Scared to leave

This sense of fear is digging itself deeper and deeper into my bones. It's paralysing and suffocating. It consumes my thoughts and restricts my movements. 

I'm trying SO hard to move forward, move on from this mess.

But the fear is breathtaking and not in a pretty way.

I've tried to leave the house five times today but I keep thinking of excuses to stay indoors. The washing is complete. The bathroom is clean. The sheets are fresh and the laundry is put away. I seriously contemplated organising my bookcase but ate a caramel Tim Tim instead.

It's two sleeps til Santa arrives and I've got so much to buy and so much to organise. This is normally my favourite time of the year - festive celebrations, party invitations, sharing great food and fine wine with family and friends and handing out thoughtful gifts to make my loved ones smile like crazy. I crave normality so badly but 'normal' disappeared 16 days ago. 

I know I'm faking it at the moment. I'm seriously pretending to be OK. My loved ones don't need to know my every thought. If I could leave the house, my first stop would be my GP for help. The trauma of this experience, this pregnancy, this loss, is enough to set me on a path of destruction. Depression has visited me before and I don't particularly want it back again. I need to know the steps to help me avoid this path ...... and try and choose a path that will be rebuild what is broken here. 

But I get the sense no one can help me. No one wants to help me.

Maybe faking it is OK for the moment because our life is messy. Hubby is investing every waking minute into his new business. I'm at home alone all day. Sleep is evading us. We toss and turn and become bitter when dawn breaks. The healthy diet is replaced with too much chocolate, ice cream and cake. I cry every time I hope in the shower because the scars are a permanent reminder of what could have been. 

But I can't fake it forever. Eventually I need to start digging my way out of this pit hole called 'rock bottom'.

It's finally over

They say you need to hit rock bottom before it gets better.

Here is a sample of my rock bottom.

Last Thursday I woke up around 5am with abdominal pain and lower back pain. I got up out of bed and went to the bathroom and started to feel dizzy and nauseous. I screamed out to DH and he helped me onto the lounge. I could barely talk. My focus was on breathing through the pain. I had so much pressure in my lower abdomen so hubby helped me back to the bathroom but I collapsed on the bathroom floor. I finally found the strength to tell hubby to call me an ambulance.

Within 5 minutes the ambulance had arrived and I was given some morphine to help the pain. Then it was off to hospital.

We arrived around 6am and I was seen to straight away. I explained I was due to have surgery at 5pm today for a cornual ectopic pregnancy. The Dr in emergency explained I'd be having surgery a lot earlier than that as I was bleeding internally - my worse fear confirmed - the pregnancy had ruptured.

It took 4 Dr's and 2 nurses 90 minutes to find a vein in my hand/arm to insert a cannula. I was dehydrated and my veins kept collapsing. The pain was starting to get excruciating not to mention the pain from the cannula attempts. So I kept sniffing the morphine until finally a vein behaved and a cannula inserted into my hand.

Lots of phone calls were made and the surgery was bought forward as quickly as possible. Hubby was beside himself with worry so I asked him to call mum and let her know I was in emergency again.

I was quickly transported to the private hospital, where the surgery was taking place and by that stage my pain was off the charts. I was struggling to breathe normally and taking short swallow breaths. Next, they moved me onto another bed and that was it. I SCREAMED like I've never screamed before.

"I CAN'T BREATHE"

"HELP ME"

"DO SOMETHING"

"KNOCK ME OUT. I CAN'T TAKE THE PAIN ANYMORE"

Hubby and my mum were crying and screaming at the nurses and surgeon to help me. I very clearly remember at this stage sinking to another level of survival. I calmed my breathing, stopped moving, focused on my prayers and willed myself to survive this.

I remember saying goodbye to my husband - telling him he was the man of my dreams and I've never loved someone as much as I loved him.

I remember saying goodbye to my mum - telling her how much I loved her and how sorry I was that she had to go through this.

My last vision was of my mum collapsing against a wall and hubby holding her - both crying.

Then the lights went out ......... and I woke up.

The nurse looked at me and told me I'd survived the surgery. I immediately said a prayer of thanks. Never in my life was I so thankful and grateful to be breathing, pain free, but breathing.

I asked her if I was still pregnant and her answer was no.
I asked her if I still had my uterus and her answer was yes.
I asked her if I needed a blood transfusion and she said nearly but no.
My final question was, "does my husband and mother know I'm ok" and she said yes.

Reuniting with my husband and mother was the best moment of my life. The weight was finally off my shoulders.

Whilst I still grieve and mourn the loss of my 3rd baby, I can't help but feel so thankful to be alive.

I'm now resting at home and the feelings of guilt and selfishness and starting to creep in. My desire and need to have child have not only put my life at risk, but my family and friends have had to endure the prospect of losing a wife, daughter, sister, friend and work colleague.

I knew the chances of an ectopic were higher this time round and I still wanted to attempt it. Does that make my selfish? I never could have foreseen this outcome and in all honesty, I don't think I can ever attempt it again. I can't put my hubby through this again and again and again.

So my initial thoughts are ....... It's finally over. I believe we may need to close the door on this TTC chapter. Typing that sentence brings tears to my eyes because it means our dreams are shattered. But how does one move on from this?