May 2012

Marshfield, Missouri

I guess the only way to start this off is by telling you a little about me. I was 20 years old and sure of where my life was going. I always knew I wanted kids. I worked at a daycare 5 days a week, watched my niece as much as I could and even babysat other children just for the fun of it. So, I was beyond excited when I got a pregnancy test that was positive. It was April of last year [at time of writing]. I told my boyfriend and my immediate family. My sisters were so excited for me, the older who already had one of her own and the younger one who was ready to pop. They decided to tell the rest of my family by posting it on Facebook.

I was so full of joy that it seemed like time flew right past me. I literally had to tell myself to breathe, but the night before my first doctor’s appointment came I started to bleed. At first I didn’t worry, I knew these things happened. I told the doctor about the bleeding and he set me up with an ultrasound appointment. By this time, I started to worry. I went into the appointment with a smile on my face and family by my side, but by the time I left I, broke down. I had always been this strong person, the one that picked others up when they were down and here I was thinking I could never go any lower. The ultrasound technician wouldn’t tell me anything. She had this look on her face that I will never forget. My boyfriend told me not worry, he said everything would be okay. I knew the results would come back in a few days and I would have my answers. 

The third day had come. I started calling my doctor every hour. I had been told he had the results and would call me back. I couldn’t wait though, this was my child we were talking about. I finally got the call shortly after five o’clock that evening. I was still at work sitting in a room with 7 infants. The doctor told me I was having a miscarriage. My heart broke and I had gone into shock. I don’t remember much of that conversation, only that he had wanted me to come in and do a blood test in the next few days to make sure my HCG levels had gone all the way down. I knew I couldn’t show any emotion. I still had to do my job and right then those kids needed me. When I went home, I told my boyfriend. He just hugged me and it seemed like forever until he let go.

The next day, my little sister was induced into labor and the baby was coming, HER baby. I knew what I had to do. I had to be strong, like always. I went to the hospital to wait for my second niece to be born. As I was waiting, I realized mentally I was in no shape to go to work. I called and told my boss what had happened the day before. I knew she was happy to hear the news. She had made comments about me not being married and ending up pregnant. I then told her I quit. It would take time to heal and I couldn’t be in a room full of babies right now. Shortly after the call, my niece was born. April 18th, the cutest baby ever. This was the beginning of a long journey. 

I took my time healing. I prayed a lot and the time I wasn’t praying, I was crying. After a few weeks, I started to do better. I felt my spirits picking up, and although I was still bleeding, I felt like I could do things without thinking about my loss. I always had what the doctor said to me in the back of my mind, but I couldn’t face him until I knew I wouldn’t break down. I spent my time thinking long and hard on what I was going to do on my 21st birthday. My birthday was May 21st and I knew with the month that I had, I was going to do something fun–something to get my mind off of what had happened. 

A week before my birthday, I started noticing that I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to cook or clean. I didn’t want to get out of bed. I felt like the whole room was spinning and I was in a lot of pain. I didn’t think much of it, mostly because I had too many other things on my mind. With my birthday coming up and the thought of the positive pregnancy tests, I just tried to ignore it. My boyfriend set a doctor’s appointment and insisted that I go. 

The day before my doctor’s appointment, I went with my parents on a trip that was an hour away from home. We did some walking around and went out to eat. I knew I had to be seen because I couldn’t do it. The walking was killing me. I was in so much pain and when we stopped for something to eat, I went back out to the car. I barely made it. I passed out. My dad insisted that they take me to the hospital, but I wouldn’t budge. I have always had a hard head and I knew that I would be seeing the doctor within twenty-four hours.

The next morning, the doctor confirmed the fact that I was pregnant. I was happy again, but it didn’t last long. My boyfriend mentioned the pain and the doctor was instantly intrigued. He sent me right away to the ER. The ER doctors ran some tests. I thought I was going to get to go home, so my boyfriend left for work and my older sister came to stay with me until they released me. After what seemed like forever (but was only 4 hours), I was told that I would be taken into surgery. I had an ectopic pregnancy and I had been bleeding out for almost a week.

My fallopian tube had been ruptured and they would have to remove it. I remember looking over at my sister, who instantly started crying. I could see that she felt so sorry for me, but as for me, the realization of what was actually happening hadn’t hit yet.

I’m sorry, but I don’t remember what happened next and no one can tell me. I just remember waking up in a room with what seemed like a hundred people in there. They all looked dead and I couldn’t talk. The rest is a blur. All I know is that I spent my 21st birthday at home, on the couch, alone. It’s where I spent all of the next few months. I couldn’t use the restroom by myself or take a bath by myself. I couldn’t walk around. I just sat on the couch and made sure that everyday I was awake to watch Ellen. She made me laugh so hard, I would literally cry from the pain.

They cut from hip to hip and after a short time, I had an infection in my stitches. It took me 3 months to actually heal up enough to move. To this day, I still have numbness where my scar is and scars where my heart is. My 22nd birthday is in less than a week [at time of writing] and all the emotion is flooding back again. I always think back, “Maybe if I would have gone to the doctor like he asked, it never would have happened.” I could use some help because I have never actually talked to anyone about what happened, but it’s finally nice to share my story. 

You can email Keilyn at: keilynethier@yahoo.com
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