Remembering My First

Today would have been my first baby’s estimated due date. I only had this baby for six days from the time I found out I was pregnant until it was all over when I found out I had to take methotrexate to terminate my pregnancy, but I will always remember this little one. This baby taught me the unbridled joy, the debilitating fear, the wild emotions involved in being a mother.

It was a Wednesday. I had tested negative that morning on a home pregnancy test, the morning of my beta. I didn’t want to go into the clinic for that blood test – didn’t see the point. I held it together until the nurse asked me while she was drawing my blood if I had tested yet, and then I burst into tears. Yes I tested, but I’m not pregnant. That afternoon when I received the call with the results, I was so surprised – I was pregnant. The nurse sounded hesitant – my hcg, estrogen and progesterone levels were low – but all I heard was I was pregnant. She gave me prescriptions for estrogen pills and patches, and told me to increase my progesterone suppositories – I should take 4 per day. I was so naïve, I thought all I would need to do is take a bunch more drugs and everything would be fine. I ran to the store to get my script filled, and as I waited in the aisles for my drugs, I called the hubs. I told him I was pregnant. I was so excited, but as I explained the low levels of hormones, my hubs wouldn’t get too excited – I didn’t understand.

The next day we had a company-wide meeting where our CEO was speaking. I was sitting in front, and I couldn’t leave. I started having bad cramps, and I could feel myself bleeding. I had to sit there until the end of the meeting, in complete fear that I was losing my baby. As soon as I could, I went to the clinic. They did more blood tests, and I went home to stay in bed. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I thought if I stayed on bed rest, maybe it would be ok. The doc called that afternoon, and he said my hcg levels have risen appropriately, and my estrogen and progesterone levels have improved too, although they still weren’t great. I went in on Friday and got more blood tests, and those looked better too. I stopped bleeding. All was well – I was scared, but I thought it would be fine.

I spent all weekend in bed, just thrilled to be pregnant. Finally, I was going to have a baby! Monday morning I went in for more blood tests, and waited for the nurse to call me with good news. Instead she said my levels haven’t increased enough – it was over – the blood work shows the baby is ectopic. I pleaded with her over the phone – is there a chance? She said no. She told me to pick up methotrexate from the pharmacy and come in tomorrow for the shots.

The next day, my hubs and I walked into the clinic, and I started to freak out. Please don’t kill my baby. How do we know? What if the blood tests were wrong? Prove it to me that it’s ectopic – can’t we wait? They gave me an ultrasound, there was nothing in my uterus, and they saw something in one of my tubes – can’t remember which one. They said I shouldn’t wait – I may lose my tube if I wait. And so I agreed. I cried as they gave me the methotrexate shots – I couldn’t believe I was killing my baby.

My husband, my mother, my mother-in-law, everyone said the same thing. Thank goodness they found it early – thank goodness it didn’t hurt me – ectopic pregnancies can hurt you, even kill you! I would just look at them and shake my head, if I didn’t start crying. They didn’t understand. It wasn’t about me, it was about my baby – I thought this was it, I thought that come October, I would have a baby in my arms – finally! I would have given anything for this baby to live – even my life.

Eight months later, I miss that baby. That little one, who I barely knew, taught me so much. Today I remember my little baby who lost its way – nestled down in the wrong place. Although you were lost, little baby, you found your way into my heart right away. I remember you today – and always.