I knew I was pregnant the day I missed my period, but I didn't want to get my hopes up. I waited until I was well and truly late, and then I tested. It wasn't just a faint, pale-line positive, either -- it showed up dark and immediate. The next morning I was leaving for Yosemite, and I've never had a secret, so I just decided to keep it to myself. In my head, I was calling the baby Duckie.
I camped, hiked all over, and peed in every godawful bathroom in the park. I bought a little tweeting bird for Zadie, and another for Duckie. I felt great.
We came home on Sunday, and on Monday, I had a dinner date planned with Sweetie. I told him at dinner, and he was glad. We both thought it best to wait as long as we could before telling Zadie, but I wanted to tell my mom on Mother's Day.
On Thursday, I had the worst stomachache. I could hardly move. I changed my lesson plan to "watch a movie" and sat very, very still. I skipped that afternoon's work meeting. It went away after a couple hours, and I thought it was gas. I did have a little spotting, but that can be perfectly normal.
On Friday, I had it again, around the same time of day. It must, I thought, have been related to eating. Perhaps I had eaten too much food.
On Sunday, I bought a crib.
The ache returned off and on all week, sometimes early in the morning, frequently at work. Wednesday was the worst. I took three bathroom breaks in an hour, unable to actually *go*, and it was painful to even walk. At lunch, instead of eating, I just lay on the floor behind my desk. Most of the kids didn't even know I was there, although there was a club meeting. Toward the end of lunch, I went back to the bathroom and threw up the only thing I'd eaten in hours, a carrot.
I Googled cramping in early pregnancy. I Googled abdominal pain. I Googled round ligament pain. I Googled symptoms of ectopic pregnancy. I still thought it might just be really, really bad, trapped gas, and how embarrassing would it be to complain about that?
I felt better Wednesday night, and we walked to the frozen yogurt shop, where we ran into some friends. I went to bed early, but I woke up at about 11:30 to use the restroom. The pain came back, and it was so bad I couldn't get up at all. I sat there for a long time, trying to figure out what to do. Finally, I got down on the floor and crawled on my hands and knees back to the bedroom. Sweetie thought it was Zadie at first, trying to sneak in, but when he realized it was me, he knew something was wrong. "What do you want me to do?" he asked. "I don't know. Take over." He called the Kaiser advice line and they said to come in, so we called Mom and she came over. I got dressed while Sweetie got Z up and dressed, and we all went to the emergency room.
Only Sweetie and I went in, and we were admitted fairly quickly. It was a little after midnight when they asked me what my pain was like, and I said it was severe, like a 9 on a 10 scale. They got a urine sample, weighed me, and tucked me into a freezing room! The nurse couldn't even find a vein because I was so cold, so they had to get another nurse and a warm blanket. Most of the next few hours was waiting around, getting a second urine sample (that they never used), and being cold. I did go for an ultrasound, which was intensely painful. I said to the lady at one point, "I know you're doing your job and you're being as gentle as you can, but you are my least favorite person right now." I told Sweetie when I got out that it had been like in the Princess Bride when Count Ruger takes a year off Wesley's life. She asked, "haven't they given you anything for the pain yet?" And it occurred to me... NO! I told them 9 on the pain scale, and they had not managed to respond to that yet. She wasn't supposed to say anything about what she saw, but she did add at the end that I would be better off laying with the bed more reclined, and she was surprised I wasn't bleeding more. At that point, I wasn't 100% sure, but it did seem like it was an ectopic pregnancy.
When the doctor came back to my room, she confirmed it. She said they were calling an OB/GYN surgeon to come from Roseville, so it would be a while, but they'd probably have me in surgery that morning. When she left, the nurse (who, like all the other nurses we saw that night, seemed annoyed with the doctor) said, "I don't know why she said that. You're definitely going into surgery." I told the doctor at that visit that I would appreciate some pain medication, and as I already had a line in my arm, they got some morphine into me pretty fast.
The surgeon, when he arrived, had a great bedside manner. He was warm, but professional. He explained everything, which I pretty much knew/anticipated already. He did say something like, "When they see the heart beat..." and I said, "So they DID see the heart beating?" I hadn't been sure. At the very least, he looked empathetic when he said yes. So the surgery I would be having would remove my fallopian tube with Duckie in it. And Duckie was the size of a lentil, and barely had dimples for ears, as I had just been telling him that afternoon as I played Queen in the car, but it was still sad.
Sweetie went out to tell Mom to go home and take Z to bed, and when he was gone, I cried, and my first nurse gave me a hug.
It seemed to take a long time to actually get ready for surgery, so Sweetie talked to me and we made lots of silly jokes. Plus, I had to take all my jewelry out, which was a royal pain, and he had to bend my nose ring for me. That made a third trip to what we were calling MRSA-bathroom. When I walked back to my room, one of the nurses was like, "SOCKS! YUCKY! GET HER SOCKS!" So Travis, who was my later-that-evening nurse, found me some flashy red ones and some washcloths and sanitizer to wash my feet off. Everyone there was nice, sympathetic, and helpful.
Dr. Wang, the surgeon, popped his head in to tell us that they were assembling the A-team up in surgery for me. I asked if he'd tell me if it was really the B-team, and he said he would. Then Sweetie whistled the A-team theme song for me.
Finally, they wheeled me up. I was introduced to Wayne and Jennie, part of the A-team, and then Sweetie had to go to the waiting room.
As we were getting leg cuff things on and my arms put out on the table's wings, and an oxygen mask, I burst into tears one last time. They pulled the mask away so I could talk, and I blurted out, "I was just really excited about this baby, and I haven't had a chance to say goodbye." Jennie gave me a warm hug, and Wayne asked if I wanted to say something before I went under, and I said no, it was okay.
And then I woke up in the recovery room, my mouth feeling like flypaper, and was given ice chips, and juice, and they went to find Sweetie (it took them a couple tries, because he wasn't where they thought he'd be). They sent him off to pick up some prescriptions, and eventually I got dressed and Mom came and I was discharged. I slept most of today. I am sad, but I think I'm okay, too.
I remember thinking that Zadie's pregnancy had been so easy, and she's such a challenging child. Maybe this would be the difficult pregnancy, and a very easy child. And in a way, it was true. He never gave me any trouble at all. Good night, Duckie.