I had a pregnancy loss. This is my story.
By: Anisha Padhee
Tags: Grief, Pregnancy Loss, Ectopic Pregnancy, Fertility, Grief And Loss

Long read. TW: Pregnancy Loss. Ectopic Pregnancy. Grief.

I had a pregnancy loss. It was (is) one of the most painful experiences of my life — physically and emotionally. And as hard as it is, I want to share this experience with everyone, because a. the journey to parenthood is not always sunshine and roses — it is bloody hard, b. I know I am not alone in this, I know many, many women suffer through this and c. there shouldn’t be any shame and stigma around this — everyone needs to know about what women, their bodies and their minds go through.

Chin and I had been trying to get pregnant for over a year. Initially, it was very exciting, everyone around us kept telling us how they tried once and got pregnant, or didn’t try at all. We thought, we’ll be as lucky. We weren’t. Month after month, my period came, and disappointment increased. In April 2020, I got tests done, and turns out, my eggs are weak. Can you imagine my anger? I was 34, still young in my opinion, and have old eggs?! What the heck?! So my doctor put me on medications to strengthen my eggs. Yet, three months later, no luck.

We went back to the doctor, and this time, in August, she ordered an HSG test, to check if my fallopian tubes were in order. This is a painful test. They give you injections beforehand (one of which blurred my vision entirely for a few hours), and then insert dye into the uterus via the vagina. They then take an X-ray — if the tubes are fine, the dye just flows through the tubes into your uterine cavity. However, if your tubes are blocked, the dye doesn’t pass through, and the pressure it creates inside your uterus is very painful. As luck (or the lack of it) would have it, not one, but both my fallopian tubes were blocked. This meant, that the sperm doesn’t reach the egg so obviously, you can’t get pregnant.

I had two options, drink turmeric and ginger teas and apply castor oil packs and other natural remedies, which by the way work for many women, or go in for a laparoscopic surgery to unblock the tubes. We discussed, thought about it, and while I was drinking my ginger and turmeric teas, we also decided that I’ll have the surgery. I had the surgery on Oct 3, and it took me about 10 days to recover full strength. The doctor said all went well, and now we truly had a fair shot at getting pregnant.

Come December, and nothing had happened. We went back to the doctor, and she recommended we go in for a couple of rounds of IUI. IUI, or intrauterine insemination, is when they artificially inject treated semen inside your uterus with the help of a catheter, to reduce sperm’s travel distance and give it the best shot at fertilizing the egg. We decided to go ahead with it. This meant more injections — to make sure my eggs were plump, healthy and numerous, and then to make sure I ovulate on time. At the clinic, I checked the vial with Chin’s sample at least 6 times to make sure I am not impregnated by someone else’s sperm (the paranoia is real when you’ve watched too many movies — remember The Switch, or Good Newzz?)

Anyway, the procedure happened, and the doctor was quite hopeful. I was put on additional medication (progesterone, to support a pregnancy if it has happened), and had to take two more injections. I was supposed to go about my life as usual, and to avoid breaking my head for two weeks, I decided to go to Gurgaon to meet my sister and family and friends. First travel since Feb, best three weeks ever. I ate (A LOT), drank, met my loved ones, slept and basically chilled max.

On January 8 2021, I took a test. I almost didn’t want to take a test because I was so so scared that it would come negative. Chin was in Gurgaon for the weekend, and I woke up at 6 am in proper Delhi winter to go pee on a stick. If someone had checked my pulse then, I am sure it would have been 100 plus. Anyway, I peed on the stick, and as two lines appeared, I stared at it in disbelief. I was pregnant. WHAT?! This can’t be real. I was convinced this was a false positive, possibly because of the HCG injection I had taken on Dec 26. I whatsapped my doctor. She asked me to get a Beta-HCG test to confirm. Early morning hugs and kisses with husband, sister and brother in law, followed by a call to my parents. Got a beta HCG test and it was amazing and the pregnancy was confirmed. We were all elated, but of course, decided to keep it under wraps for the first trimester. The only other person I told was my best friend.

The following week, I didn’t even know what I was feeling. It was surreal. I wanted to tell the world — but decided to wait till I got my first scan. I came back to Bangalore on January 13, and while I was scheduled to see the doctor on the 16th, impatience took the better of me, and we went to see her on the 14th itself. She congratulated me, and then proceeded with a scan. The scan went on for a while, because she couldn’t find anything in my uterus. And then she turned the scope left. And there it was. An embryo in my left fallopian tube. Small, but there.

I had what is called an ectopic pregnancy, or a tubal pregnancy. This is when the embryo attaches itself to the fallopian tube, instead of coming down and implanting in the uterus. Ectopic pregnancies are rare (between .2% to 2% of all pregnancies), and life threatening to women. An embryo cannot survive in a tube, and because these are not usually detected this early, they keep growing till the tube ruptures and women collapse in pain and bleeding and have to be taken for emergency surgeries to get the tube removed, and sometimes the entire uterus. In India 3.5% to 7% maternal deaths happen because of ectopic pregnancies.

As the doctor delivered us this news, I was numb. I didn’t know what to feel. There was no way they could transfer the embryo into the uterus (I checked, apparently medical science is advanced enough to make babies in test tubes but not enough to transfer embryos from one part of the female reproductive system to another), and I had to terminate it if I wanted to live. I would either have to go through what’s called medical management, or surgery. Chin and I drove home in complete silence. I didn’t cry, or say a word. I didn’t know, WE didn’t how to process any of this. In one week, everything changed.

My ectopic pregnancy was detected very early, which meant I didn’t need surgery, and I could go for medical management of an ectopic pregnancy. In this, they give you one (in my case, 3) doses (injections) of a drug called Methotrexate, which is essentially a chemotherapy drug. The drug works by attacking and arresting growth of the embryo, which eventually dissolves into your bloodstream in about 3–4 weeks. The injections have side effects — extreme fatigue, site pain and nausea among others. I took my first injection on Jan 15th, and I was told to go to the ER in case I felt extreme pain (that is usually a sign of rupture.)

On 16th morning, I woke up with severe, debilitating pain on the left side of my uterus. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t walk, and couldn’t sit. Chin drove me to the hospital immediately, and I was hospitalized. There wasn’t any rupture, but turns out the drug attacking the embryo causes extreme pain. I was given intravenous painkillers, enough to make the pain bearable, but not for it to go away completely, because painkillers mask symptoms of a rupture. I was kept in the hospital for 36 hours under observation, and I came back home on 18th evening.

Let’s talk about the physical pain. I had to take three Methotrexate injections on alternate days (and 3 other injections to reduce side effects on the other days, so 6 injections in all) and following each, I was in severe, crippling pain. I couldn’t sit. I couldn’t even walk to the loo without help. For a week, I was practically bedridden. Even now, I am easily exhausted (kept clothes in the shelf and needed to lie down), my liver enzyme levels are shot (side effect), and keep getting intense cramps. I have to get Beta HCG tests done every 2 days to make sure the levels are going down — these are blood tests so I have a needle stuck inside me pretty much every other day. It’s a slow process — imagine being pregnant but not really, imagine having an embryo inside you but not really, imagine knowing what could have been your child is dead inside, but not gone entirely.

I don’t even know how to begin talking about the emotional pain. For my family, including my husband, there’s pain, but there’s relief because I am safe, because it was caught early. I am glad too for not being dead. But how do I describe this pain of losing what could have been my child? I have been so angry. So bloody angry at the unfairness of it all. Why is this happening to me? How will I ever feel normal again? How could I be given something I have wanted so badly, only to be taken away so cruelly? At times, I am completely fine. I think, ok, onwards and upwards. All will be well. Most times though, I am a ball of tears, snot, and mess. I can’t look at pregnant women. I can’t look at infants. I went to the supermarket yesterday and I broke down at the sight of baby food. My grief is bigger than any other emotion I have ever experienced. I am crying as I am writing this, because I don’t know how else to cope.

I have to say though, I am just so incredibly lucky to have the best family ever — my parents flew down to be with me and it has been a huge support, I speak to my sister every day, and Chin holds my hand and puts his arms around me every time he sees me sulk or cry. I texted my close friends and let them know, my parents told the family. I also have an incredibly amazing doctor — empathetic, non-judgemental, practical and patient.

I have a long, long road to emotional recovery, and I don’t know if I will ever be ok. I can’t even think of getting pregnant again right now (not that I can — Methotrexate stays in the body for 3 months and is harmful to any fetus thus formed during that time.) I have never felt so angry, so helpless, so bloody sad ever in my entire life.

I think the last thing I want to say to everyone out there — STOP ASKING WOMEN AROUND YOU WHEN THEY ARE GIVING YOU “GOOD NEWS.” It is cruel and invasive and hurtful, and NONE OF YOUR BLOODY BUSINESS. The journey to motherhood is really hard for many, many women out there — physically and emotionally. Imagine having to manage home and perform well at work while going through everything I have gone through in the past year — through medicines and needles and surgeries. It is not easy. And you asking me about good news only makes things worse. I had good news, till it wasn’t good news anymore.

To all women who are going through difficult fertility, pregnancy and loss journeys, you are not alone. I know it feels like that, hell, it feels like that to me right now, but I am hoping youwill get through this. I will too, fingers crossed.