the baby's measurements. She continued telling me I should be watching what I eat and only eating low GI. If I get gestational diabetes the likelihood of me getting diabetes later in life is increased. Oh and did I know I was already overweight, which puts more pressure on the body and the insulin resistance that can develop...
Yes, I did know I was overweight. Yes I know the risks of gestational diabetes. Yes I got your brochures on breast feeding but figured until I had a baby to try it out with it probably wasn't worth reading. Can we move on now and focus on the miracle that I'm actually 28-weeks pregnant. No, let's talk about my mental health. How am I feeling? Well, now that I'm thinking about the fact that I'm overweight, and that even though I don't have gestational diabetes you've made me panic about my chance of still developing it and remembering the 6 babies I've lost over the past four years, I'm feeling a little sad actually. But 30 minutes ago, I felt great and yes I can cope with the house work, or cope if the house work doesn't get done. Believe me, I've got that down pat.
My first midwife experience and I didn't love it. Yay. So glad I have an awesome, non-panic instilling obstetrician that I get to see instead of seeing scary, kind-of-heartless midwife.
Our next obstetrician's appointment is just over a week away. At our last appointment our ob did the scan to check baby's measurements and mini matty is shaping up to be a big boy. His head measured on the 75th percentile, his femur measured 5cm, which was smack bang in the middle on the 50th percentile, but his abdomen measured on the 97th percentile! He averaged out as being on the 80th percentile and weighing an estimated 965 grams. Apparently all that is fine, if he is just growing to his genetic potential. The key is the measurements that will be taken at our next appointment and whether mini matty is still growing at the same rate. Growing too quickly, getting too big is the problem, and the key problem for gestational diabetes - that I don't have, but apparently I don't get to relax about that until these next measurements are done and (fingers crossed) mini matty measures on around the 80th percentile still.
The pre-admission phone call is a blip and I've been back to loving it again. Last night I did some research and decided what type of bouncer I'd like to get... imagine our own little person bouncing away...
Showing posts with label ectopic pregnancy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label ectopic pregnancy. Show all posts
Friday, August 2, 2013
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Excitement as a new cycle begins
Let's face it, I've had a crazy year. We've had a crazy year. Getting pregnant has been happening. Damn fallopian tubes have been a problem, but they are gone. I wonder about the babies that got stuck in the tubes, maybe they were okay, maybe they had the same chromosomal problems the babies that have miscarried did - I don't know. But surely out of eight shiny, beautiful embryos there must be a couple of good ones.
I've already started with blood tests, looking for ovulation this cycle. Based on the results that I'm getting, the fertility specialist thinks that is going to happen in the next couple of days and when it does, we are taking two shiny, little embryos out of the freezer.
Given our history, I don't think that both will take. All I want is one to do what it is supposed to do. And if somehow both stick, I'm ready to cope with double trouble. As ready as anyone - who has no kids and no idea just how hard that could possibly be - can be.
In the past couple of months I've been surrounded by people having babies, my neighbour, three of my work colleagues, my in-laws. I feel like I've cuddled more babies in the last month than I have in my whole life. And each cuddle seems to give me more hope.
I have such hope for this cycle I can barely contain it. Every once and a while I catch a glimpse of my own enthusiasm and I start to think about how having so much hope means I'm also potentially in for a big fall if it doesn't work. I'm throwing caution to the wind. I just don't want to put the breaks on my enthusiasm. I really want this cycle to work and I can't see any reason why it shouldn't, so why shouldn't I be hopeful, excited and positive.
All positive baby making vibes are welcomed over the next couple of weeks. :)
I've already started with blood tests, looking for ovulation this cycle. Based on the results that I'm getting, the fertility specialist thinks that is going to happen in the next couple of days and when it does, we are taking two shiny, little embryos out of the freezer.
Given our history, I don't think that both will take. All I want is one to do what it is supposed to do. And if somehow both stick, I'm ready to cope with double trouble. As ready as anyone - who has no kids and no idea just how hard that could possibly be - can be.
In the past couple of months I've been surrounded by people having babies, my neighbour, three of my work colleagues, my in-laws. I feel like I've cuddled more babies in the last month than I have in my whole life. And each cuddle seems to give me more hope.
I have such hope for this cycle I can barely contain it. Every once and a while I catch a glimpse of my own enthusiasm and I start to think about how having so much hope means I'm also potentially in for a big fall if it doesn't work. I'm throwing caution to the wind. I just don't want to put the breaks on my enthusiasm. I really want this cycle to work and I can't see any reason why it shouldn't, so why shouldn't I be hopeful, excited and positive.
All positive baby making vibes are welcomed over the next couple of weeks. :)
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Taking a step back
Most people who know me, know I work pretty hard. I am reliable. If I have a job to do, it gets done. I take my work very seriously and while I love to have fun at work it would never be at the expense of actually performing my role to the highest standard.
This year I've had two unexpected lengthy drop outs of the office for ectopic pregnancy surgery and recovery and one shorter planned drop out for my gallbladder surgery. I am grateful that because I have been a hard worker with the one employer for a long time I have a large sick leave balance, that even now (after 50 sick days since February) has a few weeks left in it. So I'm not on sick leave stressing about getting back to work for the money, I'm stressing about letting people down and not getting to complete things for which I was responsible.
With the curette confirmed I decide to meet with work and ask if I could return to work part-time. I feel so distressed about the idea of returning full-time to the same role. I just don't have the same stamina to manage the pressure of the day-to-day work load. I'm so lucky because I know just in my asking that my workplace will do practically anything to help me out. The Acting CEO is more than happy to arrange a 3-day week for me and to have me oversee a few smaller, special projects instead of the state-wide role I'd been performing.
Phew. It is a massive release to know for at least 3-months I will return to work only 3-days a week. More days off than in the office. Excellent.
The next day is curette day. It is uneventful, fast and painless when compared to every other surgery I've had in 2011. It is also sad. I remember my first one of these procedures I had back in 2009 when we lost our first pregnancy and I know I'm nowhere near as sad and that I'm emotionally dealing with this better. I guess so much has happened since then.
The following week I finally get to have a follow up appointment with my fertility specialist. It feels like months since I've seen him, but it only a few weeks. When he sees me waiting in his rooms he looks sheepish and says "I don't think I want to see you." I tell him too bad, that I have a massive list of questions so he is just going to have to suck it up. As we walk down the corridor he puts his arm around my shoulders and says "I'm so sorry".
I wasn't joking about my list - I had written one as I was worried when I got in there I would forget everything. The first thing he answers is the result of the curette. They test the products of conception to find out if there is a reason the baby miscarried. Like our first miscarriage there was a chromosomal problem, the fetus had two extra chromosomes. So it wasn't the drugs, or the surgeries, or the infections that caused the miscarriage, it was nature.
The rest of the list is pretty straight forward, except for my belly button wound - which is STILL OOZING! Not as badly as the initial infection, but just not healed. My specialist takes another swab and armed with the results of my blood cultures from when I was in hospital he send it off to be tested. He gives me a new antibiotics prescription that I am only to fill if he rings me with the result of the swab.
It turned out I was still infected, so I needed to go back on the antibiotics.
Now it is a waiting game where only my emotional health will determine when we get back in the IVF saddle. Thankfully there are eight little frozen embryos ready and waiting to be transferred, when I think I'm ready for another go. Initially I was thinking 3 months off, but we'll see... with no chance of natural conception, I think I will find myself wanting to get back into it sooner, especially while I'm able to take a step back at work and focus on myself for a while.
This year I've had two unexpected lengthy drop outs of the office for ectopic pregnancy surgery and recovery and one shorter planned drop out for my gallbladder surgery. I am grateful that because I have been a hard worker with the one employer for a long time I have a large sick leave balance, that even now (after 50 sick days since February) has a few weeks left in it. So I'm not on sick leave stressing about getting back to work for the money, I'm stressing about letting people down and not getting to complete things for which I was responsible.
With the curette confirmed I decide to meet with work and ask if I could return to work part-time. I feel so distressed about the idea of returning full-time to the same role. I just don't have the same stamina to manage the pressure of the day-to-day work load. I'm so lucky because I know just in my asking that my workplace will do practically anything to help me out. The Acting CEO is more than happy to arrange a 3-day week for me and to have me oversee a few smaller, special projects instead of the state-wide role I'd been performing.
Phew. It is a massive release to know for at least 3-months I will return to work only 3-days a week. More days off than in the office. Excellent.
The next day is curette day. It is uneventful, fast and painless when compared to every other surgery I've had in 2011. It is also sad. I remember my first one of these procedures I had back in 2009 when we lost our first pregnancy and I know I'm nowhere near as sad and that I'm emotionally dealing with this better. I guess so much has happened since then.
The following week I finally get to have a follow up appointment with my fertility specialist. It feels like months since I've seen him, but it only a few weeks. When he sees me waiting in his rooms he looks sheepish and says "I don't think I want to see you." I tell him too bad, that I have a massive list of questions so he is just going to have to suck it up. As we walk down the corridor he puts his arm around my shoulders and says "I'm so sorry".
I wasn't joking about my list - I had written one as I was worried when I got in there I would forget everything. The first thing he answers is the result of the curette. They test the products of conception to find out if there is a reason the baby miscarried. Like our first miscarriage there was a chromosomal problem, the fetus had two extra chromosomes. So it wasn't the drugs, or the surgeries, or the infections that caused the miscarriage, it was nature.
The rest of the list is pretty straight forward, except for my belly button wound - which is STILL OOZING! Not as badly as the initial infection, but just not healed. My specialist takes another swab and armed with the results of my blood cultures from when I was in hospital he send it off to be tested. He gives me a new antibiotics prescription that I am only to fill if he rings me with the result of the swab.
It turned out I was still infected, so I needed to go back on the antibiotics.
Now it is a waiting game where only my emotional health will determine when we get back in the IVF saddle. Thankfully there are eight little frozen embryos ready and waiting to be transferred, when I think I'm ready for another go. Initially I was thinking 3 months off, but we'll see... with no chance of natural conception, I think I will find myself wanting to get back into it sooner, especially while I'm able to take a step back at work and focus on myself for a while.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
Truly, irreversibly infertile
Within a couple of hours I am awake in the Mater Mother's ward, Women's Health Unit. They seem to have two floors, one for the mothers with new arrivals, and one for women with all the other gynaecological problems. I'm in a shared room, with another girl who was also admitted to emergency during the night. It seems she also has an ectopic, but is waiting a lot longer for her surgery.
When I wake up I learn I have a catheter - something I haven't had the previous two laparoscopic surgeries. I'm not sure why the doctor's decided I needed one this time. It is a bit weird and I still feel like I need to pee, even with it in. The nurses relocate the bag that my bladder is emptying into and I feel a bit better. It is still weird. The nurses convince me I'm better off keeping it in overnight. I remember how much it hurts to get up and move around after surgery - and that I need to go to the loo every hour because of the drip continually adding fluid to the system - I decide being able to rest would be better.
It is at times like these I appreciate how lucky I am to have such a caring, loving and supportive family. My husband is of course back by my side. My sister comes in to visit soon after. And my aunt and uncle who have lived through the same heart ache visit later in the evening. I'm pretty much exhausted (as is Matt). We have barely slept the night before and I've been pumped full of a range of serious medications. Once Matt knows I'm okay and that I'm basically in need of sleep he decides to head home and get some rest.
Late in the night my room mate is wheeled off to surgery. I have asked the nurses to open the curtains and I snoozily look at the view of the inner city suburb as I drift in and out of sleep.
In the morning the surgical crew is in to visit me. They have images to show me of my insides. It is a little surreal. My urterus looks like a smooth, round, red balloon. My fallopian tube on the other hand looks like an angry black sausage that is about to burst (of course it had burst!). They explain I needed an extra port for the surgery, so instead of three I have four wounds. The extra port was needed to help protect the uterus. I had lost some blood into the abdomen, but not too much. The tube is now gone. My wounds are glued not stitched. I can't really remember much else.
There is no doubt, I am now truly, irreversibly infertile. Still processing that. I'm also still pregnant. Infertile and pregnant. I've been a little paranoid about all the drugs, pain killers and so forth, but what can I do? I ask the ob/gyn that performed the surgery whether it is a problem that the gestation sack is measuring a bit small for my dates. He firmly believes it is too early to tell and that while it is still there, that is a good thing. He agrees that the best thing I can do is wait the additional week and day and get the diagnostic scan my fertility specialist recommended.
I'm discharged late in the day after being checked to see if I have a urinary tract infection (UTI). I'm running a bit of a temperature so that is what made them think it could be a UTI. I'm cleared of the UTI and pleased to be home. My fertility specialist rings me. He is again so sympathetic. He is on his holiday and ringing me to discuss how it all went. He is really sorry he missed the ectopic on the scan in his rooms and he is sorry he wasn't there when I needed surgery. He asks what has happened to the pregnancy that is intrauterine. I tell him it is still there, but that the gestation sack is only measuring 5 weeks and 1 day. He seems so surprised that the fallopian tube ruptured given how small the pregnancy is. He tells me he will look up my file as soon as he gets back from holiday to check on the progress of the remaining pregnancy.
I physically start to recover very quickly. I'm surprised by how well I'm moving and how little pain I have. I was really sore after my first ectopic pregnancy laparoscopic back in February. Only two days after I'm discharged we are leaving for the beach. The holiday has been planned for a while, so even though I'm going to be a bit steady, if you have to rest, where better than by the beach.
When I wake up I learn I have a catheter - something I haven't had the previous two laparoscopic surgeries. I'm not sure why the doctor's decided I needed one this time. It is a bit weird and I still feel like I need to pee, even with it in. The nurses relocate the bag that my bladder is emptying into and I feel a bit better. It is still weird. The nurses convince me I'm better off keeping it in overnight. I remember how much it hurts to get up and move around after surgery - and that I need to go to the loo every hour because of the drip continually adding fluid to the system - I decide being able to rest would be better.
It is at times like these I appreciate how lucky I am to have such a caring, loving and supportive family. My husband is of course back by my side. My sister comes in to visit soon after. And my aunt and uncle who have lived through the same heart ache visit later in the evening. I'm pretty much exhausted (as is Matt). We have barely slept the night before and I've been pumped full of a range of serious medications. Once Matt knows I'm okay and that I'm basically in need of sleep he decides to head home and get some rest.
Late in the night my room mate is wheeled off to surgery. I have asked the nurses to open the curtains and I snoozily look at the view of the inner city suburb as I drift in and out of sleep.
In the morning the surgical crew is in to visit me. They have images to show me of my insides. It is a little surreal. My urterus looks like a smooth, round, red balloon. My fallopian tube on the other hand looks like an angry black sausage that is about to burst (of course it had burst!). They explain I needed an extra port for the surgery, so instead of three I have four wounds. The extra port was needed to help protect the uterus. I had lost some blood into the abdomen, but not too much. The tube is now gone. My wounds are glued not stitched. I can't really remember much else.
There is no doubt, I am now truly, irreversibly infertile. Still processing that. I'm also still pregnant. Infertile and pregnant. I've been a little paranoid about all the drugs, pain killers and so forth, but what can I do? I ask the ob/gyn that performed the surgery whether it is a problem that the gestation sack is measuring a bit small for my dates. He firmly believes it is too early to tell and that while it is still there, that is a good thing. He agrees that the best thing I can do is wait the additional week and day and get the diagnostic scan my fertility specialist recommended.
I'm discharged late in the day after being checked to see if I have a urinary tract infection (UTI). I'm running a bit of a temperature so that is what made them think it could be a UTI. I'm cleared of the UTI and pleased to be home. My fertility specialist rings me. He is again so sympathetic. He is on his holiday and ringing me to discuss how it all went. He is really sorry he missed the ectopic on the scan in his rooms and he is sorry he wasn't there when I needed surgery. He asks what has happened to the pregnancy that is intrauterine. I tell him it is still there, but that the gestation sack is only measuring 5 weeks and 1 day. He seems so surprised that the fallopian tube ruptured given how small the pregnancy is. He tells me he will look up my file as soon as he gets back from holiday to check on the progress of the remaining pregnancy.
I physically start to recover very quickly. I'm surprised by how well I'm moving and how little pain I have. I was really sore after my first ectopic pregnancy laparoscopic back in February. Only two days after I'm discharged we are leaving for the beach. The holiday has been planned for a while, so even though I'm going to be a bit steady, if you have to rest, where better than by the beach.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Baby 1 and Baby 2?
My scan appointment is for late in the day so that Matt can be there too. Waiting, waiting, waiting all day. I've come down with a terrible cold so I've had the day at home resting up and waiting, waiting, waiting.
Early scans like these are all done internally, so when I get into the ultrasound room I've given a few minutes to strip off the lower half and then recline on a funny half bed covered in a sheet. It is a lot more modest than the embryo transfer, so I don't mind too much.
In strides the doctor and he quickly gets to the scan. Within a minute he has ultrasound probe prepared, inserted as required and is showing us a gestation sack that is firmly in the middle of my uterus. Good news! He tells us it is little too early to see anything else. He takes a bit of a look around just to be sure the other embryo that is transfered hasn't taken up residence in my remaining fallopian tube. It looks all pretty good. The specialist leaves me to get dressed and asks me to come across to his consultation room.
Matt and I are really happy - one baby in the right spot. Really it is the best outcome. The safest for the baby and for me. Our best chance for a healthy baby.
We sit down with the specialist and I ask about the bleeding. It has been going on, just very lightly for nearly a week and a half. The specialist tells me (again!) that it is really, really, really common in early pregnancy. He goes on to say that placentas are very complex and that they are continuing to implant and establish for the first 10 or so weeks, so that is the most likely cause. I just have to hang in there.
As my specialist is about to head off on about three weeks leave he gives me a referral to have a diagnostic ultrasound done. He says I should get it done in about a week and a half. By this time we should definitely be able to see a heartbeat and the like if all is progressing well. The diagnostic scan timing falls for when we are on holidays too, but we won't be to far from a major regional centre, so we are confident we will be able to find a radiology clinic to do the scan.
Matt and I are super happy. It is only a few days until our holiday, we have a little baby growing in the right spot. And the bleeding is normal. My new mantra - the bleeding is normal.
That night I drift off to sleep happy and thinking about our one little baby.
At 10.45pm I'm awake and in pain. It is very localised on the right side of my lower abdomen. I wake Matt and tell him I'm in pain. I decide to ring the 13 HEALTH number - a new service introduced in Queensland where you can ring and speak to a nurse about your symptoms. I'm on hold, the pain is not improving, no matter what I do. I hang up and go into the bedroom and say "that's it we are going to emergency."
Matt quickly gets dressed and we are on our way. Really, I was only ringing 13 HEALTH to get permission to go to emergency. Why do I need permission? I'm in pain, I know I'm pregnant, I know I had two embryos implanted and only one is in the uterus, the pain is on the right side (and radiating down my right leg) where an ectopic would most likely be, or it could be a miscarriage. I should be in hospital.
We go straight to the Mater, because we know where that is, and they have a big mother's ward - so I assume obstetrics is in their specialty. I actually rang the Mater Private emergency to ask if I came there if I would be able to see a specialist of my choice, given I have a number of doctors who are involved in this pregnancy and a whole fertility specialist group that my specialist is a part of. They say no, so we figure we may as well go to the public hospital.
At the public hospital emergency I'm admitted to a bed immediately. They are asking what I give my pain out of ten. Now, only two months earlier I had the same question with the gallbladder and it was really high. I think my pain threshold was confused because this was so localised to one spot and I kept saying maybe three or four.
Once again I have the needles in (a cannula to be precise) and blood coming out.
I couldn't sit still. I was rocking on the bed, and then I was crouching on the floor, trying to sit in the seat beside the bed, pacing around. Nothing helped. The nurse kept suggesting I should take some pain relief, but I didn't want to, I was worried about the baby being affected. This went on for the hours. The nurse trying to convince me, me rejecting the offer.
I feel the bleeding is picking up. I panic that it is a miscarriage. I go to the bathroom to change my pad to a hospital issue surf board size pad and have to leave my old pad wrapped up for the nurse (a male nurse) to inspect. Again, modesty is not a helpful trait when needing medical treatments. The nurse assures me that it isn't too much loss, not really all that heavy at all. Really? This is like 100 times what I've been having everyday and has been sending me into a panic and they don't think it is too bad. Crazy. How much blood does there need to be for it to be bad?
A doctor comes in to see me and immediately asks the nurse to bring me some pain relief. She doesn't even ask if I want it, just tells me I need it. I swallow down the pill. We discuss all the things I know about the IVF cycle, the pregnancy, the dates and the pain. I cry because I tell her I think it is miscarriage. She says she will do an examination of cervix to determine if it is a miscarriage once they have my blood test results back.
I'm again rocking and rocking on the bed. The nurse comes over and says to me "you see, you don't look to me like you are not in pain. You look like you have a lot of pain. What do you say to me giving you something that will make it possible for you get comfortable and maybe get some rest." I finally agree. I get a shot of morphine straight into my IV. It hits me instantly and I say "whoa - I need to lie down".
It is a lot better without the pain. Matt is wide eyed beside the bed. I keep telling him how glad I am we came into the hospital.
The doctor comes back and has a tray of instruments to look at my cervix. Basically the duck beak thing they use for pap smears and some long skinny tong/tweezer things and dressings so she clean up the cervix (of the supposedly not too heavy bleeding) and have a good look. She tells me the cervix is still closed. If I was miscarrying this probably wouldn't be the case. In her opinion it is not a miscarriage. She also doesn't think it is an ectopic - just because of my symptoms and my pain. To her the pain I describe and exhibit seems more like stones, kidney stones. She is poking around my sides and back asking if I have any pain.
Once she goes Matt and I are kind of in disbelief - more stones! This is getting ridiculous. How many things can possibly go wrong with me. At least we are a little more at ease that it isn't likely we are miscarrying. Our one little baby is still tucked away in there.
Whenever I see my nurse I ask if my blood tests are back and if he can tell me my HCG number. I want to know it. I manage to snooze a little, but Matt is on guard by the bed. He gets no sleep at all and is looking weary. I ask my nurse again about the HCG and he looks it up. It is in the mid 7000s. The nurse doesn't know really what it means, just that it is in the normal range for how far along I am. I know it is okay based on my other HCG results I can quickly calculate that number is fine.
The morning shifts are changing over. We are meeting new nurses and doctors and I am advised we are waiting on an ultrasound to have a good look around my pelvis. I decide I'll let my sister know I'm in the hospital. She lives just up the road and will be a good place for Matt to have a rest, once we know what is going on.
Time flies in the hospital. There is so much going on and I'm half out of it on morphine. Around 10am I'm wheeled off to ultrasound. The external scan doesn't show anything, so we need to do an internal again. Pretty quickly the sonographer is onto the issue - there appears to be a second pregnancy and there is bleeding in my abdomen. A ruptured ectopic. The pregnancy that is in the uterus is measuring 5 weeks and 1 day by the gestation sack. This seems a little small to me. By my numbers gestation wise I should be around 6 weeks and 1 day, but this is not the issue right now.
The sonographer leaves to speak with the doctor for radiology. The doctor comes back with her and has a look at the scans. He tells me we have an heterotopic pregnancy and that even though they are more common with assisted fertility, they are still pretty unusual. He says unassisted heterotopic pregnancies occur only 1 in 30,000. With assisted reproduction (like IVF) heterotopic pregnancy occurs in about 1 in 3000 pregnancies, which is still reasonably unusual.
I'm wheeled back to emergency. The emergency doctor tells me the gynaecology registrar will be down to see me and discuss what needs to happen next. Within 15 minutes the gynaecology guy turns up at the end of my bed and tells me again, that I have an ectopic pregnancy. He asks a few questions about why we started doing IVF. I'm surprised by the question and respond "to try to get pregnant". After a couple more questions it turns out, what he is getting at is that this surgery is likely going to result in my losing my right fallopian tube. I've already lost my left fallopian tube. Losing the right tube means we no longer can conceive naturally at all. He is trying to ascertain how we feel about that and whether we would prefer to try to save the tube.
I'm still coming to terms with what our decision will mean for us. Matt and I quickly discuss it and decide we'd rather not have the chance of having another ectopic pregnancy and as we are firmly down the IVF path we tell the guy to just take the tube. My aunty had three ectopic pregnancies, all at around my age. In her case the tube that they removed the pregnancy from and stitched back up just caused her to have another ectopic and then they took the tube anyway. I don't want that to happen. I really don't want to be back in hospital for this again. See ya later fallopian tube and last chance at natural conception in the future.
Before midday I am being wheeled up to surgery. It really is happening very, very fast. Matt says goodbye just outside theatre. An orderly takes Matt up to the gynaecology ward, so he will know where to find me after the surgery. Thankfully Matt has arranged to go back to my sister's and get some rest while I'm in surgery and recovery.
I'm wheeled into theatre. A whole stack of new faces. The anaesthetist is asking me questions - my asthma is always the issue - I haven't taken my medication. A new ventolin inhaler appears and I'm inhaling puffs, just to be careful. The consulting gynaecologist introduces himself - he is doing the surgery. They will do everything they can to protect the baby that is intrauterine. I'm sliding across onto the table. It is some different bean bag thing, I'm rustling into position. I already have the cannula in my arm so the anaesthetist is injecting me with what ever and I'm out to it.
Early scans like these are all done internally, so when I get into the ultrasound room I've given a few minutes to strip off the lower half and then recline on a funny half bed covered in a sheet. It is a lot more modest than the embryo transfer, so I don't mind too much.
In strides the doctor and he quickly gets to the scan. Within a minute he has ultrasound probe prepared, inserted as required and is showing us a gestation sack that is firmly in the middle of my uterus. Good news! He tells us it is little too early to see anything else. He takes a bit of a look around just to be sure the other embryo that is transfered hasn't taken up residence in my remaining fallopian tube. It looks all pretty good. The specialist leaves me to get dressed and asks me to come across to his consultation room.
Matt and I are really happy - one baby in the right spot. Really it is the best outcome. The safest for the baby and for me. Our best chance for a healthy baby.
We sit down with the specialist and I ask about the bleeding. It has been going on, just very lightly for nearly a week and a half. The specialist tells me (again!) that it is really, really, really common in early pregnancy. He goes on to say that placentas are very complex and that they are continuing to implant and establish for the first 10 or so weeks, so that is the most likely cause. I just have to hang in there.
As my specialist is about to head off on about three weeks leave he gives me a referral to have a diagnostic ultrasound done. He says I should get it done in about a week and a half. By this time we should definitely be able to see a heartbeat and the like if all is progressing well. The diagnostic scan timing falls for when we are on holidays too, but we won't be to far from a major regional centre, so we are confident we will be able to find a radiology clinic to do the scan.
Matt and I are super happy. It is only a few days until our holiday, we have a little baby growing in the right spot. And the bleeding is normal. My new mantra - the bleeding is normal.
That night I drift off to sleep happy and thinking about our one little baby.
At 10.45pm I'm awake and in pain. It is very localised on the right side of my lower abdomen. I wake Matt and tell him I'm in pain. I decide to ring the 13 HEALTH number - a new service introduced in Queensland where you can ring and speak to a nurse about your symptoms. I'm on hold, the pain is not improving, no matter what I do. I hang up and go into the bedroom and say "that's it we are going to emergency."
Matt quickly gets dressed and we are on our way. Really, I was only ringing 13 HEALTH to get permission to go to emergency. Why do I need permission? I'm in pain, I know I'm pregnant, I know I had two embryos implanted and only one is in the uterus, the pain is on the right side (and radiating down my right leg) where an ectopic would most likely be, or it could be a miscarriage. I should be in hospital.
We go straight to the Mater, because we know where that is, and they have a big mother's ward - so I assume obstetrics is in their specialty. I actually rang the Mater Private emergency to ask if I came there if I would be able to see a specialist of my choice, given I have a number of doctors who are involved in this pregnancy and a whole fertility specialist group that my specialist is a part of. They say no, so we figure we may as well go to the public hospital.
At the public hospital emergency I'm admitted to a bed immediately. They are asking what I give my pain out of ten. Now, only two months earlier I had the same question with the gallbladder and it was really high. I think my pain threshold was confused because this was so localised to one spot and I kept saying maybe three or four.
Once again I have the needles in (a cannula to be precise) and blood coming out.
I couldn't sit still. I was rocking on the bed, and then I was crouching on the floor, trying to sit in the seat beside the bed, pacing around. Nothing helped. The nurse kept suggesting I should take some pain relief, but I didn't want to, I was worried about the baby being affected. This went on for the hours. The nurse trying to convince me, me rejecting the offer.
I feel the bleeding is picking up. I panic that it is a miscarriage. I go to the bathroom to change my pad to a hospital issue surf board size pad and have to leave my old pad wrapped up for the nurse (a male nurse) to inspect. Again, modesty is not a helpful trait when needing medical treatments. The nurse assures me that it isn't too much loss, not really all that heavy at all. Really? This is like 100 times what I've been having everyday and has been sending me into a panic and they don't think it is too bad. Crazy. How much blood does there need to be for it to be bad?
A doctor comes in to see me and immediately asks the nurse to bring me some pain relief. She doesn't even ask if I want it, just tells me I need it. I swallow down the pill. We discuss all the things I know about the IVF cycle, the pregnancy, the dates and the pain. I cry because I tell her I think it is miscarriage. She says she will do an examination of cervix to determine if it is a miscarriage once they have my blood test results back.
I'm again rocking and rocking on the bed. The nurse comes over and says to me "you see, you don't look to me like you are not in pain. You look like you have a lot of pain. What do you say to me giving you something that will make it possible for you get comfortable and maybe get some rest." I finally agree. I get a shot of morphine straight into my IV. It hits me instantly and I say "whoa - I need to lie down".
It is a lot better without the pain. Matt is wide eyed beside the bed. I keep telling him how glad I am we came into the hospital.
The doctor comes back and has a tray of instruments to look at my cervix. Basically the duck beak thing they use for pap smears and some long skinny tong/tweezer things and dressings so she clean up the cervix (of the supposedly not too heavy bleeding) and have a good look. She tells me the cervix is still closed. If I was miscarrying this probably wouldn't be the case. In her opinion it is not a miscarriage. She also doesn't think it is an ectopic - just because of my symptoms and my pain. To her the pain I describe and exhibit seems more like stones, kidney stones. She is poking around my sides and back asking if I have any pain.
Once she goes Matt and I are kind of in disbelief - more stones! This is getting ridiculous. How many things can possibly go wrong with me. At least we are a little more at ease that it isn't likely we are miscarrying. Our one little baby is still tucked away in there.
Whenever I see my nurse I ask if my blood tests are back and if he can tell me my HCG number. I want to know it. I manage to snooze a little, but Matt is on guard by the bed. He gets no sleep at all and is looking weary. I ask my nurse again about the HCG and he looks it up. It is in the mid 7000s. The nurse doesn't know really what it means, just that it is in the normal range for how far along I am. I know it is okay based on my other HCG results I can quickly calculate that number is fine.
The morning shifts are changing over. We are meeting new nurses and doctors and I am advised we are waiting on an ultrasound to have a good look around my pelvis. I decide I'll let my sister know I'm in the hospital. She lives just up the road and will be a good place for Matt to have a rest, once we know what is going on.
Time flies in the hospital. There is so much going on and I'm half out of it on morphine. Around 10am I'm wheeled off to ultrasound. The external scan doesn't show anything, so we need to do an internal again. Pretty quickly the sonographer is onto the issue - there appears to be a second pregnancy and there is bleeding in my abdomen. A ruptured ectopic. The pregnancy that is in the uterus is measuring 5 weeks and 1 day by the gestation sack. This seems a little small to me. By my numbers gestation wise I should be around 6 weeks and 1 day, but this is not the issue right now.
The sonographer leaves to speak with the doctor for radiology. The doctor comes back with her and has a look at the scans. He tells me we have an heterotopic pregnancy and that even though they are more common with assisted fertility, they are still pretty unusual. He says unassisted heterotopic pregnancies occur only 1 in 30,000. With assisted reproduction (like IVF) heterotopic pregnancy occurs in about 1 in 3000 pregnancies, which is still reasonably unusual.
I'm wheeled back to emergency. The emergency doctor tells me the gynaecology registrar will be down to see me and discuss what needs to happen next. Within 15 minutes the gynaecology guy turns up at the end of my bed and tells me again, that I have an ectopic pregnancy. He asks a few questions about why we started doing IVF. I'm surprised by the question and respond "to try to get pregnant". After a couple more questions it turns out, what he is getting at is that this surgery is likely going to result in my losing my right fallopian tube. I've already lost my left fallopian tube. Losing the right tube means we no longer can conceive naturally at all. He is trying to ascertain how we feel about that and whether we would prefer to try to save the tube.
I'm still coming to terms with what our decision will mean for us. Matt and I quickly discuss it and decide we'd rather not have the chance of having another ectopic pregnancy and as we are firmly down the IVF path we tell the guy to just take the tube. My aunty had three ectopic pregnancies, all at around my age. In her case the tube that they removed the pregnancy from and stitched back up just caused her to have another ectopic and then they took the tube anyway. I don't want that to happen. I really don't want to be back in hospital for this again. See ya later fallopian tube and last chance at natural conception in the future.
Before midday I am being wheeled up to surgery. It really is happening very, very fast. Matt says goodbye just outside theatre. An orderly takes Matt up to the gynaecology ward, so he will know where to find me after the surgery. Thankfully Matt has arranged to go back to my sister's and get some rest while I'm in surgery and recovery.
I'm wheeled into theatre. A whole stack of new faces. The anaesthetist is asking me questions - my asthma is always the issue - I haven't taken my medication. A new ventolin inhaler appears and I'm inhaling puffs, just to be careful. The consulting gynaecologist introduces himself - he is doing the surgery. They will do everything they can to protect the baby that is intrauterine. I'm sliding across onto the table. It is some different bean bag thing, I'm rustling into position. I already have the cannula in my arm so the anaesthetist is injecting me with what ever and I'm out to it.
Monday, April 25, 2011
Diagnosis delivered
The diagnosis - idiopathic infertility, or unexplained infertility. Does it make me feel any better? No. However it also doesn't make me feel any worse. For the first time in some months I'm feeling quite excited about my infertility because we've been recommended to undergo in vitro fertilisation - IVF.
Initially I was a bit shocked when I attended my post-surgery follow up that my specialist recommended we move quickly into IVF. I'd geared myself for moving onto intra-uterine insemination (aka the medical turkey baster) for the next few months, before moving into IVF if that was unsuccessful. But then the doctor started showing me all the scary charts and percentages of conception and live birth at my age.
I turn 36 in July. All things fertility have been declining since I was 25 and basically after 38 things start going rapidly downhill in fertility terms. So my specialist, who is clearly a pretty clever guy, is already thinking about my chances of having a second child if we keep taking the less invasive path.
IVF involves stimulating the hormones that make women create an egg, while suppressing the hormone that makes the body actually ovulate the egg. This means a woman can mature a lot more eggs than in a natural cycle. These eggs are then harvested and fertilised in fancy little dishes. I will have my very own embryo technician who will monitor the embryo development and advise how many - if any - are looking good for transfer back into my uterus or to freeze for later use.
It means a lot of cash out and a lot of drugs in. Yay! I get to inject them myself too. Double yay!
The treatment gets underway soon, starting with two weeks of nasal sprays to suppress the creation of the hormones that make the mature egg ovulate. If all goes to plan I expect we will be undergoing the egg harvest and embryo transplant in late May or early June.
Once the embryo gets transferred back in there is two weeks to wait before we know if I am pregnant. Unfortunately given our history, there is then another 2-3 weeks to wait before we can have a scan to see if the baby is developing normally and in the right location.
I'm excited about the possibility of it working. And I really hope it does.
As for my ectopic pregnancy, the lab tests of my fallopian tube confirmed I definitely had a pregnancy in my fallopian tube. I also had a 2cm serous cystadenoma. A non-cancerous growth that really shouldn't be there. I'm not sure if the growth caused the tubal pregnancy or not, but either way that was the outcome.
The ectopic pregnancy is behind me now. My eyes are firmly fixed on the next step.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Post surgery blues and brightness
It's been two and a half weeks since the surgery to remove my left fallopian tube, with ectopic pregnancy. I'm lucky they could perform the surgery laparoscopically, which means I don't have any big wounds. My doctor explained to me before I went in for surgery that because I have a little extra padding (yes, that's what he said) that it may not be possible for him to perform the surgery safely laparoscopically. If he couldn't it would have meant much more invasive surgery, a longer hospital stay and more painful recovery. So when I came out of surgery, I was pleased to find out laparoscopic surgery was possible.
I only had an overnight stay in hospital. By the time I got out of surgery and came to, it was late at night. Matt was waiting for me in the hospital room. The doctor had called him to let him know all had gone well through the surgery. I was zonked out, so Matt went home.
The whole process was very stressful him. My sister had visited in the hospital before the surgery and had organised for Matt to have dinner with her and wait at her place, which is only 1km from the hospital. Matt told me he was okay while he was with my sister and Aunty, but when he went on his own to pick up dinner, negative thoughts started to creep in. Surgery is inherently dangerous and Matt was worried something might happen to me.
Even with just three small wounds I did have a lot of pain for the week after the surgery. I had terrible bruising around my belly button (where the biggest cut is made) and on my arm from the anesthetist but by week two things were settling down. I still get a little twinge from time to time and I still have stitches. My anesthetist may have been rough with the needles, but he was also very generous with the post surgery drugs! He sent me home with the good gear which lead to a few zippy afternoons jumped up on prescription drugs.
As I entered the second week of my recovery I started to take less less pain killers and as I came out of the drug haze feelings of sadness overwhelmed me. I remember how devastated I was when we lost our first pregnancy and the sadness I am feeling this time around is very different. It is sadness about everything, I'm sad to still not have a child. I am sad about how hard it has all been. I am sad that I can't keep up with my work anymore and that for the first time in my life I've had to ask for some leniency as I step up my fertility treatments. I was just so sad.
Coming into week three the sadness is under control and I'm starting to get excited about the next step in our fertility treatments. I am hoping that having recently managed a natural pregnancy - that perhaps our chances will be better with a little medical assistance.
I only had an overnight stay in hospital. By the time I got out of surgery and came to, it was late at night. Matt was waiting for me in the hospital room. The doctor had called him to let him know all had gone well through the surgery. I was zonked out, so Matt went home.
The whole process was very stressful him. My sister had visited in the hospital before the surgery and had organised for Matt to have dinner with her and wait at her place, which is only 1km from the hospital. Matt told me he was okay while he was with my sister and Aunty, but when he went on his own to pick up dinner, negative thoughts started to creep in. Surgery is inherently dangerous and Matt was worried something might happen to me.
Even with just three small wounds I did have a lot of pain for the week after the surgery. I had terrible bruising around my belly button (where the biggest cut is made) and on my arm from the anesthetist but by week two things were settling down. I still get a little twinge from time to time and I still have stitches. My anesthetist may have been rough with the needles, but he was also very generous with the post surgery drugs! He sent me home with the good gear which lead to a few zippy afternoons jumped up on prescription drugs.
As I entered the second week of my recovery I started to take less less pain killers and as I came out of the drug haze feelings of sadness overwhelmed me. I remember how devastated I was when we lost our first pregnancy and the sadness I am feeling this time around is very different. It is sadness about everything, I'm sad to still not have a child. I am sad about how hard it has all been. I am sad that I can't keep up with my work anymore and that for the first time in my life I've had to ask for some leniency as I step up my fertility treatments. I was just so sad.
Coming into week three the sadness is under control and I'm starting to get excited about the next step in our fertility treatments. I am hoping that having recently managed a natural pregnancy - that perhaps our chances will be better with a little medical assistance.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
Pregnancy prognosis - written about 25 February
On Friday morning I leap out of bed at 6am to swallow down a quick breakfast and then go back to bed for the 30 minute progesterone medication wait, now known in our household as tea and toast (despite Matthew never having prepared my tea and toast!)
My pelvic scan isn't until 10am, and I have to drink a litre of water from 8.30 - 9.00am. But before this I need to duck into town to get my blood test. Matt has taken the day off from work to drive me around and really, just in case I do need to go into surgery.
We run into town at 7.30am. Matt grabs a quick coffee while I race in for the blood test. We get home in time for me to start drinking my litre of water. It takes about half an hour and I need to pee....but I can't!! By the time we leave here at 9.20 to get to the hospital and find a park, I am in agony. I think I am going to pee my pants. It takes us a good five minutes to find the women's diagnostic centre. I tell the receptionist about my 1 litre consumption and that I don't think I can hold it. She tells me I can go to the loo, count to 10 and then stop. Oh my! That was the best 10 seconds I've ever spent on the loo. I was impressed with my restraint and just how much relief I got from the short pee.
When I get back to the counter Matt and the receptionist have figured out my appointment is with the regular Queensland Xray centre. We find our way there and wait. By 10.15 I was busting again. What can I do? I go to the new receptionist and ask permission to pee again! This time I've got a 5 second count limit.
Finally I get into the ultra sound room where the sonographer does an internal and external scan. As he is scanning he isn't saying too much. Eventually he finds the spot that lead to the referral. He explains it does look suspect and starts pushing and prodding in the area and it hurts! I get dressed and the sonographer tells me the result it isn't certain. He is going to have a radiographer take a look at the pictures and the report will be with my doctor in an hour or so.
Matt and I wait for images to be ready and head home to wait for a call from the doctor with the verdict. We figure we've got time to kill so we stop and rent a couple of videos to try and take our mind off everything. Once home we settle into the couch. It was only about 15 minutes into the movie when the phone rang. The doctor already has the report. He asks if the sonographer gave me the result, I explain he was sitting on the fence. The doctor tells me the report says I've got a highly suspect 2cm growth in the tube, which they believe in that clinical setting is an ectopic pregnancy.
Yesterday the doctor had explained to me that ectopic pregnancies can be life threatening. If they rupture they can cause you to bleed out into your stomach. Needless to say, the doctor is keen to prevent any of this and asks me to be at the hospital and checked in by 2pm for immediate surgery. I need to pack an overnight bag as it is likely that I'll be in hospital overnight to make sure I'm okay after surgery.
We decide it's time for us to ring our family and let them all know. I start getting a bag packed. I have to ring work and let them know that I will out of the office for a week or more. It is like a whirlwind and we are back in the car and headed back to the hospital.
I'm sad. Matt's sad too. But I'm also glad it's over. No more uncertainty.
My pelvic scan isn't until 10am, and I have to drink a litre of water from 8.30 - 9.00am. But before this I need to duck into town to get my blood test. Matt has taken the day off from work to drive me around and really, just in case I do need to go into surgery.
We run into town at 7.30am. Matt grabs a quick coffee while I race in for the blood test. We get home in time for me to start drinking my litre of water. It takes about half an hour and I need to pee....but I can't!! By the time we leave here at 9.20 to get to the hospital and find a park, I am in agony. I think I am going to pee my pants. It takes us a good five minutes to find the women's diagnostic centre. I tell the receptionist about my 1 litre consumption and that I don't think I can hold it. She tells me I can go to the loo, count to 10 and then stop. Oh my! That was the best 10 seconds I've ever spent on the loo. I was impressed with my restraint and just how much relief I got from the short pee.
When I get back to the counter Matt and the receptionist have figured out my appointment is with the regular Queensland Xray centre. We find our way there and wait. By 10.15 I was busting again. What can I do? I go to the new receptionist and ask permission to pee again! This time I've got a 5 second count limit.
Finally I get into the ultra sound room where the sonographer does an internal and external scan. As he is scanning he isn't saying too much. Eventually he finds the spot that lead to the referral. He explains it does look suspect and starts pushing and prodding in the area and it hurts! I get dressed and the sonographer tells me the result it isn't certain. He is going to have a radiographer take a look at the pictures and the report will be with my doctor in an hour or so.
Matt and I wait for images to be ready and head home to wait for a call from the doctor with the verdict. We figure we've got time to kill so we stop and rent a couple of videos to try and take our mind off everything. Once home we settle into the couch. It was only about 15 minutes into the movie when the phone rang. The doctor already has the report. He asks if the sonographer gave me the result, I explain he was sitting on the fence. The doctor tells me the report says I've got a highly suspect 2cm growth in the tube, which they believe in that clinical setting is an ectopic pregnancy.
Yesterday the doctor had explained to me that ectopic pregnancies can be life threatening. If they rupture they can cause you to bleed out into your stomach. Needless to say, the doctor is keen to prevent any of this and asks me to be at the hospital and checked in by 2pm for immediate surgery. I need to pack an overnight bag as it is likely that I'll be in hospital overnight to make sure I'm okay after surgery.
We decide it's time for us to ring our family and let them all know. I start getting a bag packed. I have to ring work and let them know that I will out of the office for a week or more. It is like a whirlwind and we are back in the car and headed back to the hospital.
I'm sad. Matt's sad too. But I'm also glad it's over. No more uncertainty.
Our first pregnancy scan - written on 24 Feb
Today, following doctor's orders, I managed to speak to the fertility specialist to let him know my spotting had progressed to quite heavy bleeding on Wednesday, but had then gone back to being mostly just spotting again.
The doctor initially said there isn't much to do about it that I just have to wait for it stop. He then asked when my last period started - which I think was 25 January. The doctor is stumped, and said that can't be right because I couldn't have got a positive result when I did if that's the case.
I'm sure on my dates, but because I was taking my three months test free, the doctor hasn't seen any blood tests from me, confirming ovulation etc since December.
In the end, the Doctor said why don't you just come in for a scan at 5.30. I was so pleased about that. The doctor was sure with my numbers we'd be able see something. I was sure with my dates that it must still be too early.
Matt came in for the scan too. The latest pregnancy has been taking a big emotional toll on him too. We've both had a lot of anxiety.
We head in for the scan which is always a little embarrassing. I've got to strip from the waist down and cover up with a sheet. Matt is in the room with me, we are both laughing a bit as Matt is trying to figure out where to stand. When the doctor comes back in he makes a few jokes about all the condoms and lube he goes through as he get the ultra sound probe ready. The doctor inserts said probe and starts to talk to us through what we looking at on screen. The uterus and lining are there - but suspiciously, nothing appears to be in the uterus. The doctor explains with my numbers that we should at least be able to see a pregnancy sack, even if we can't make out an heart beat or anything else. He starts to poke around looking at my ovaries etc and points out a lump in left side, which he thinks looks sus.
I get dressed and we sit down with the doctor to discuss what it all means. The doctor says there are three possibilities:
1. Given what I think the dates are it is too early to see anything
2. Given the bleeding etc I have miscarried and that is why we can't see anything in the uterus
3. The pregnancy is implanted in my fallopian tube and that is the lump we can see.
To determine if the pregnancy is ectopic the doctor tries to get me in for a full pelvic scan, but it is too late in the day. He books me in for earliest available appointment on Friday morning. He also wants me to get a blood test at the Queensland Fertility Group lab so he can have my HCG and progesterone levels first thing in the morning. The doctor tells me that he is in surgery on Friday, which means that if the results of the scan and blood test suggest the pregnancy is ectopic that he will be able perform laparoscopic surgery immediately. So other than the 1 litre of water of need to drink the hour before my pelvic scan, I'm not to eat or drink anything after 6am while we wait for the result.
As Matt and I drive home on Thursday we are both in a bit of a daze. I'm a little relieved to be having the symptoms investigated and hope that tomorrow we will have some definitive answers.
The doctor initially said there isn't much to do about it that I just have to wait for it stop. He then asked when my last period started - which I think was 25 January. The doctor is stumped, and said that can't be right because I couldn't have got a positive result when I did if that's the case.
I'm sure on my dates, but because I was taking my three months test free, the doctor hasn't seen any blood tests from me, confirming ovulation etc since December.
In the end, the Doctor said why don't you just come in for a scan at 5.30. I was so pleased about that. The doctor was sure with my numbers we'd be able see something. I was sure with my dates that it must still be too early.
Matt came in for the scan too. The latest pregnancy has been taking a big emotional toll on him too. We've both had a lot of anxiety.
We head in for the scan which is always a little embarrassing. I've got to strip from the waist down and cover up with a sheet. Matt is in the room with me, we are both laughing a bit as Matt is trying to figure out where to stand. When the doctor comes back in he makes a few jokes about all the condoms and lube he goes through as he get the ultra sound probe ready. The doctor inserts said probe and starts to talk to us through what we looking at on screen. The uterus and lining are there - but suspiciously, nothing appears to be in the uterus. The doctor explains with my numbers that we should at least be able to see a pregnancy sack, even if we can't make out an heart beat or anything else. He starts to poke around looking at my ovaries etc and points out a lump in left side, which he thinks looks sus.
I get dressed and we sit down with the doctor to discuss what it all means. The doctor says there are three possibilities:
1. Given what I think the dates are it is too early to see anything
2. Given the bleeding etc I have miscarried and that is why we can't see anything in the uterus
3. The pregnancy is implanted in my fallopian tube and that is the lump we can see.
To determine if the pregnancy is ectopic the doctor tries to get me in for a full pelvic scan, but it is too late in the day. He books me in for earliest available appointment on Friday morning. He also wants me to get a blood test at the Queensland Fertility Group lab so he can have my HCG and progesterone levels first thing in the morning. The doctor tells me that he is in surgery on Friday, which means that if the results of the scan and blood test suggest the pregnancy is ectopic that he will be able perform laparoscopic surgery immediately. So other than the 1 litre of water of need to drink the hour before my pelvic scan, I'm not to eat or drink anything after 6am while we wait for the result.
As Matt and I drive home on Thursday we are both in a bit of a daze. I'm a little relieved to be having the symptoms investigated and hope that tomorrow we will have some definitive answers.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)